Away From the Flame


Stories are like marshmallows
Burning in campfires
Goey, messy, tough to control
A dance between you and the world
Burning in ways you didn’t expect
But making it all stick together
All the rich layers that can be bitter or brittle
Or melt under a warm touch
Or stay strong and steady through the thick and thin
Each marshmallow to be seen as too burnt or too white
All of them striving for that perfect tan
That perfect vulnerability that doesn’t kill you with carcinogens
A thin layer strong enough to hold a soft gushing heart

One-Sided

 
I don’t want to write about the gray cement
Or the gray sky or the gray buildings and clouds
I don’t want to write about how I feel too embarrassed to talk to myself out loud with earbuds in when people walk by
I don’t want to write about this weekend in all its nebulousness
Incompleteness
Cloudy
And stuffy
I’m trying to find where to escape to
Where to take you
I don’t want to write about my mundane daily indecision
Of what to do inside my treasured vacant minutes
Or where to shoot my arrows
The rat race before waking up
I don’t want to lie to you
With pastel little daydreams
Daydreams about flowers and hillsides
I don’t want to bore you
Or delude you
Or myself
With the same glazed over stretched out thoughts
Over embellished, minimizing the whole
Pink mist and wide hypnotized eyes
Euphemisms inflating my head
Floating me off the ground
Out of touch with the earth
In touch with a soft delusion
One side of the mirror
Reflecting an ever changing spectrum