A home for two.

Here,
Surrounded by slimy walls,
And gravelly asphalt journey-trails
Made up of my aspirations;
The highway made up of where I came from
And where I'm going:
I sit patiently.
Here,
Amidst the hustle and bustle
Of a thousand groaning nobody's
I sit patiently.
I watch the hours, the days,
The very months tick by
Without so much as a pseudo-throat clearing.
I count the cracks in the sidewalk
And the bricks in the dilapidated cardboard houses
Across my vision,
All the while waiting patiently
For you.
For this is a loveseat,
Made for two,
Stained with the bloody tears of my cries
For you.
I will wait on, as the days wax long
Until the moment of anticipation becomes the present
And you sit in this loveseat that I call
Home.

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Distant Heartbeat

The world swims quickly by
As I sit stagnant,
Un-thoughtfully packed into some nook, or crevice
Of this storybook.
My heartbeat lies asleep
Somewhere in Tallahassee.
I can't even hear my heartbeat
It's so far away.
Unlooked upon,
I will close my eyes and
Spend my time
In something comparable to rest,
But how can I have true rest when my heartbeat
Lies elsewhere?

Entanglement I Deny You.

One innocent mistake,
A moment of ignorance;
Clouded-brain action.
One mistake.
But oh, mistake,
You are not innocent!
You are scheming,
Sadistic dreaming,
I see your eyes,
The hateful shine and
Gleaming.
My gaping wounds
Are bleeding in my soul.

I've lost feeling,
The healing wind of touch
Is denied.
My eyes- Those fountains of grief
Leak like a water fall.
The teary water falls.
The simple desire calls,
The one moment of relief,
The cold blade glimmering with
Sadistic lust for my soul.
I deny it,
Hatefully despise it,
But oh, steel,
When shall I be loose of your hold?

The Eighty-Second Transient.

There she stood,
On the foggy border of
Transience and Paradise.
The former not quite behind her,
And the latter not quite ahead.
She could see in the distance
The shores of Jordan,
More than foggy in the distance.
Resistance to emptiness had destroyed her full-ness.
She stood there
Surrounded by empty chairs.
Eighty one to be exact.
Eighty one travelers who had
Waited their turns
And crossed the distant border
Never to come back.
But they had left her
Alone,
Waiting,
Infinitely longing
For the day of entrance
For her,
The Eighty-second transient.

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Your words are the breath for my soul. (Your soul is the typewriter)

Your words are the breath for my soul;
The in and out life coming and going
Into me.
Your words are the breath for my soul
Because they are messengers of perfection,
Leaders of insurrection
Calling mutiny against anything that is evil
In me.
Your words are the breath for my soul
Because they carry your heart
Upon their backs.

Your words are the breath for my soul,
And if your words are the breath for my soul
Your soul is the typewriter,
The instrument of Divine Fiat,
Awakening me from my dusty deadness.
I've tried and tried a million times
To write a heartbeat on a blank page,
But the ink dried,
The heartbeat died,
Life escaped me.
But when the tap of your keys
Occurred in my direction,
My crumpled-page heart
Awoke,
The wrinkles straitening into
A script,
With all the lines I need to be the Romeo
For your never dying Juliet.

-Misfit
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Companionship. "Misfitian" Prompt #1

I feel the fog,
I swear I do.
I feel it drawing heavy on my soul.
You and I walk beside the river,
Or perhaps it is a lake,
I never can quite tell.
You are like a grizzly.
You scare me.
You have a wild beauty
That rages like a bristling coat.
It overcomes me.
It melts my soul and heart into
Collision,
Making me feel like a small child
Leading you along this lake-like river.
Or are you leading me?
I never can tell.
Enrapt by your savage beauty,
Fiery in your eyes,
Flaming through your dancing hair like
The arrows of Hino* himself,
I surrender to your companionship.
Let us journey into the grey,
Side by side,
You and I.
We will leave behind us a trail of
Gnarled branches
And shadows,
For you carry life on your back
And trap light itself
In your glistening, emerald
Eyes.

*Hino was the Iroquois god of the sky. It was said that he shot arrows of fire.

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Glued Apologies.

A card.
A simple white card
To cheer me up
And smile my heart.
Bur from the start
I was destined to destroy
This moment.
It always happens like this.
Your wooing smiles are cut short
By one
Negligent word,
Or action
Or Re-action
Breaking your smiles into
Shortness, and hurting the attraction.
The coldness returns.
Spurned by my mis-intended
Fruits.
Apologies stay glued to my lips.