Thursday, April 28, 2011

Words Are Flowing Out Like Endless Rain

On the plus side, as my misery index continues to rise, so too it seems does my creativity index. I can't remember the last time I felt this much urge to create. I actually wrote something today. At first I thought it was a poem, but the more I start to stare and it and play with it, I think it might be a song. I mean, it still needs some editing (and a chorus, if it actually is a song) but it felt so good to get some words on paper. It's been approximately forever. Anyway, without further ado, a still untitled poem/song/thing.

On the precipice of departure
She sailed through doors revolving
The end of one era is another yet evolving

Two silver circles, teeth menacing in uniformity
Metallic crunching breaks the silence sitting stilly
Still it doesn’t hit her, the crushing enormity

Ghosts perched on bookshelves and window ledges
Whispering memories, nudging and giggling
Filling the room and softening its edges

He had a patient wait at the top of the column
A fitting terminus to thirteen years intersecting

His soft lips make a heart, just so
One of her hands holds his guitar callused digits
The other steadies her against falling

A quick squeeze, almost reflex
Current coursing through fingers and time
Her eyes dart away, she deflects

Next door his lover sleeps quietly
Her energy long fallen from its acme
Still penetrates with vibrancy,
Insulation, walls, pure white paint

A breath of anticipation,
Held deep, one two three
Slowly seeps out between him and she

Foreheads so close, two armies advancing parallel
Even more like two charged poles
That repel each other’s sameness

Sinking deep into fibered comfort
Voices vent from soft speakers
Comedy, laughing, this decision a comedy of precision

A truth less harsh when it stays unspoken
Promises that promise to remain unbroken

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