I Replied
His words fell clumsily through his fingers. He, as though meaning to know their whereabouts, looked up. The words must be found, for it is the occasion. Here, like so many other nights it seemed, was the time to put them to good use:
“I’m ready” he laughed.
“For what?” she said mundanely, as though not already aware.
“I don’t know... I...”
“You don’t?”
She did, or at least somewhat did at this point. He however, did not. And he who thinks to know does not.
“...a..and he who thin...”
“Stop.” She said sharply, glaring holes through the wall that lay in front of them.
“What?” He exclaimed.
“You hear it too don’t you? Please tell me you do.” She shifted her gaze toward him. “You were just repeating it.”
“Hear wha...”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about!”
He recoiled further back than he realized. Staring back at her, he noticed that she looked more alone then she did before. He reestablished his space beside her. She seemed restless now, frantic even, and still alone. Her troubles, he could not know, for it was far out of his grasp to perceive. He stared puzzled at her. She met his stare for brief, but meaningless moments as she twitched back and fourth in between thoughts, until finally greeting it.
“Hello!” She shouted.
She received no reply. Yet, for some odd reason it roused a curious feeling in him that he should do the same.
“Hello!” He shouted back at her.
He too, received no reply. Now more alone than ever, her disposition deepened as she realized for certain that the eyes that looked back at her own did not share the same plight. If now was not the ti...
“You want an excuse to use the word anodyne! And the last thing that will be said is ‘I replied’ isn’t it? I hear that too. I hear it all just as much as you do!”
She was looking directly at the wall now. He was confused, as well he should be, for he did not hear the mindless cacophony she did. Yet, his respect for her did not fade. Staring back at her, anodyne and warm.
“You look nice.” he said meekly.
Her eyes did not move from their fixed position on the wall.
“Please?” She murmured through fresh tears.
She was well aware that her situation was worthy of pity. He, being aware of it now, and for all the wrong reasons, attempted to comfort her. With one cruel look at him his advances cease.
“I am looking at you, not him! You’ve drawn this out too long, don’t you think? If the point isn’t clear by now what is it! You’re struggling between using past and present tense, just get this over with! Make it stop!”
He looked at her more perplexed than ever. Without averting her gaze she looked back at him. There was a piercing fear in her eyes like he had never seen before, or ever will. He felt a sharp ridged pain in his neck. In his view, she fell out of focus as he raised his blood soaked hands to the foreground. Dumbfounded in his final moments, he thought of nothing except the faint and uncomfortable feeling of blood on his numb fingers and the strange and unfamiliar feeling of his throat where she lodged the knife into his flesh. He was bereaved for one final instance before he collapsed at the withdrawal of the blade.
“There’s nothing between us now” she cried.
She knew full well she did nothing wrong, yet felt it all anyways. She felt it like the fresh wet blood on her hands, or the person, now corpse, that lie beside her. She felt it like the barrier that she thought she had lifted.
“Why!” She cried “was this really necessary? You’ve made me more and more omniscient in your dull witted, pretentious story, for what? Would it even make sense at all if I didn’t use the phrase ‘fourth wall’? You didn’t make your point, you don’t possess the words to make your point. Or maybe you don’t possess the thought to even have a point! Speak! To me, not through me. To me!”
She collapsed in anguish, the black viscous blood of he who previously stood beside her, now deflated by her, absorbed her tears as both fluids coagulated on the floor between them. “I should kill myself right now” she thought. She did not want to, not yet. She thought for a moment, then rose unsteadily to her feet.
“You‘re a genius. You are excellent. You are everything perfect. I mean that. Really I do, I mean... I love you.”
She uttered the words with equal parts hate and disgust, though there was no way to discern for certain. By the way she said it, those remarks could have easily been mistaken for equal parts cream and sugar. Cream and sugar it was not, and upon remarking her seemingly profound statement she regaled,
“You can frame me as you like, but you can’t use me to cover up your mistakes anymore. I’ll lavish you with praise for pages if it pleases you, though I know that it doesn’t. You shift uncomfortably in your seat at the mere thought of wasting more words praising yourself. It isn’t even for humility’s sake either. It couldn’t be. One can’t humble themself, by themself. You don’t want them reading this to think you’ve wasted their time celebrating yourself, but that’s all this ever was.”
