Day #41- Indecision(s)

July 31st

Pressed on this mattress,

Spinning and turning since 8 in the morning,

Backwards days I thought were past me.

I still think of her,

And you at the same time.

I couldn’t make it up,

Make up the time?

Or decide,

Decide if this was the right kind.

I know you thought you could stay and I wanted you to.

August was a starter,

July 31st was the day it started with you.

The day of weddings in summer times,

Yellow shades like James Bond,

The last recording of the old camcorder,

The Hi-8 Tapes of Dana Point,

The last Marriot,

The last time I saw the outside world.

I couldn’t decide.

Did I want to stay in the breeze,

And the Dana Point,

And the main point,

And the time you met me at the beach

In that pink blaze of beauty,

In that high school memory,

The first of love and burning

And late night madness,

All of it was!

All of it had to be!

When July 31st came,

It came and went,

It all was love,

It all of summer,

It all was indecision.

Day #39- Hits

July 28th

Taking hits and giving in..

Thought I needed it..

Device for the devices,

Can’t see the scar that fades away..

And your head too,

And that tea a little soft too,

Wrenches,

Bring them,

You did.

Trenches,

Lost, and you dig,

You did?

Where is often,

Is it daily?

Is it now,

Then,

Past,

Present,

Broken,

Tremble,

In.

Is it a minor concussion,

You know?

From all the hits.

Day #38 – Trenches

July 27, 2018

Sunrise,

Blood moons,

Lunar Eclipses,

Days turned to night with you,

Embarrassed a little with you,

Or maybe because of you,

Stretching Thursdays into Fridays,

Watching night fall,

Bitter ending trails to form from

This new kind of norm,

Escaping from the ache,

Moving towards the mistake,

Taking it in the gut,

Sick, in the rut,

For the secrets keep you stuck.

Passing nights with you,

Falling in circles,

Spinning a little bit too,

Asking for fixing,

Looking for wrenches,

Lost in the trenches.

 

 

Day #34 – Arrival

Middle man for a second,

Dropping you off and leaving it,

Summer was over,
Leaves were left for you,

Summer had a little sad,

I knew that was because of you.

Missed you now,

And a little then,

Gifted with memories

But not with forgetting.

Dropped it to,

Middle love,

For this place had a lack of

Family,

A lack of thirsty,

I knew I had a burn,

And a scar,

And a place to light it all.

I was stuck for a little,

At it for a while,

Here for the arrival.

It should be coming soon.

Days- 25 #..Numbers

Present tense,

Grinding against the self,

Putting your old fear on the shelf.

If this is noise, what kind would it be?

Struggling to come up with the words,

Yet you form them for me?

I can sit back but not relax,

You are the One that created

The Syntax.

Can I form words,

Or numbers?

Yet counting you call

Is your plan, was, will be,

Books opened,

Open,

Will open.

Numbers and transgressions.

We are the ones you count,

And track and gather around you.

 

60 Days.. 8.22- The Town

8.22: Town
Had this town in the rear view,
Now we know we gotta go.
Drove slow was my criticism,
Is this really cynicism or not?
Cause when we get the sun
We get the Son.
I wanted,
I wandered.
I felt the thunder in the
Dry sky,
Who would want to lie?
The more I travel this state,
The more I cannot erase,
Denver will always be clever.
It will always call me back in.
Remind me of the days when..
I am down below the memories.
I am up above them too.
 I had a long list of regrets,
A longer list of pain to get
To.
But it was found,
In the town.
Am I a lucky one.
Can I see what I got?
Can I settle for better,
Or can I stay this weather?
Stick around,
Find the town.
Seek what you can
Try to live in the found.

60 Days: Friday Night

Friday night
Getting things right,
Writing is the way of life,
Pen in the end,
Is gonna  get the win,
Tongue ready with the white
Rider,
Aren’t you the justice I seek?
Aren’t you the painful one
In the meek?
I can’t help myself anymore,
I got to get back to wanting
More,
I thought I could carry myself down
This path,
Down 60 days of thunder,
Down the days where I
Used to wonder.
She still is there,
And so is he.
Standing in the middle,
Asking for friendship
With me.
The future seems to
Still be a choice,
Dad is restless and
I can’t hear his voice.
What kind of medicine will
It take to get grandma out
Of the grave?
Or make that white winter of
Comfort ever start to change?
These lines have been drawn,
And I can feel the yawn,
Its 3am and I am ready
For the dawn.
I am not friendly anymore,
Cause all I ever gave to you
Has been wasted.
I thought I was gifted enough
To get the climb back here in,
But instead I’ve been left with
Colorless paintings,
And all the times I wish I could
Have been better.
I got more to store,
And more to live by,
I got to many things to
Skip, to tell you of these
Bad hips.
I need a new walk with Ya,
So tell me if that can happen
Soon, or by noon, or by the
Next Friday night.