“Outside Yourself”

I.  . The Den –

Waking up in the Den of Sirens,

where rivers no longer flow, and the air is

as sour and dead as the resin coat under Her fingernails,

 you feel  Life,  creeping home to your body

as if you didn’t know it had gone out for the night.

The sweet stale odors of coffee and still burning tobacco

fill your lungs, enticing you, calling you back into Her web,

away from those bothersome thoughts of home and sanity,

and cauterizing your fear with the fire between Her lips…

…Waking up in the Den of Sorrow,

where voids are never filled, She consumes you

offering nothing in return but Her own emptiness; Her opiate.

you see Life, banging on the side door of your mind,

finally locked out after so much sneaking around.

The sickly ripe scents of beer and sweat sting your throat

And remind you of Life, sad and alone, left out in the cold.

 But She soothes the pain of the living, numbing the senses until they surrender,

Prisoners to Her warmth forever…

…Waking up in the Den of the Dead,

where men are left to rot, and

Hope is smoldering in the ashtray before you,

you hear Life screaming your name, but is muffled by

years of ignorance, and the excuses She whispered in your ear.

__________________________________________________

II.  Insomnia –

drifting afloat on a legless bedspread

a soft gray ocean of fibers carrying

you out to sea again.

Like driving your car from the backseat

or watching the world from inside your tv.

a brilliant light pierces the ghostly sheets,

breathing in deep the exhaled smoke

in the shadows of my room,

and reflecting my dreams on the walls.

bloodshot memories of happenings that never were,

scorched onto the surface of still open eyelids

searching the past like a textbook

and realizing that the answers

are always in the back,

and how unfair it is that studying always puts me to sleep

_____________________________________________________

III. Have we been Asleep –

Have we slept?

 The Body aches today with pains too familiar,

Origins held back to protect,

The sleeping dogs are best left a forgotten memory.

Sights that can’t be unseen and lives that can’t be unlived,

Actions, reactions, fractures and factions,

We push and pull, standing still forever.

Waiting for something to come along and calm the fever.

Wide eyed and awake, has it always been?

Recalling yourself like catching the wind,

Always fleeing just beyond your wisdom.

Like a dream that refuses to end.

Breathe in deep the poison you choose,

Lost in the world you created to lose,

A shepherd in the woods leading no one to nowhere,

And then looking back and wondering how you ever got there.

Have long have we been asleep?

Or have we even slept at all?

 

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