To the poem within.

by Poet on the Piano   Aug 27, 2014


Yesterday, I stormed grass fields
when 96 degree weather became
the record high.

I scrutnized the miles ahead like I
was a mountaineer with a cave of
jewels to discover.
Rain sprinkled yet never swarmed;
maybe I just wanted it as a
weapon,
to shield me within its fury
so I could shout and sob and
no one
would question.

Viridian glass sparkled from beneath
my tennis shoes, and I christened it,
impulses pushing me to keep touching
its sharp edges
until I became a dagger.

My eyes were blurry, heart weary,
because I couldn't see tomorrow
(today)
in any prominent light...
I kept chasing tails of thoughts
that would never be mine,
dreams I could never entirely fulfill.

We'd do anything, for each other.
For thrill, for adrenaline, for relief,
for those testimonies of catharsis...

but why must we bleed, to live?

-
Written 8/27/14 @ 12:40 PM

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