Misunderstandings and Wrong-Footed Landings

Lost Writes (2003)

Friends are won.

Friends are lost.

Sands of Time

Slipping between fingers.

Hoping to rekindle

The dying flicker

Into a previous flame.

Through elastic misunderstandings

We stretch things out

The wrong way.

And we try to snap it back into place

But you're handing me

No attempt...

I guess... silent contempt

Is something appealing.

But I've yet to wield that sword

So I'll just

Cut through my feelings

With blade words.

Slit Honesty's encasing

And bleed you the truth.

If only in hopes

You will open your eyelids

And out will come pouring

Eternities of retained silence.

And you will tell me what's soaring

Inside the stormy violence

Of your locked up hurricane thoughts...

But for now...

Just stare at me

So vacant.

And hope that my blood sizzles

Like some morning bacon

For you...

But don't count on it.

I won't fizzle a flood of worries

So that I drown in it.

And it's true -

If you mismatch my fucking stories so red

And color them blue,

I can't be held accountable

For the ways

You pave misinterpretations

On your own roads of glue

Where you stay stuck.

Looking up and counting the same stars

Of your own stagnation,

You little fuck.

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