Breadcrumbs

There's a maze in your mind, constructed to lead us to our graves. 

I left plenty of breadcrumbs along the way, planted a garden's worth of seeds in the hope that we might see pretty flowers bloom in spring, but even the strongest life needs sunlight, and we both know this path was built on sunsets. 

There were plenty of clouds drawn by airplanes, warning us of danger while we sat on the beach, oblivious to the heavy atmosphere dangling like Damocles' sword over our heads. The sun fractured through every droplet in those silken white trails, blinding us as we stared at the cresting waves. 

I wandered into the reproduction of realities I've only glimpsed for moments, surreal replications of irrationality and deception, the expectation of gravity combating the knowledge of love in a deadly game of fortune. 

There's a maze in your mind; I traced my steps backwards and found only dead-ends. 

permanent fixtures

Every sunset begs me to hold you,

kiss you like you're here

So I've started staring at the moon;

it never blinds me the way you do.

Every question begs an answer,

but I'm begging for silence,

stuffing my ears with strands of your hair:

Entangled and deafening,

crucial and beautiful,

permanent fixtures,

threading my lips

With stitches of love,

keeping me silent,

keeping us static,

with mountains of meaning

trapped under my tongue.

Here is the gift of my shortcomings;
tear me apart.

window

I'm measuring pain in sunsets, and I can feel the days getting shorter.
I'm awake with the deep blue dawn smothering my window, filtering the oxygen through thick cotton, barely conscious in the autumn light. There are always dreams, draining out of my ears to pool on my chest, saturating my skin with sluggish potential.

sunset mountain

I've watched the sun set from this spot for eight years, and it's always different. The codependent theater of my mind is showing double features of fools scrambling to the top of this rock. I see myself lighting a victory cigarette. I see our heaving chests grasping for oxygen. I see my hand in yours, inhaling your hair as it spills down my chest.

Tonight the sky is clear, smearing through Eastern Blues to flickering Western Reds. There is a sense of acquiescence in the fading vibrancy of these dying summer colors, growing paler as the world turns to winter. Last month I stared through the wildfire smoke at a sun the color of red rocks, and thought of you.

I'm scrawling these memories across the flattest stones I can find. This place is for drafting commandments, but I'm distracted by the view. Everything beautiful looks like a set of paintings, carefully wrapped in plastic and sitting on a shelf.

breather

I’m miles beneath confusion,
inhaling water to keep myself down.
Down under shimmering light,
like a plastic-wrapped sky
I’m inhaling water to keep myself down.
Surrounded by pressure
that’s blurring my eyes
I know I can’t leave,
not sure when I arrived
But I’m miles beneath confusion,
with weights on each side
So I’ll fill up my lungs,
with conviction and purpose
Rest on rock bottom,
try not to float free.