Tag Archives: desperation

A Thousand Miles Distant

> I lay awake in bed, propped up on one arm, watching her sleep.
>
> She is dreaming, sighing, restless, but escaping from slow time.
>
> I lay down, lay my head to hers, so desperate to hear her thoughts.
>
> So desperate to close the distance, even touching, so we are one.
>
> The world out there is on fire, and the angels are not swooping in.
>
> We have our little place of solace, we have each other, we have love.
>
> But the flames of the world could come through, turn it all to ashes.
>
> Angels are not cavalry, but demons are eternal, unfeeling
> bushwhackers.
>
> In the morning, work and all that drudgery will be here, fill our day.
>
>
> I still can’t rest, find peace in the night, or in having her near, my
> own.
>
> I close my eyes, sigh, send a prayer to her, to that frantic dream
> world,
>
> that paradise may be ours one day, if not in this hollow, than in the
> life after.

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Some Beauty Out In Cali

The city is sprawled out beneath, almost looks like magic from up here.
The sun is gone and there are no stars and I just want to forever disappear.
The city is sprawled out in golden veins and pinpoint stars in the valley.
I watch it all, above this city for once, dreaming of some model out in Cali.
Some beauty strong and lithe and who would party with me when I get there.
Some beauty in a swimsuit blue and white, and with a blue lilac in golden hair.
The city is sprawled and from here it looks like something glorious and bold.
Forget summer is fading, and she left me, and the nights are getting cold.
Some beauty out in Cali knows my name, and has a devil’s pearl in her eye.
Some beauty out in Cali will make love to me, and then we’ll cuddle, get high.
The city is sprawled like a sleeping maiden, vulnerable and bright and sweet.
But there is no beauty up close, there is no lover here, there is no magic on my street.
Some beauty out in Cali watches the storm roll in with the churning silver surf.
If I can find my way out west I will be in her arms, an alien on this morbid earth.

I Fear I Am Boring You

I see you getting antsy, checking your phone,
growing restless.
I’m sorry. I try to find words to say.
Something interesting to say.
Even a joke, if that’d keep you here.
Don’t go. Please, don’t leave me.
Talk to me. About anything. Literally anything.
Your favorite band is a band I hate, but I want
to hear all about them and their genius from you.
Talk about last semester in nursing school.
Talk about that bitch Skylar and the shit she pulled.
Talk about vacations to places I could never afford to go.
Talk about anything. I will listen. I will care.
Don’t go. Please don’t leave me.
Please, don’t leave me.

The Ivory Tower That Welcomes The Lost

Las Vegas is bright by it is light invisible. There is nothing revealed. There is no warmth.

The songs of my youth, of infatuation and sorrow, call only ghosts whose teeth draw blood.

All night I was awake. All that came were bad memories. Aching for sweet things lost.

Nothing soothes this longing, for what I once held close, and for what’s never been.

The sun is coming up, and to the east, away from the city, it is blinding.

On the edge of the desert, a square of green dead ends into coarse sand.

Stately and new houses already abandoned, and I was late to the party.

Their are only ghosts here, and skittering shadows inside that don’t know my name.

Coffee at a kitchen table in a house that looks cozy, but demons ruin everything for me.

All my treasures and comforts offer nothing, where I have only time, and my buzzing thoughts.

I can remember the girl that bought me the poster for some obscure Russian art film I loved.

But she is gone, and I am here, and I can’t find where my new friends are waiting for me.

Coffee in a travel cup, a thin sweatshirt and sweatpants, and I’m heading to the desert.

There is an angel there, there is a tower of bright light and ivory, where she welcomes the lost.

She will hear the honeyed prayers and grant me rest, show me the way back to a home in this world.

Out in the desert she waits, the sun would not lie to me, would not lead me astray.

But still, there’s a gun in the glove compartment, if I’m let down one more time.