Grasping at a dying whips of youth while becoming a man,
Feeling like a child,
Feeling like an old man.
Gods am I a fool,
He who speaks swiftly and with full intention at a moment,
But stutters and spits,
or says nothing,
at all at the right ones.
And an anger.
A frustration, a sadness, a looming specter of fear.
As I brazenly go, skipping with oblivion.
Holding on to nothing but the bridges I make as I go.
A plan uncharted and unmade before me.
I slide myself through comfortable channels,
And slide past the difficulties.
Finding who happens to be in my way and making
intimate handshakes of vice.
Letting Love pass by.
It speaks in a language I do not know.
I know only the softness of thighs,
The breath of yours on mine,
The mind beyond the movements.
I feel them as real as our hearts beating
I feel them in sighs and gasps
And I hold them in my arms.
but I forget to catch.
And say nothing as you go back to your mental world
I’m caught in a web of assumptions
trails of possibility.
And a bitter wave hardens me from the inside.
My thoughts like tree rot spread through my core
Until I hate to look upon you, until I hate others
I wear my bitter jealousy in a smile.
Waiting for clarity.
Lost in contradictions.