nosleepandcrazy

This shit is real and really crazy

poems july 2003

Like a young boy glimpsing at his future – knowing the need to turn away.  My soul turns down the offer to accept what all accept even though the offer is free and still stands.  For the souls journey would surely end without choosing its own acceptance of what is true.  A proposal from those who aren’t willing to conform is at hand.  Their offer stands free and free of strings, and they are taken up on it less often.  What they offer is difference, and accepting that can make all the difference.  The boy grows up and is no longer young with other’s acceptance.  And with a difference so shall my soul be.  To regard this as truth is the novel thing.

 

Where have all the little girls gone?  Have I once again done something wrong?  They aren’t little anymore.  This makes my heart sore.  The little girl, I shall not be…  Is starting to pull away from me.  I’ll say goodbye to little girl things, to childish whims and everything.  But behind me I can see.  She’s staring back at me.  It’s the little girl I left behind.  The one I still don’t seem to mind.  Her eyes can’t hide her tears.  And my now old mind can’t block my fears.  It’s lonely here without her ghost.  So I pull her near to hold her close.  I keep going to her to hold.  But her hand, it feels so cold.  Her eyes are dying.  And older me is lying.  Telling her we are still the same.  Telling her time has no claim.  So she takes her hand away.  Attention to now I must pay.  She is gone for good.  To be her again, I wish I could.  But close to her I can not be.  So I am stuck growing with me.  Stop missing her, I will never.  But continue further away forever.

 

Your body is like a map made of braille.  My fingertips long to explore your body’s every mile.  Even if I were blind, I would know it by heart, alerted by the tip of each finger.  The hand explores what has been explored a thousand times – yet finds new sensations with every repeated visit that it will long to experience until the new is old and my all too eager arms have held all that was once unknown.

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This entry was posted on July 23, 2017 by in Uncategorized and tagged , , .
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