Scribbled Thoughts

Set the fire

but watch the sparks

die

again and again

no matter how

you try to coax them.

Perhaps you should have

given up long ago,

before the rain began.

Flip the dirt

onto the substanance,

hiding your generosity

to fuel my indignation,

my right to sulk

and demand attention

from the only one

who matters.

Anticipation of a flash

to light the densely-packed

haven

you secured for recuperation

from life’s trials.

Wait to sink into security

as the world wails

its pain,

a pain you also hold within

but daren’t

let others see.

Build me into the forest

where the world can forget,

but the birds

twitter with gossip,

whispering of mornings

hidden and precious,

a stillness settling

to respark the creative.

Transfer your life

for five nights

and see what is missing,

what is unnecessary,

and what is always perfect

no matter where you are.

Recount

a beloved story

to reassure your own,

ready to

experience a change

but loving

what stability

already exists.

Prepare to depart

for an escape

of everyday

and bury yourself

in the woods,

trying to stuff

all the comforts

into your grave.

Judge my skin

and guess my soul,

deciding my qualities

by glancing at body parameters

and measuring authority.

Can I even deny it?

Do I have enough of a voice?

Thoughts and imaginations

that do not quiet

stir up legs

to walk and wander

into wind and woods,

chasing a dream

of endless more

that is always interrupted.

Because people

cannot simply

keep walking

until they fade

with their fantasies.

Long buried

confrontations

spark events

that seem too late.

Are they even necessary anymore?

Or will the damage

of years ago

still fix a little

from these

afterthought acts.