Sensor(r)y

I can sense a shift in our air,
the same static charge that
lingers on fresh laundry,
the morning dew that
pools in the muscle tissue,
it hooks a smile on wire or
pulls solemness down on
the eyelids like a curtain.

Where I live the rain can
smell like sulfur or salt,
I suppose it all depends
on your prerogative.

– B.

Dissociation

Bats in trees never speculate
on their lack of identity,
they never question
the logic of proper sociology,
they never place a
stamp on misunderstanding,
or twist and mangle over
a parking ticket;
standing still you start to
see it all the more clearly,
the numbness washes over,
like an anesthesia dream,
it’s all pitch black until your
eyes train to pick up on
the flickering vibrancy of
the big picture, the scheme,
the transference to a
dissociation before you wake
up drenched in sweat
at the notion that those were
ropes hanging from the
tree of life, not companions.

– B.

Small Talk

It could be a year,
it could be two,
but sooner or
later, we’ll all have
to face the truth.

So I tend to drink
my wine slowly on
solemn evenings,
and I eat my cake
when I want to.

In a world full of
infinite possibility,
routine change
and the thrill of
the fast paced,
you’re only at
your best when
you’re being you.

– B.

Parallels

Even the stray lingers on the
sidewalk when it finds its only
companion lying crumbled in the
center of a lane.

Even the bird frantically flies
in grief around her fallen nest
after the storm knocks it from
the branches.

Even the wolf howls he’s lonely
to the moon when he’s lost his
way back home.

There is more than one way
to feel, and there is more than
one way to cry.

– B.

A Home

I want to hold your hand
and visit a museum,
snicker at the lack of
substance in our history,
maybe discuss the
intricacies over coffee,
you don’t have to drink
coffee if you don’t like,
they’ll probably make
a smoothie if you flash
a bit of charisma, right?

We could choose to
make memories amidst
the polished bones,
walk back to the car in
the rain, feeling the
never-ending distance,
but so much less alone.

– B.

Falsehood

You’re not what I thought
you were, and that
is fine, be it as it may,
I’ll take the lack of honesty
and throw it away.

I shouldn’t have to prove
my value to you,
that lets me know you’re
more of a curse
than anything worth my
time on Earth.

– B.