The silence between the two was palpable, or at least the words to express it were. She looked at the corpse, growing colder and more lifeless than before. She too, felt cold and lifeless. She felt the indignity that she will have earned pity in the mind of another while forever existing in a mind that warrants no such thing. “I could kill myself right now” she thought. She did not want to. She felt a void in her stomach, holes in her heart, and black in her lungs. She was a reflection of her maker in this moment, a mirror of her conjurer. Hate is what she felt first, then disgust, then sorrow, then nothing.
“Did I kill him? Or was it you? I don’t think I know.” She didn’t.
“Does it matter?” It didn’t.
“Was there a purpose in all this?”
Perhaps at some point in time there was. But now, it was uncertain.
“Hello.” She said.
“Hello.” I replied.
Foretold, Forgot
Disfuctional disillusion
Functions to its fruition
It’s intimidated intuition
Insinuated it’s institution
Imitated it’s illusion
Instantaneous incongruence
In fact into fiction
In tact, a prediction
Tasked to tie loosened
Loose ends
A lewd sense
Is prudent
Is proven
Is proud
Is shocked
It’s brow’s
Been brought
Down
It drops
Endowed
In thought
Allowed
To stop
But now its
Not
Aloud
A lot
A love
Is lost
Foretold
Forgot
I just didn’t go for it
Though I wish that I had
Regret lets you grow from it
Regret hurts you bad
Betrayed by belief
A fantasy, a fad
Preyed on the weak
Abandoned me and laughed
Victory
This is what victory
Looks like
Abandoned buildings
And rubble
This is what history
Looks like
The hand that kills things
Brands trouble
This is what misery
Looks like
A plan on seeing
Those lovable
Loved ones
Though subtle
To no one
To know one
Become undone
And gunned down
A war’s won
A corpse
Unwound
They hope for peace
Or at least
A cease fire
The deceased tire
Are tepid
Are cold
The young
The old
Brave, cowardly, and bold
Behold it’s horror
Bewildered and tortured
Builders and forgers
Filtered by borders
Deal death by mortars
Now your neighbor’s dead
Your kids are dead
The crater led
Your pain to dread
These are what tears
Look like
Conversation
Alive
And I
Surprise
With ease
Arise
I lie
Her eyes
Deceived
Stop
It’s me
A mask
Is free
Yes
Stop and see
And possibly
A masterpiece
Will pass for he
Disaster!
Please
You’re at your knees
I’m on my feet
You’re atrophy
I’m beyond discreet
It’s disgraceful!
Who me?
You’re hateful!
I see
Playful
Is that what you mean?
Not in the least
Well take it from me
The hate that you see
Is yourself
Be selfless
You’re selfish
You’re helpless
You’re hapless
For once
Let me have this
You panic
I prosper
I can’t stand it!
I conquer
I’m on her
You monster!
I’m not
You pondered
You thought
You squandered
I sought
I’m sickened
The plot
Thickens
Perturbed
You say?
Disturbed.
No way
I wonder why
An interplay
Is intertwined
So much dismay
Is undermined
Benign
Believe me
You’re fine
She needs me
Unwind
And heed me
You’re mine
Now leave me
#poetry #alterego
Spark
It starts with a spark
From the heart
To the head
Departs
And it spreads
To pen
To paper
And then
It stays there
Offends
It’s maker
It’s wrong
Once more
He hunts for
The feeling
The fable
The feeling’s
Unstable
Notes scattered
Across the table
It’s wrong
Begins and ends
And starts again
He grins, his pen
Is far from him
Amused
A muse
Makes amends
He finds his pen
It’s perfect
The Ravine
I hope you don’t collapse
Because the water flows fast
Through the gorge
Through the gap
You can soar
Through the cracks
Gored with a splash
A contorted mass
Because the water flows fast
And it can roar
In the black
And as it tore
Through the vast
A phantom at last
Abandons his past
But before he’ll pass
Screams from the underbelly
Seems come undone, undaring
Scenes left his wonders wary
Dreams from asunder, staring
Up
And to the light
Stuck
In a moving tide
Struck
The feelings fine
Cut
With another line
Hope
Horde the hope
In a horoscope
Stars don’t glimmer
They gloat
A reservoir shimmers
So you’re soaked
No
Dry in a boat
Deny that you float
Lies begin to bloat
Hide within your coat
No
A straight jacket
Your brain
The pain has it
The stain
Sustained habits
You’ve had this
The madness
Sick
Sordid
Sadness
Wits waver
The hapless
The hopeful
A tad bit
Unsocial
Yes
No soul
No sail
No boat
To bail
The water was real
You founded for hope
Never a reservoir
You drowned in your moat