Involuntary Ten

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling,

counting my breath from 1 –

2 –

3 –

You’re still not there. Maybe off on an adventure,

One I care nothing of, one I am not a part of

So, I close my eyes and count again, this time, the beats of my heart, 4 –

5 –

6 – Sigh…

You’re still in there, somewhere, tucked underneath the folds

a place inside me that I can’t reach. a place where I have no control

I count once more, how many blinks my eyes perform,

7, 8, 9 –

Tears never reached the floor…

that’s right, nothing comes after that –

You never were anywhere anymore.

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Nomad

Jumping from island
to island
brushing the minds of people;
pretending to belong
as the welcoming party
provides pleasantries –

THEY ALL KNOW ME

and then dismiss me into
the dark rickety corners of
their subconscious;
unneeded –

they don’t know me

written whispers and nicotine mornings

I saved a song for you
right here –
in my artery
Shouting in hushed tones;
the universe and the constellations
that seem
and become
a different flavor
in my corneas, as if
the world were made
to please my nostrils…

And those written whispers,
end up in an
ordinary napkin
or uttered to the wrong
taste buds
potentially creating new hues
for the soul; embarrassing the northern lights
or dicing the meat
of the mind; making a common butcher proud

and then comes the nicotine mornings,
because the dark periods were
just as bad
and I needed a hype
to continue on
with this ridiculous
hopefully fictitious –
monotonous charade
that apparently insinuates
that
nothing

is better
and the song
will still
be
tucked
somewhere

here –