Waxing Lyrical

In all its shapes and sizes

Falling in

And of course

Falling out.

Falling hard

and falling apart.

Falling for

And falling away,

Like a sand dune,

Sun bleached,

Ocean swelled,

Affray.

Falling.

Fallen

Repeat the words

And they

Crumble into sounds

Without meaning,

They become

Walls,

Once solid,

Now leaning.

Fall 7 times,

Get up 8.

It's not working,

all this grinding of the

literical wheel.

Push push slide.

Trying to find

a part of me

from the deep;

inside.

Something pulled out and

penned, something to like,

to love, to call my own and wear

with pride.

It's not working tonight.

All that's left is the taste of

too much tobacco

high and dry in my palate.

All thats left is an empty milk bottle

and not enough black coffee in the world

to wire open my eyes.

These pages are lies

the minute they leave my fingertips.

The words are fleeting

These feelings brief

There is only grief

for the loss of my tongue

when i need it the most.

When i need it to speak

from my heart

despite not hearing

it beat.

Helpless

speechless

Doubtless wasting

edges

silent pledges

(to self)

(he alleges)

that the photos are shot

to see the man inside

the boy.

The real McCoy,

The truth within the lies,

Sweet disguise,

scorched henna to border

the disorder

within.

Original sin,

and a picture

I had felt a sense

Of alone

Free roam

Taking over me.

Now,

I see,

Differently.

I am not one.

Rather many

And this single entity

Is plenty.

I am love.

For all my errors made

I am my own undoing

My own repair.

For every solo step taken

I dance for all.

For every crouched and howling boy,

Small,

I am tall,

An echo,

Resounding.

There is strength here

In this solidarity.

We, love, are one.

Ballast

Fails me.

I find myself

Drifting

On a quiet sea

With no sail.

The kind of calm calamity

In which you hear

Your own heart

Fall around me

In sweeping

Amplified greatness

Like a house of

Playing cards

Blown down

And scattering

To each cardinal point

And beyond.

I see people fall down

Broken,

Rediscovering

Themselves,

In their pain.

Songs

Of sadness

Blowing

Melancholy

In the wind.

Each tear

A note

Each fear

A Melody

Mourning memories

No depth

No core to strike the iron hot

Upon.

I regret to inform you Sir

That I have lost the capacity

To care,

That I have dropped the

Ephemeral Ball of belief

And have become tangled

Undone.

A shallow

Hollowed

Cracked

Broken and busted

Shapely shell

That contains only dust,

Particles of Mistrust

I am bumpy rolling stone

No moss collected

Just cleft reflected

On a surface

Not shy or unscarred of pain.

This is today

This empty decay

This is now, this dust cloud

The walls are closing in

And every thing feels

A little warmer.

Reaching out

(I’m wearing gloves,

too hot to touch bare skinned)

I feel for the impermeable skin

Of reality

Moving in

(I can’t breathe in,

the air is thick, congested.)

The partitions

Between

Dreaming and Real

Are becoming a radial blur

Of movement and confinement

Trying

(aspiring)

to share a space;

A geometric pace

Of shapes and shifting,

I am drifting

Only to sink

again

to the bottom

of the world,

where the stars are grey against

a pitch black (falling down)

sky.

Sing me a lullaby,

Close my eyes,

And sleep me through the

It's hard, to imagine. I've lived one way, for such a long time... 6.5 years with my recently separated partner, and 8 years immediately prior with another partner. Almost 15 years of partnered domesticity with little inward focus outside of trying to better myself for their benefit, or at least to benefit the wholesomeness and longevity of our relationships.

I've lost sight of myself, which makes it cloudy trying to imagine my future.  

Who am I becoming? How does it play out, and what does it look like?

What sparks passion within me? What is going to motivate me, engage my energy and drive me forward. It really is like looking through fog. I can see outlines sans detail. There is trepidation and contemplation, both shrouded and unquiet. I am lost. Eyes forward, alert and wanting.

Some say simply hardened

A wizened, numb,

Impermeable ball

Of love mislaid

Trust betrayed.

A web

Of gritty layers

Interweaved,

Deceived ,

His heart is

Sewn and patched

Small puncture holes

(gasping, weeping, bleeding)

This heart

Pre-stitched and worn.

He gives tokens

Of self

Bespoken

By the body,

Giving and taking

Loving and hating.

Some say he is hard

In love

No more fallen

Rather falling

We are brushed finger tips

Waving goodbye

Choked,

Air stuck

Tight lipped

I feel sick

And tired

Raw flesh

And cut deep

Straight through

To already

Brittle and broken

Bone.

Alone

And tripping

Over the

Falling sky.

Red eyes

Disguise

Roll the dice

Snake eyes

And the next roll

Follows at my feet

Like a shadow taunting

Like a whisper haunting.

A slip of darkness nipping

At my heel.

Urging me to feel

Too much.

Pressing me

To touch

The beyond

Face first

Cross eyed

One eye on the future

One eye in the past.

Fall in

Fall out

To jump

Blind luck

Into an empty view

In lieu of you

You are me

But you cant see

For the madness

Barking mad

In front

Of the other.

Onwards and upwards

Eyes front.

Quiet tears

Pool within

Heels digging in

I will not cry

I cannot cry

I shall not cry

Fuck knows why

I am swaying on

The fringe

Between

Falling and fallen

crawling

Slowly slowly

Duck n weave

Heart on sleeve

Hiding behind corners

Eyes down.

Tight frown

Eyebrow furrow

I am the badger

Burrowed

The ostrich

With his head

Planted

Quietly

In the ground.

I am sound

And sounding

Calling

Crying

Trying

So very hard

To just

Keep on Keeping on.

Shelved between layers

Of being and (un)doing.

I wait

And listen

Through the deep

Where secrets keep

Amidst self’s sea

And the blue

She swallows me whole.

Takes all control

And abandons me

Embracing that tingle that is

A shiny, moody sliver of hope,

Slight & bony,

Sitting in the shadows

Still glowing

A beacon

A bon voyage

A passage

Here we are again,

A person without a person

Funny how history repeats itself

While the future only cries out for you once.

Then waits for you to catch up

Breathless and wearied.

No idea how this is going to unfold, I continue to trust though, in the process, in the universe, in good people and being loved.

Friendship, connection, aspirations and intentions.

Leaning into growth

I am

No stranger to growing pains

Calculated risks paving the way for

Wild abandonment,

Long walks and

And a new view

~ JM

I hear your pages

Flicking through time.

Burnt edges

Smoking.

I feel your ash between

Thumb and forefinger.

I put you to dust.

Windswept away

Then spoken

I scream your colour

Into the sky.

And you watch over me

Writing life

Into memories.