it’s chilly again
this morning
we had our peek into what
the rest of next season will look like
i could even feel my mood
shifting
upwards
and now it’s cold once more
the dreary, winter sky
the brisk winter air
that slices your face if you don’t cover yourself well
and the hopelessness that accompanies it all
[i wish i could enjoy
anything
about winter
but my soul was made for
anything
but]
poetry-writing
poetry-thinking
poetry-mulling and pondering and shirking
duties to home and work
in order to write and ponder and mull and think
and write some more
i really do need to
see if anyone else would ever
want to read these silly poems
where do i even start to look
when i don’t have a social media
in which to peruse
and obsess
and screenshot
and never ever ever apply to?
loom
lurk
live, laugh, lobotomy
the dark humor of
the millennials who can say
“tumblr raised me”
or maybe we raised tumblr
it’s always hard when the similarities
squeeze logic
from the picture
[i’m rambling
i’ve lost the thread
of this poem]
high ho
a pirates/actors/writers/millennials life for me
my own imagination
is a fickle, fickle place
sometimes a comfort
sometimes an anxiety-ridden nightmare
full of all the fuel i put into it
over years and decades of
self-hatred
and self-loathing
and self-harming
and imploding
and all i thought i’d want to accomplish
and all i still want to do
but am frozen to
the spot when i try to try
maybe
as with the imagination
i just need to keep on
gently
trying
and exploring
till i find a neat little [abandoned] space
and sit inside it
for a while
imagination
figments fleeting by
a socked foot slipping past the corner of your eye
an echo of your own voice, continuing on and on and on
and the raptured words of someone you don’t even know
swimming in your
mind
~~~
i suppose i’m doing
exactly
what he invited me to do
[which is pretty cool]
~~~
if i can’t explore
abandoned buildings near me
i can at least explore
the abandoned ruins
of my mind
the rapture didn’t come like how we’d been taught
we thought
standing around
perhaps asleep
perhaps in prayer
we’d
just be levitated from our bodies
up
and up
and up to heaven
instantaneous
immediate
immaculate
but the rapture took so damn long
trekking from old homes to new ones
each more dilapidated
less clean
than the last
there was very little sleep
and even less prayer
towards the end
crossing borders
swept into vans
when least expected
[i suppose at least that one
was instantaneous
and immediate]
[but the insides of those vans
could hardly be called
immaculate]
and now here i am
being told that this final step
is the real rapture
but haven’t i been told that
for each step of the way
i’m starting to stray from my faith
and this tiny cup of gross-smelling liquid
barely coated by some sickly sweet scent
over top of it…
i thought the rapture was something that would happen to me
but it looks like i happen to it
i control it
but maybe
just maybe
i’m sick of all this rapturing
maybe i wanna try my luck, after all this time, with the heathens
i’d love for this
to actually be the
fuck-it era
i’m entering
as i’m feeling
it might be
right
now
i hope it is
i hope it is
i hope it is
[because i’m so sick of feeling so
scared
all the damn time]
got lost in my own story
the other day
invigorated and interested
and utterly captivated
[at least within that first section]
there were issues with the next
that’s true
but tiny edits only needed
in the top which
needed few
and i just wanted to learn/read
more
that was cool
that was cool
my body feels like it is
about to fall completely
apart
and i simply hope it stays together
for one [or two] more circus lessons
and an evening voiceover class
after all that
it is welcome to
fail
because friday is the day
i have a two hour massage booked
and hopefully
hopefully
hopefully
that can put me back together again
[or at least break my body apart
in such a way
that fitting myself back
goes the right
way]
i think
one more poem
i think
one more stream
of the consciousness
of the mind wandering
of the fingers tappity typing
all the way across the screen
one more poem
of waking myself up
the addition
of composition
to my coffee
and hydration
the combination
is what helps me
feel
slightly
more awake
slightly
more alive
slightly more ready
to make this day
one
that i can at least survive
[someday
i may just
thrive]
but today, i just have to aim
for one more poem
at
a
time
kipventures 