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

Sorry…

Well, I set out with this

to apologize

but I’m already thinking: Me

and how I fucked it all up

It was my mistake to make

You played your part on this stage

I missed the cue

You set the pace in this dance

My feet misstepped

You’re the one who smiled

I was too busy looking at the camera

And now you’re not

Well, you’re not here

I never gave you the reason to be

And you

You’re happy or something

I think of you leaning back

in a summer dress

wine glass in hand

mid-guffaw with class

Or in your jeans

at some downtown bar

a band plays in the back

the stool next to you

empty at last…

 

But what would I do with it?

What I didn’t before?

Sorry…

I Am The Moon

I am the moon, scattered amongst the ebb and flow

All of the shiny pieces to be taken in, collected

Admired, from afar as so many have dreamt, and intimately as only the bravest few have tread

Though I am stuck in this earthly embrace, this dance in space

That princely parapet with whom only dreamers in the night connect

I Am The Moon

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