Swallowed up by the Earth

Is this how you imagined it, when you set out?

City streets, crossroads, seeking new faces.

They look the same, no longer strange, because everything has changed… Were there other plans to slip away?

And could you run, could you hide, or fathom an alternate life; with an ending that may have been written all along?

Its one hell of a ride. When it’s over, who decides? I can’t begin to imagine how you feel.

Just let go of the wheel.

Were there faces and names, broken engagements all written in flames, ashes trailing off in the sky. Sparing everyone else, to make them happy instead of yourself.

How well I play the victim.

You Play the Heroine for Me

The desert where you found me deserted and confounded
and living a life that made no sense.
The bums on the street had it right
what’s mine, once yours, so give it without a fight.
Whole years that seem to disappear
your only mindset, broken,
Please get me out of here.
In fact, it sucked to the bottom of the depths,
scalding blister and furnace the churning sand, out of my mind with
no respect,
For what we had, dead on arrival,
wasn’t mere survival–
It was a joke no one got.

Except you,
you picked me up, dusted off the powder and silica-
swept me off the path I journeyed.
Sleepy eyed and beaten to a pulp,
no sanctuary for those who had given up.
You can’t get back what you left
thank the fragments of brain matter
under swept,
seats of a ‘football’ game.. most call it soccer
and 0-0 means that nobody wins.
We’re all poor sports when were sporting each other, and whoring ourselves into a life that has too many variables.
Too many excuses to leave
and not enough to stay.

Humility on my mind, on your knees one last Time

I don’t know what I’m doing.
So what.

This is indigestible. The movement of my guts.
Shifting of the heart into throat and the burn of acid where air once flowed.
Sour taste-
The way I felt when we parted ways.

Look at me now. You’d be so proud.
But what’s left of us?
The scenery is stifling and your breath once draped around my neck.
Tight like thighs in late night dives and the satisfaction was that last cigarette.

Get off your hands and knees.
I’ll clean up the mess this time.
You couldn’t hold it all inside,
and you refused to swallow.
I don’t blame you.

I can’t digest no more, and I thought I was the whore.
That was a smokescreen.
I’m lost.

Release me back into the wild.
The streets are alive.
I will always come crawling back.