They called us addicts though we both know, it’s air. The air we breathe to receive when they’ve long settled less for. We’d inhale a release as we exhale to forget. Together, we were breath and you then took the easy route. An exit I’ve yet to follow.
Tell me why! We both know life rolls too fast as we go in slow and steady.
If I could wind back time I’d go to the days I did not know you. How you’d never know the great disturbance you are! I don’t enjoy weekends anymore. Now, I seek the days when my mind is at rest, as I burn the end of two candles.
What have you done of my senses? To bequeath what can’t be kept? Ignorance surely is bliss when bliss settles after your passing. Mondays can’t get here fast enough. There’s no living in waiting. Rest quickens thirst. The longing in my bosom, the swelling of my lids and the palm around my neck!!
What have you done!
PS: I miss what I don’t have as I learn to define what I value. Life is something, it gives the greatest joy but without knowledge. And then it takes it all away for you to learn its worth. (Don’t miss me when I’m gone!! A sweet refrain. If only I knew what I know now.)
Once an addict, always an addict, it’s the source that shifts!!!
Ever wonder why you attract the people you do!
And they say the central theme is you?
As if, you would want the pain, unleashed too?
Your head’s right, your game’s tight,
many players on the field and nothing is alright,
or feel right?!
That’s the story, an endless litany!
What am I to do?
All that I have, untrue!
Mushroom trippin’, ecstasy driven,
they come around wantin’, constantly takin’,
that’s me attractin’ !??
Time wastin’, roll in the hay, and!?
Maybe it’s the voodoo, how between my legs do,
curved as rescue,
boat, line, head too?
Ever wonder why you attract the people you do?
L. 092015 1731
has purpose forgotten me?
I look around wanting a friend
someone I can call to spend,
minutes that can’t be forgotten
shared laughter gifted to the wind.
open wide the other side,
how living ought to be!
sit tight, break bread
sip wine, twirl a bit
a crocheted connection along life’s end-ing.
sometimes in the maybe of tomorrow’s fold.
many are near. None so dear as my bitterest friend.
all are seeking,
as if seeking is its own demand.
I smile and gaze
at times, I say hello;
for a moment, a sign! recognition!
loneliness, oh faithful friend!
how can I ever let go of your holding hand?
Much as I wish not for despair,
you’re always there,
a stare! a glare!
and I’m woven into your sleeve of chances, perhaps
purpose has forgotten me!
L. 09/03/15 16:45