Filament, rebar, stucco, paint

(Something I wrote for somebody.)

It's materials of gray
And gray matter
That builds.
It's green and it's blue and it's red
That
Fill in
That overflow
That make the build worth doing.
It's ancient words and
forgotten thoughts
Stuck in the cracks and
Us, breathing
Speaking new life to words that
Never were
That lay what's on top
Deciding
Where it goes from here.
And when one day
It is a room
In which people can
Stand and make laughter
And forget that they were worried
About anything
That is how it
Will be
Put together.
It's constructed from the bottom up
And the inside out
One single
Day at
A time.

Choices

One by one they come and
Lay their flowers and their stones
Down at my feet.
And they look up at me,
And I am supposed to
Guess which hands are dirty
Which hearts are uninspired
And which one is not terminal.
I'm talking about expiration dates and
Games and
Things that only pretend to be real.
And I
am SO
not good at guessing.

lucid

surrender it
now, NOW I am saying to you.
Drop your guard and come with me.
Stop tensing your shoulders-- no! Will you
STOP!
Let your hands dangle at your sides
And stop looking back behind you
And just follow me.
I would hold your hand, but you see,
I can't,
because-- Oh!
Look, there it is now.
Just up ahead there.
If you look into the darkness and just sort of
Let your eyes go out of focus
You can see it--
But it's just kind of like
A faint blue glow.
You have to really look.
It'll get more obvious
The further we walk.
Now come along please.
Do you trust me now?
It's not going to take much longer
And
We'll be there and
You can wake up.

which, I wonder

But you see, it's confusing because now I am crying.
And I just wish I was different.
I wish it so hard it devours me.
And if I were different, maybe he would love me and
Things would be different and
Maybe I would be happier?
But
As it is now,
I am just me.
I'm not the "type"
I'm not the pretty one
And so
The choice should be clear.
And sometimes, it is.
But right now, I am crying.

After all, he's the one who makes me smile when I'm down, right?

Wait wait wait wait.
Whose face
Did I see in
My dream
Last night?

Moved by Fictional Strife

He is looking at her
With that vulnerable expression
And she is saying
"Stay away from me"
And it is like she is
Punching him in the face and
Cutting off his air supply--
That is, if he needed one.
And I am so
Caught up in it
That I even forget that
Something like
This
Is not
Real.

Song of Night

There was a time
When I stood on a stage
Wearing black
And sang
(Among others)
these words:
"Riding on the wings of our dreams."
Make of that what you will.

In Twos

selfish selfish.
I want
the love
of people
whose love
I have
no right
asking for.
so selfish.
I reject
the love
of people
who are
practically shoving
it in
my face.
misguided me.
I don't
know what
I want
or who
I want
it from
most of
the time.
misguided, misinformed.
I act
so petty
that it
takes me
aback sometimes.