Words

Words are weightless when

Devoid of substance

Yet can crush

With entomological denotation

Conflicting with connotation

Empty without act

The actor’s script

Mundane; a work of fiction

Creates the narrative by which we live and perish

Out of sync with our mortal carriage

The body; a separation of church, spirit and state

Decapitated thoughts that plunder hope while aspiring

To American Dreams

The thought, the spirit and corporeal form

A sinewy mix of chemicals and flesh

Heavy with fluid

Unlike the weightless words;

Weighed down ; chained by inertia, apathy and gravitational forces-

Self-talk platitudes and

Make merry memes and technicolor pills

Knee-scraped off the wagon and scrambling

Back on, ragged, raw, real… if anything can actually be

All is manifest

Not taking the time to deal with the deluge of dust

Made muddy when our sacks release

Etching rivulets down dirt streaked cheeks; that emotional river, salient, sting

Wipe away, wipe away; smearing their channels in hopes of not repeating

But is it the mask I remove; exposed the callow of character; an naked actor,

Is there such a thing as self and an actual I?

Or is it self-immolation and erasing of memory?

Not that we ever really knew to know

These things, highs, lows, ebb and flow

Crushed by weightless words as they wind a noose

Choking the lines, blood flow stops

Brain fades brown

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down

The Ride

These hardened streets, gashed with serrated pot holes

Asperous asphalt

Soon to be softened and slippery

From fresh winter snows

I streak a sliver through the city’s congealed veins

Heart attack, clot, but numb to my own pain

Wash it white, tint-rose so colourful but still

I’m traveling here alone*

Unwanted passenger bleeds my brain

Driving me insane; a taxi I never called

ṻber ṻber alles; bike lane, pushed aside

pedal on, pedal on;

We’ve lost community to a phone

Reaching out, reaching into that empty space, that void in me

The invisible wall maps my ride and counts my steps

Drugged and dragged along by platitudes

But they make no bloody difference

No hope exuded in hollow eyed words,

Eye contact, topped with tar…black pupil-retinal mud makes the darkness blindingly bright

I need to travel off the common path

And not be led where these roads go

The grids with untimely ends and capricious curves…

The need of a flock to follow unneeded, and takes us

To the same places over and over again

What’s the point of life when

You feel dead?

“We find ourselves in the same old mess,

Singing drunken lullabies”

Simply stated, no simple solve

What’s prescribed seems to sicken me more than heal

Nothing is genuine; it’s no

Wonder we are lost to how we feel

I feel weak, I feel small and powerless

Set my compass, but stuck on the determined road

Salt stings the cuts and cracks and road rash

Black tar and asphalt stain my lungs and the acidic rain eats at my soul

The salt water streaming from my eyes;

An ocean, an eternity, but not rain

Briny bites the cuts and cracks and road rash- I do my own stunts

I want to ride my bike with you

Off the main drag, the beaten path that’s beat me down

Or a canoe:

To be flowing through the river’s blood

As it feeds the earth with natural wonder

Feeds my soul, makes me whole

Lessens the impact of my mental load

Erode my jagged edges and smooth me out

Skipping upon the waves like a water walker

Even though I know

The river’s flow will never cease

A tegument of ice may distort our passage-

To inhale your warm breath; exhale and dissipate like smoke into the ether

Of the endless dimensions of universe and soul;

See it blend and absorb into the greater whole

A contradiction to these pending winter winds

Winter is always warmer in a photograph or film

This film that coats my eyes and emotions

I want to spin this into a positive

Propel by my chain, not tethered

Away, the big yellow taxi,

I need you to ride with me.