Poem: Déjà Vu

Fear reverberates through my bones
An old déjà vu tugs its way toward me.

A feeling. A taste. A sound.
So familiar and yet…

Through soft air and dying leaves, I fall
Spiraling down toward the earth
To cover it in a downy white blanket.

Where is this?
Who am I?



 

Is this hunger?
Will I claw my eyes from their sockets to escape this feeling?
I can’t be here, not after so many years and countries have passed.
The blood runs shallow beneath my skin.

Be careful. The ice is thin and rotten
and nobody will hear your vocalizations
your desperation
Your cry for help.

Poem: Out of time for self

It’s hopeless to compete against you.
I’ve lost my nitch.
Where I belong.

I’m doing well, I’m busy, I’m succeeding.

But where’s the “me” in this?
Do I make time to write? Or photograph (yes)? Draw? Paint? Read? Play music for fun?

It’s been years and the walls are white.
My smile has faded.
Or is fake.

My friends are far away and non-existant.
My folks and my pets live in a bubble too far for me to reach
And surrounded by a field of thorns too thick to breach.

I’m low on energy. I’m low on tolerance. I’m low on income and high on output.

If My Life Is Short

If My Life Is Short

If My Life Is Short
…I do not care about proper grammar any more.
…I know I will not be a rocket scientist.
…I know I will not be an astronaut.

If My Life Is Short
…Having enough money for end-times care is vital. It could come quickly.
…Loving the people you’re with is important.
…Having loving people around you is important.

If My Life Is Short
…Donating money to things you believe in is important.
…Volunteering or working for someone else or another cause is important.
…Helping others or the planet in some way is important. It’s all we leave behind.

If My Life Is Short
…I want to write music.
…I want to create objects with my own hands.
…I want to leave something tangible behind, something that means something to someone.

If My Life Is Short
…I don’t need to spend hours a day in the kitchen.
…Perfect organization of my bedroom will not matter.
…Collecting items for personal sentimental reasons will not help others when I’m gone.

Two years with the Accounting? Then on to Programming?
When does the writing Music come in?
One semester of Accounting, plus two courses. That is all I promise myself for now. One semester, with a vocal course alongside. Music, Art, Psychology and Science. There is no time for everything. Accounting first. Income is important. Then the rest.

Poem: Home II

Wherever the wind blows
That’s where my tent lives
Drive stakes into hardened Earth
Set down my pot and pan
And build a small flame
For boiling water

The wind blows dust and clay
Into my eyes
Gritty teeth grind
And blink
But I don’t mind

In an aquarium of sky
Clouds as heavy as semi’s scuttle
My sweat turns to mud
As I lay and watch

Bushes nearby rustle green leaves
But no large animal ever
Emerges to keep me company

–innerdragon

Poem: Death V

How am I supposed to look you in the eyes tomorrow
And say Goodbye.
Tell me how.
How can I give you a hug
and hold you tight
and breathe your scent
one final time?

Tell me how.
How can I tell you I love you?
How can I show you I care?
How will you know 1000 times all the ways I wish I could be there?

But you won’t know.
Your mind is elsewhere.
Only I will know.
It’s up to me to say goodbye now,
and you unaware
with eyes half-massed
and face turned away
and body still
Yet breathing
And sometimes you accept food and liquid.

How.

How can I leave you like this?
How can I leave you knowing there’s little chance of ever seeing you again?

–innerdragon