I Want To Feel

I want to feel
Whatever it is that you people feel
When I see you walking along with a smile
When you pull someone close and they accept the embrace
When you try to stifle it but the laughter escapes anyway
When it’s been too long, you hug them, and tears cover your face
I want to feel
Some kind of connection within
Less like I do and more like you
More like a pea in a pod, and less like a leek in the pot
More like the sun in the sky than another star in the night
Less like this smog-ridden air and more like a summer breeze on the beach
I just want to feel
Anything

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I Want To Feel

Reconciliation and Recompense

The person I hate isn’t you
It’s the construct of you I’ve created in my head
So really, it’s just me I hate
And you might’ve forgiven me
But I don’t think I ever did
For the crime committed
It’ll never be forgotten
It has shaped the husk of a ‘man’
Living here as I stand
So, like your grandfather, I’m ready for the end.
All I’ve got to do
Pull the trigger and dream away

The person I loved wasn’t you
It was a version of you I’d dreamed of
So really, you were just a fantasy
Another one of my escapist ploys
To dissuade me from living in this world
I wasn’t a real boy
Strings were still attached
Controlled by the puppet master
So, here I am, finally ready to cut the strings
It’s all I’ve left to do
Snip away and fall into the abyss

Reconciliation and Recompense

An Open Letter To A Past Mistake

What would you say if I told you that I’ve written about you? Would you like it? Or, would you simply dismiss it as so many others have? … As I once did to you … I’m sorry; I was preoccupied. I didn’t let myself live in the real world. I was stuck in the fantasy I had created for myself in years previous. And now, it’s too late. Isn’t it? Oh, can we go back to the grass that beautiful Shabbat in Jerusalem? I’m so sorry I didn’t make you feel every bit of how beautiful you were, you are. Now that I at least have the words to say, it’s too late. You’ve surpassed me. You’re this wonderful intelligent giant, and I’m but a grasshopper skittering about at your feet. You occasionally look down with a warm smile marveling at my meek existence. And again, I’m sorry for I have self-imposed this silence between us. I think it’s because I feel ashamed for not letting you in. You were my manic pixie dream girl, but this isn’t a Woody Allen movie…

An Open Letter To A Past Mistake

Dear Reader

Dear Reader,
How do I tell her
That I’ve been chasing her
Ever since high school
But not this
Who she’s become
Who she was then
Not that that was all that great
I mean, she was all that
But I left me high and dry
She moved on into the arms of some other guy
And used me to facilitate
Her hand right into his left
Now I’m boiling over; full of hate
Eyes out the window, contemplating all that is
How do I tell me
That it’s all my fault
Without bending and breaking to the wind
Whispered from her lips
But not this
Who I’ve become
Versus who I was then
Not that I’m worth a shit
Or ever really was, admirable
And I left her just when I’d changed her mind
Knowing it’s my right that I’m right, about this
Her, or my, inevitable lackluster
Disappointment in one or the other
Now I’m welling up; eyes full of tears
Blurring all in sight, setting it all askew
How do I tell the tale
That has transpired
Without betraying
Any of our faults
And all that we’ve become?

 

Dear Reader

Tempered

Tempered in the fires of society
you’ve been kept in line
within the confines
that they’ll allow
between their predefined
thresholds of deviation
Anything less or more
is left to be moored
by the police-authority

Because you wouldn’t play their game
you refused to pursue
their evangelical
greed for the purse, the money
the proposal of the self
before anything else
You’d rather burn Wall Street
than to walk it in stride
alongside the “apex” life
with an all-too-socialized bride

What? You think your’re original?
That Greek gem,
The Roman puppy,
Your favorite contemporary
have all done this already
You’re stuck sucking from their teat
You just take in their art
process it on a whim
then shit it out with your own
petty pseudo-witty veneer

You’ve let them contain you
in this transparent cage
though less like the diamond you’d prefer
and more like the glass ceiling you’d defer
right back to those who created it
from their palaces up on the hill
they look down without
seeing those they forced supplicant
living in blissful ignorance

We could burn the hill down
melt this rustic cage
if only I could escape this maze
this amaranthine labyrinth
that’s so tragically beautiful
the way it captures my gaze
soon to spit me out
from within its spinneret
in being and mind, wholly new
as a zombie like all of you

Tempered

Sappho — Catullus — Zachor

Here, the one who is god-like
exceeding great cosmic power
because they command your attention
although not through force
Your laughter — only it can wrench
my heart from depression darkest
For when my gaze meets yours, my voice has
forgotten its place
Tongue swallowed whole, and within
lava bubbles to the pores of my skin,
thunder of the gods cannot be heard, the veil
has concealed my eyes
Tepid sweat envelops, my person rattled
throughout, as bereft as the dead
as I am and inert — as the dirt
covering this Earth
Torpor, Zachor, is your enemy true: torpor
pushes you to the worst of your extremes:
torpor, through the ages, has felled those once of bravado
and celerity
That this Lillith has lilt your heart from within
burning, but not just at both, yet from all ends
her hands pull at the ashen wicks – threads – strings
to this heart’s content
Sappho — Catullus — Zachor

Assassin

She thinks you’re everything she wants in a man
But she doesn’t yet realize that she’s still a girl
And that you, well you’re still but a boy
In the shoes of a man that just quite can’t
Decide to be where he is or has been or will be
His future decided by the ill will of his own
In a way that he thinks is “the way”
Or at least persists to those that aren’t him
So that from the outside, he seems clean
Of the perversions he’s seen and caused and been
And she’s stuck with her tears and feelings for him
Though he’s claimed by her ‘best friend’
And has been for many a year
What she actually considers a best friend
Is he, the very same who aims to be clean
But isn’t and hasn’t as proven from years past
Yet the other trifles on as though she’s in love
With a boy she met in years past
That has turned and burned himself to now
What he just always may be remembered by
And for the other, the one, the girl
I wish to stay for her to see how she’s led astray
By her own childish array of rights and wrongs
To maybe one day see the way
Or something close she should follow and lead
Again, I could fuck you better than any of them
And their potential miscreant hoodlum fucks
But all you want is the excitement
Of fucking behind someone’s back
Of the heart, you’re a shitty assassin

Assassin