I keep trying to remember
who I was when I was a child, but
the blanks in my head
still sound like gunshots
and the scars in my skin
still tell stories
that I can’t remember.
There’s just the overlapping thoughts
that take me back to almost,
almost a part of me left
where out of sight
means out of mind
and being out of time
means being left behind,
just this walking whisper
still trying to be heard
in a room that’s still rumbling,
like vibrations and echoes might come together
to create an image of sound
that could show me
who it was
that I’ve always been.
Tag Archives: whisper
I keep trying to remember
I know it’s in me,
this fury that could wrap hands around necks
and stomp faces to the ground.
I could write a book about reasons alone,
but all I’d really need is a page,
one big enough to hold a single line
that might articulate
all the stupid things that piss me off.
I think I keep my hands in my pockets
because I know this is all in my head,
I know that when I’m angry
I really just need to be alone
and the only one
who can solve this problem
is that voice inside my head,
whispering to me
that my reasons aren’t good enough
and before I hurt someone else
I should focus on hurting myself first.
I’m wasting space all around me,
allowing myself to simply linger
along the dotted line
like the coke lines at the next table.
Here and now,
I’m sinking into myself,
having one-sided conversations
where there is no asking for advice
and the only shoulder there is strains my neck.
This is a rumble of spare parts
where skin stretches
and splits if you’re not careful
and I’m never mindful
when it comes to these landfills of suspicion
where recognition comes at a cost
and a whisper could destroy everything.
Life lands us in a cycle of days
where the same things are done
and the gestures we collect
are left in the back of our minds
until the stink of the person next to you
brings it all back for another turn.
If only I could whisper,
land somewhere close
to the places
I’d like to see.
I wish I knew
what I was thinking now,
between the tangled days
where we’ve been
jumping between the knots.
I just keep acting out,
unable to imagine
what cant be thought of,
that lonely side of possibility
where I’m the last one left
and trying to go on
just sort of happens
along our single paths,
we’ll always need,
or have the want
to balance out.
Hold onto that girl
who just might leave one day.
To know that fear
that’s worse than death,
not just losing, but
losing to someone else,
have the hands that touch
and the voice
against her ears at night.
It’s a smile
that’s never waited,
of things bringing gifts
from a more wanted area.
It’s the decade of growing hands,
loved along reaches
where who they are
because we care.
We all have someone
tucked into our thoughts
as they dream of only one
and for me
she laughs so perfectly,
yielding to each other’s voices
beneath such open mouths
where our lifted troubles
the whispering saviours
who’ve helped carve
our paths together.
The ugly side of pain cuts our eyes open
until we cry so hard we start to smile.
And our entire bodies become tremors
until we’ve calmed down
and our clothes need readjusting.
I’m still looking for the flawless
through restless nights that were steeped like a tea
where the dreams drove me off cliffs
over and over again
until I woke up.
I don’t want to be in this mind,
where it’s like time gives up its sands
into an hourglass that doesn’t catch what passes through,
it only vaguely records what passes by,
and at first glance it all passes for what thought we knew more about.
This frequency delivers shockwaves of misjudgement
where houses get torn apart
and the cities are all we have left to turn to,
like some self-fulfilling prophesy
that keeps us all whispering when it’s dark.