#poetscreed

Idle Steps Vol. 2, 3.18.25 “Ameri(ca)pitalism"

Let's be strangers once again.

Say yes, and I'll leave right now, without hesitation, without a single goodbye, and if you cry, I'll pretend that it's not breaking my heart.

I won't slam the door on the way out.

I'll go quietly, tenderly, like we've never filled this same room with loud laughter and happy voices. I'll clench my fists and grit my teeth,

and then, I'll walk away.

I won't pick up your calls, if you say yes.

I'll delete your number. In case you still love me, in case you're drunk at a rundown bar in the bad part of town, I'll watch over you from a distance.

Till someone comes get you, and lets you lean on them, and tucks away the loose strands of hair.

Till they tell you that I wasn't worth it.

You will be okay with them, like you had been with me, before you had said yes.

You'll forget me slowly.

It won't happen all at once.

Somewhat like a tide, I'd fade away.

You'll forget the way I laugh, the way we had slow danced in the living room, the way we had fallen in love.

The way that it hurt. You won't call me anymore.

You'd grow up.

You wouldn't run into my arms.

We'd be strangers again. We'd pass each other by on the street, and you wouldn't notice.

Perhaps you'll fall in love with someone else, someone who deserves it.

And each night, intoxicated and disintegrating, I'd selfishly wish that you'd fall out of it.

Or maybe, you won't.

Maybe your hands would still remember the phantom of mine, maybe my kisses would be imprinted on your heart.

Even if your mind forgets me, your soul won't.

And when I meet you again on a day not fated to be, chasing a light spring rain, it would remember me.

Beyond reason, you'll know how you loved me once, and how I loved you too.

You wouldn't be hurt, and I wouldn't be foolish.

We would pack our bags, and leave the little town we've known all of our lives.

We'd go somewhere no one would know us. An adventure, for just you and me.

In our little house, we'd dance again in the living room,

but this time, you'd be wholly mine, and I completely yours.

it was a random tuesday night when i met him. uneventful, if not for the silent storms brewing in his eyes. he was just a lad, even much younger than me. he wore, of all things, a hoodie — such modernity that belied the most ancient of souls; and when he shrugged off his jacket, i swear i could trace orion on the freckles of his shoulder.

his smile was slight and casual, amber eyes seeing everyone but never really looking, his lips — strangely enough — untouched by liquor. only everyone else around him were anointed by alcohol. he put his blood on ice and and one by one, without fail, they fell into intoxication.

a soothsayer held up death on a tarot card but all he saw was himself. the stars were scattered on the floor and the barroom awash in drunken stupor; amidst it all, the god of wine perched atop a pillar of sobriety. i think this was how he became more dangerous.

by the first light of daybreak, he rose from the barstool and left an inebriated frenzy in his wake. a vice with a deathlike grip on its patrons, and the god of wine departing calm & uncaring.

dress fluttering and skin

comfortable. At peace

is a state of being

I am slowly growing

accustomed to.

Perhaps less trying

and more feeling

I'm all Banging brains and Slamming bones with Creaking hair and just a bit more of Jackhammer teeth bundled in Firecracker nerves and Traffic eyes.

I'm screaming nails and scratching tongues with Buzzing teeth and Rattling muscles all tied up

With an exploding thought that's all bark and no bite But too many decibels can kill you and the right frequency can break glass. I'm shattering thoughts and Crashing dreams tied together with Ripping skin and eaten with Chewing nightmares.

I'm buzzing, static humming background construction noise you can never quite see but you know where all the Dust is coming from the jackhammer drills buried into fresh concrete and you'll hear thunder Far before you see the lightning fade From my grasp and all I shall be is A rainless storm with crashes that sound like they're next to you Shaking up all your bones. I'm large crowds and markets and speakers and concerts. I'm festivals that are broken to have some fun with your residues Of what's left of your drums.

I am quiet loud and I am inaudible but I can split your brain apart with just a word.

Dear, I've told you I'm too loud. And yet here you are.

I've told you I'm too loud But this is the first time you've listened And felt the red from your ears. Not too loud for me. You're no longer here. It's for the better.

I'm too loud to hear myself think, speak, anything.

I'm too loud to be loved by you.