jaybeasley2

can it be that I
am the very most thankful
because I am the one
with none of the regrets,
your sentence of life,
my sentence of love and
the final last breath of warm
reassuring hate, and fury, and
oh, great lasting day we made,
ruined by blasting on
trough the incomplete distance that
we have decided to waste the
entire year gripping and growing on,
wanting a drink and trying to
work the flesh of too many
friends that are not our good
wanting moon type of bloody mess,
companions worse for wear yet we run
from those willing to help us
play in the long tooth evil we have
seen as the love of our
very lives like the days of old
splashing red, and
being drugged down inside
the mystic
lunar eclipse

your hand reminds me that you
probably wasted away the day
that I would’ve stayed around to find
out what you had to say
but it has ben a long time since
you recognized any of this
because you made me feel so great
that you would bother to take me “as is”
I wanted to tell you so much about
the feelings that made me want
to jump on the roof and scream and shout
you may not want to hear my
voice or maybe you just want to take
away my ability to have a choice
every word you sent me fit and
I am not buying from the business
I am merely a part of it
but if I go north or just
try to disappear
don’t stop trying to find me
I hear you loud and clear

pacing back and forth
my sanity crashes into the egg
that is my mind
my insides are like jello
I have become numbly dumb
have I truly crossed over that
imaginary line?
mad or not I am myself
wandering eyes seek to stomp on me
I feel as if I cannot continue
but I still hold on
no more terror; I will not feed on this moment
only for a moment I am at ease
my mind will not stop
but if it did what would that do
to me?
for death is already knocking
I am not afraid of perishing
but quietness is perhaps what I fear most
when I am gone the nothingness
will have my words on it
as it finally consumes me

true
the earth lifts up
each day and each second
passes by like a
thunderclap of experience
and all is well yet
the previous moments lost
are a dreary and precious
and deep complication of the
knotted times,
compared to now.
now is a vine
long and finite and flowering
in the jungle of green
luscious touch and only one
constant of a growing
togetherness that is a
lightning kiss that neither one of us
could possibly have
been better off without;
a foggy
stormy root that has grasped
a growth that improves and
strengthens, as its petals and
nectar do.