a cork board

PMpWed, 17 Nov 2010 16:23:49 +000023Wednesday 1, 2010, 4:23 pm
Filed under: poems, the ether, the mirror, Uncategorized
I will put my index knuckle to my
brow and I will salute you.
oh ignorant face of tolerance.
you cannot lie to me anymore.
I have allowed you to pull the
wool over my eyes in the name
of temporary gratification for decades.
you breath in elapsing hours and weeks
and I am left breathless when the hours
elapse into weeks wanting more like
a sandbag resting on my solar-plexis.
do me a favor and grant me serenity.
grant me eloquence and release from ignorance.
sometimes I open my mouth and I
do not know what comes out.
sometimes I lie to myself in reassurance.
because if you say something enough
times, it becomes truth. if you say something
enough times it becomes truth. if you say
something enough times it becomes truth.
if you tell a lie after a lie,
you are creating a new truth.
what is true is eternal and has
always been. that never changes.
so do me a favor and count my blessings.
mark truth on the inside of my flesh
the way a prisoner marks his days in captivity.
marks one to four and hatches a line
through them all. flip my eye lids
inside out to see if my dreams
have made it into my capillaries
so they can be in my blood.
drown me in the debt of my own
selfish desires. because too much
is never enough until it starts eating
at your bones and you stand a
shivering statue waiting for forgiveness.
pour me into grass so that I may
grow into a tree and tower over
anything I ever said to myself enough times
for it to become truth.
so I can bask them in a shadow
and cast them into pools that are shallow.
do me a favor and tear me apart.
I have never been in pieces
except for when it’s self-inflicted and
I can never put myself back together
without leaving weather scars.
peel me into something resembling
unabashed selflessness and confidence.
stack me into the sky so I just
might believe that I can make it
without doubting myself.
so I won’t stab my abdomen
every time I’m approaching
the finish line.
take me out of the rain.
or at the very least
let me know
I don’t have to stand in it.
I’m tired of being drenched.

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