'the wind is blowing a hole in my heart it is saying '...

i forgot what it was saying i read the things i used to say and wonder if i believe them anyway and listen to the paragraphs roll of some other more confident tongue and wonder where it all came from. its not here. and all that talk about god and right and truth and light and love and my regrets which run like ink black rivers throught this sea of nothingness where love should be living and the world giving something back or am i just in fact .... or am i just in fact in fact yes, in fact i forget what i was saying. all the time the continuity of my rhyming scheme fragments against the loneliness of the night which was once my friend and boon companion and now tortures me with your absence which is not the absence of just anyone but some one some one some other that i felt pulsing beneath and beyond the skin of retribution and lies and herein lies the secret, that one that secret right there will undo you if you look too hard and oh let it not be said, that i was here and you were there and we bled. bleedouts dont make it to the end. dont make me bleed dont make me see the thing i thought was never going to come again and dont say that i cant do that i can do whatever i need to do to show myself that there is still a heart in here beating not bled out not done not forgotten or drunk with illusionary distractions how you distract me with your green grey eyes and those hands and that soul singing out of your impassioned plea for some kind of light. oh this is where we started. read right here where i said

'The wind is blowing a hole in my heart Its saying don’t be an idiot. Its saying don’t be fragile in a strong time Its saying the still small voice of god is nothing To scoff at, its saying There is nothing to be afraid of But winds are like coins tossed in fountains.. Lucky ones are only lucky for the lucky All the rest of us have to wait. What exactly I am waiting for is beyond me really.. Some sign from heaven Some word written on stone Some parting of red water that will Tell me I am on my way home. If home is where the heart is, Mine is a wanderer. My heart which has Seen everything it sought beauteous and even pain is Settled into a rhythm of rhyme and reason rhythm and blues. Bluest but best times Snaking in and out of the fast-laned highway Of memory. I have no regrets of anything I've ever done Only what I neglected to do, being too cowardly or too stonehearted. I want a softer courage now, one that doesn’t Need to bend the world to my making But will let it flow around my currents like A river tide. If acceptance was never anything I courted, suddenly its zen appeals. And I will wait for luck to decide that intention Is everything.'

Sign up to vote on this title
UsefulNot useful