an ending to
the having to die
in order to start over, anew
the never ending confusion, "bleed through"
what it means, our "we",
does it mean more to me,
than it did, does to you?
tell me to fuck off,
but stop it, us
these "closer, go away",
"too close, you got to, the real me", games
all of us,
we are to blame
heads should, yes, be hung, in shame
for that which we behold, then betray
technology tidbits instead of vulnerability, slain
friends are humans, too, underneath
naked hope, noble, underneath all the sheets
all the photos and "easy bake oven" nods, grabs
can never be enough for what we lack, don't have
the "love struck" attention, all the magic we are missin'
so said the babe,
"it all comes out in the kissin'"
not me, the one he was remarking, that for
but that kinda shit, sweet
I'm a whore for, adore
with soul, with passion
with heart, god damn it
where is it anymore?
tick, that tock, ever faster, time passing
as we hide and hurt, distract our lives away
someone standing before you
arms outstretched, lets walk together
let's sit and talk and fuck our phones
and, not phone sex,
cheap wad shot moans
I've done all that
and it did me in
rode the train to hell,
for the "feel something", not skin
but you know what killed me,
undone, in the end?
the unexpected, unfathomable "sweet"
in the never saw it coming, "him"
so call me obsessed
with the heart, yes i am
it's rare, lasting connection now
world of "grab n go", starve, but for "thankful", "eat spam"
world of words, tossed off, too easy
world of "take this", numb it out,
feel the terror, when queasy
over anything that makes one
look deep, in themselves
i've took that train, called
straight into hell
but what, the point,
if there be found, fostered,
yeah, i got fondled and "did"
by age seven
but so what, so many,
this happened to, sadly
why, jesus christ, do you think
i seek, give love, a little light
to the point of "madly"
because it matters
what we say and do
because i know how it feels
tattooed forehead marked, inked
"born to be screwed"
so i never want to be
all the horrid shit I've experienced, seen
i just want to care, the few, left, any
whose eyes have that
"not meant to be here either", glow, gleam
land of nothing is, as nothing seems
i want to die, as "fucked up", but humanly possible, clean
owning my shit
and genuinely saying, I'm sorry
for the wounds, warped, within
that cause schizo expressionistic
gushings, spun, starry
black and blue eyes, mislead
and confused, times ten
so "the inward" bleeds outward
and it's back to square one
again and again
how the heaven to navigate
the "me", loving "you"
and whether any of "this"
means anything at all
our minds, overtaxed
filling in the blanks
what it means now,
when few, can barely handle a call
on that damn thing now,
we, "the all", in all of us, inescapably addicted to,
or crack, private parts
so, in secret code, known by "the suck" or "the blew"
at least that addiction included
physical contact, in real
but even that, ever more
just a wasted reality for the
"black hole feed", feel
its just more, more, more
and more, for "the same"
and deflect, disavow and don't ever take blame
we need a "courage transfusion"
said the goddess leah
"can we invent that", infusion
amongst all the mundane and the constant information intrusion
yes, gorgeous, beautiful,
let's give it a name
one that doesn't need a point, as in the overused, "exclaim"
it's called "stand up"
and be a human,
woman or man
be willing to risk, reach out
for the hand
that comes not to bite,
back stab or betray
but the one
that just loves you, god forbid, without stray
all your flaws, fears, fractures, "fires",
that make you so beautiful,
pure, the want, gift, just stay
as in stick around
and just adore you, in full
knowing without you, life, not the same
sad and dull
its in the electric
that cannot be charged, "usb"
the one called "human magic"
that can, does exist
in the invisible "cord of kind, one of", bond
you and me
it lives and dies, "give, receive"
and all it takes is a little effort
to keep it watered,
and a little risk
for the reward,
this "thing" called "ours"
a safe haven away from all the bullshit, sweet reprieve
it is, and was, quite real and beautiful, all along
for the man that inspired a new meaning, becoming, in "stand strong"
(for all the things misunderstood, in silence,
and overthinking, then speaking,
may the wounds, they mend, made right, then, when wrong)
bowen hart roselli
26 may 2020
the realm of the poetic.
prisoner of the psyche and the inescapable. heart.