I rushed this.
We moved too fast,
and I tripped into the guestroom.
I love you. I want to be with you forever. It's just that I don't believe in forever, so you'll be missed like first kisses and movies and i love you's and concerts and singin' in the car and liquor bottles and stumbling into bed together and waking up warm-bodied, and shared bad poetry and opinions and chess games. victories, losses and rematches ... we matched, attached with humor, attraction, intimacy that can no longer be, and i'm sorry you're sorry the nonexistent god should be sorry for not existing, not insisting this was the real thing for two people so fucked up solo, together, half-together, not together, all together, tied together like camp counselor friendship bracelets. leaving only traces of longing, and tears and I'm tired and you're tired of me getting tired then waking up then making up then making love. can't understand my own damn feelings, but i know in moments, however fleeting, i loved you more than myself.
I think you caught me on the downslide, downturn.
I was busy writing with a pen and paper-thin dream
Subplots twist and turn in my mind, inseparable,
intertwined; common themes coincide inside my mind.
Don't want it to be the same, but can't except the change --
Afraid of losing the game, of going insane.
I rack my brain o'er the perfect ending, ashamed of the
confused signals I'm sending --
Cliches and forced rhymes neverending,
While insomnia blends my nights into days and days and days
and days, I daze into dreams of idealistic fantasies through
painstaking realities I'd rather not see.
I cannot swim in this stream of consciousness.
I can't breathe.
Will regret follow me continuously,
Through falling Houston leaves envious of New York snow?
Flighty and OK with it
Randy likes this one ...
Lately, I can't keep plans
At all.
It's like, in the hot mornings (which is what I like to call noon in the summer),
I can't even begin to think of what to do in what used to be the much-anticipated evening,
No matter now much I plan,
No matter how cool plans are at said time of their planning,
I recently, and nearly always, end up doing
Completely different things.
These instances used to annoy me, but now,
I just love them -- life's inconsistencies.
I do feel for those persons who have been at times,
Stood up due to my newfound flighty tendencies:
Only, Without these said inconsistencies, we really would just be
Parts in a factory manufactured with mind paid to capitalist consumerism,
Consistently content to live life perfectly predictably,
While knowing well that only chaos can bring appreciation to order and vice versa.
Imperfections can make things perfect, and perfect, manufactured things
Identical in every pined-over detail can be found imperfect.
As everything balances on piled-up balance,
Polar opposites combine to create homeostasis,
Clearing the path to developing a state of calmness through wild,
Tangled feelings otherwise far from clarity.
