Foggy Mornings
And Additional Musings
When the day is young, still
When the fog rolls in
When the morning light is dim
When my mind is lost
In lingering dreams, my friends
When the forest is too overgrown
When the underbrush is thick
When the wooded trail is lost
When each footfall breaks wrists
And promises speak of death
There is the hopeless
Then is the moment lost
That is the breaking point
Before barriers are crossed
Then is the moment
Where solutions make sense
Whether or not
They can provide a defense
Why should we rely
On the infallible thought
That we can try
And figure it out
But in those gloomy places
With just the right lie
There’s still a torch to see
A pretty face
Or a project to be
A mental construction
A glimmer beckoning
And maybe, perhaps
It’s just an illusion
But believe in illusion
Until it must be
Avoidance
Something cold trickles down, drips, catches
Sits, waits, becomes a weight
Heavy, heavier, the heaviest thing
It’s bearing down
It’s listening
A thought that hammers repeatedly
It bothers, needles, breaks skin
Digs down and burrows in
Becomes the truth
Despite denial
Oh denial, oh its relief
The promise it offers of unchanging
How can I stop who I have been?
When it took so long to learn to be
Acceptance is good, isn’t it great?
You can be yourself
You can let the world in
You can alienate all of your friends
So patch the dam as it cracks
Bulges, creaks under that weight
Just ignore what might be
Take the comfort
Of not reckoning
Avoid the searching of who and why
The state of not, doing a thing
Stalling, stalled, a stall that breaks wings
Keep the secret
Down within
Caught
They caught me on the doorstep
One Saturday evening
We were arm-in-arm
Secret kissing
Some secrets are joyful
A happy surprise
A dramatic reveal
That pleases
Assures
And Complies
But those aren’t the best secrets
The best secrets draw blood
They drew blood
Because of a secret
They broke hearts
And you lie
Conformity breeds liars
You have to fit in
But if you don’t?
If you won’t?
Then you learn to fib.
Honesty is for the normal
Honestly for shapeshifters
They fit in a box
Because they were poured in
But what of the misshapen?
The ones that can’t melt
Or those that refuse
Because that’s not being yourself
Then? A choice.
A statement.
Of life:
A constant fight
Or a constant fib
Never
She took a step and stopped
Looked at me, quizzical
The question wasn’t why
It was not a question
An accusation
And I couldn’t take it
I couldn’t refuse
Love was easier
Than hate
But who wrote the rules?
And when do they break?
When did the moment pass
Where someone had been hurt?
I didn’t succumb
I overcame
But to an outside viewer
They were one and the same
The challenges are breathless
Wordless
Weeping
Choices
And those choices, daggers that cut different
Hurt self or someone else
Any choice is deafening
When an expression of self