A-Non-Sequitur

I’ve got to keep writing,
even on days such as these,
when my words would much rather sit beneath my tongue and rot. Don’t bother with me today; I’ve got a lot resting on the containment of my thoughts. There is nothing like having something to say so desperately and finding that the silence is louder than it has ever been. If I screamed, my voice would be drowned by my lips, and never touch the open air. You know this feeling, you’ve been here before—- in the living room some years ago, and the people around you discussing their future—-in the car next to him or her, when there is a defiant line that needs to be drawn—- in your bedroom, when you’ve been pinned as the problem—- in the middle of two people you love, dearly, playing referee.

Roadwork Ahead

Life is full of decisions,
One always has options, and I find this absolutely exhausting at times, especially when I know what I must do. And in those moments, when my amiss nature, a constant companion not easily shaken, leaps from my side to the back of my neck, and rides me like an animal. Digging it’s claws into my flesh down to the bone. It’s the red stains on my shirt that remind me that life is all to real, and that I am all to easily amused by it’s diversions. Happiness, satisfaction, gratification: these things are worthy of pursuit, admirable no doubt, but what will be the cost. How much will you pay dear self, and to whom.

Poignant

I can’t write about love,
No, it’s not the lack there of that has me dried…
It’s every single little thing that’s become romanticized, exploited, disfigured.
Is nothing sacred?

There are times that I find myself standing still,
And my thoughts become like a windmill,
Turning and turning in that perpetual motion around my head.
And when the wind is still, when humanity holds it’s breath,
I can hear the voice of God.


I’m so tired of being scared.

Dear Internet,

I would like to inform you that because of your generosity and availability I am obliged to take complete advantage of you. Not only are you a loyal companion but also you have risen above and beyond every expectation in all your amity. Because this is a give take relationship, I am extremely thankful that you are non-exclusive, and hold you in the highest regard. You are the reason I find myself to be absolutely indulging. Because you have accept me with open arms, and because you have allowed me to express myself in the manner of my choosing, I nominate you as the single most destructive invention known to my existence. How I love you. With you, I can be everything I’m not.
Thank you and good night,
Autumn

We Could Build a Sanctuary

Collect our hats and yarn,
make a house out of cards.
We can try it and see if we like it.
Why not a sky of yellow, and grass, orange.
We’ll plant trees meant for climbing.
Yes, yes, I can see it, we’ll dance around, bare feet.

I’m so tired of being scared.

Oh a Desprate Rant

What we have made a beautiful world to be.
A masquerade, a plastic tree, a sitting pool, an ambitious fleet, a silver trey, a lit up screen. Amuse us, don’t use us. We’re an individual, that’s why we pay a pretty penny for our torn up shirts and jeans with holes. We’ll look authentic, but never pay our dues. Lets make things complicated for ourselves, and fill our shelves with the latest version of the oldest discoveries; lets throw our love at the first person we see. Lets make sure everyone knows how deeply we feel, and how much we’re real. Lets romanticize our flaws, and dig deep inside us and sit there, with the blinds closed.

Sir Winter, I welcome Thee.

I enjoy the cold of winter, it evokes thought. It evokes feeling. In the cold, my fingers curl, like spools of yarn, clasped tightly, they find their place away from the wind.

A Post-Lude

I saw myself today,
Age 62, and my hair grey. I was sitting at a stop light with a cigarette in my left and the fingers of my right grasping firmly around the top of the steering wheel. The skin on my face, a subject of time and gravity, was pail, no rose in the cheeks. My lips were tightly closed as though they were holding something in place, my teeth perhaps. Around them ran lines both vertical and horizontal that met two crescent shaped indentions on ether side, which boarded once plump cheeks that now greatly resembled deflated balloons. Like a well read book, with a broken spine and it’s covers curling outward, my shoulders rested in an unnatural manner so that my neck long, and frail, curved like a tree growing out the side of a cliff. My head rested there upon the trunk and on my nose and expressionless face were a pair of rose tinted sun glasses that took up the greater half both my cheeks and forehead. And there I sat, in my white Cadillac, windows down on my way to where, I do not know.

A Meditation For The Pallid

Can you hear it? Listen narrowly, this is wind.
Sit still…your constant movement is depressing the silence.

Shapeless, formless, oh to be as the air.
To move with such harmony, in and out of avenues,
Through the branches of great oak trees.
To touch the mountain summits, and skim the seas.
To compress a city to the ground with one simple gust
To direct flight and get people where they must.

How I wish I shared your liberties,
How I wish I could move with such ease.

What the Hell

My skin is raw now,
From this chronic condition—
No sleep you do not owe me a thing, anyways , I’m to proud to ask.

I’m going mad, and it’s the hours, I’m always glancing at the clocks.
One minute has passed, now two, now three—one hour, two. And nothing is done, like usual.

Over looked.

Day-In-Day-Out

Yesterday my mind was spinning, today it is numb.
I would explain but my mouth is dry.

I’ve collected a few things, gathered them in, and set them in the corner,
The dark corner:
Shadows brown, they move with the light.
At night they blend in with the absents of light.

I hide a lot.

I hide a lot.

What makes us grow, what carries us from here.

My eyes make me think I’m lying when I look onto my reflection…
“Come on man, your fine.”

Crazy, for life.
For life.

What makes my heart throb.
I feel my pulse.

“come on man, your fine”

Pumpkin Love

Pumpkin pumpkin,

I promised I would carve you lovely…

But there where you are, you are already striking.

Truly,

Fruit flies don’t know that they do, forgive them.

Growing Up.

Remember Love,

The best decisions in life will almost always come to be the hardest.

sleep with both eyes closed tonight, the Lord is watching over you.

Autumn

Shhh, don't say that

Transitions—
I’m a poison of sorts,
I don’t know exactly why.
Not serious enough;
At times—to serious.
Talent,
Desire,
Talent,
Retreat.
Ideas lots and lots of idea.
Tracking?
I’d like to see myself on my own before to long—
That is impossible.
I enjoy people, for the wrong reasons it seems.
I’m not blind, I see it all t clearly—that’s my defect.
Hiding, I’m becoming real good at not being found—
In. Plain. Sight.
Interruptions, everything— an interruption.
Feelings are fleeting.
Stop.
Don’t.
Choose.
What are you doing autumn?
Carrying around all this weight.
I’ll sale it to you, I’m fine.
You’ll buy it, left to assume.
We all bend,
we all over scrutinize,
we all try to call the bluff—when we care to.
Call my bluff.
Call. My. Bluff.

Kowing is half the battle.

Give me Something Real

Are you going?

19 and Jaded, something a mess.

I’m turning my days into the worst of my enemies,

I survive them with a melted mind, all the motions I’ve committed to memory.

I can do it all with both eyes closed.


Oh the Formalities of a wasted mind.

Oh the formalities of a wasted mind.

Let me alone, please let me alone.

Halloween

Great, another excuse to wear as little clothing as possible…you go girls, you get em.

I’m honestly disgusted.

This morning while droping a friend off...

Jonny: How can you see out of this, it's really dirty.
Autumn: yeah, I have not gotten around to cleaning it off.
Jonny: what is that? (pointing at a little chunk)
Autumn: Liz did it, I shoved a muffin down her throat, she regurgitated it and then wiped it all over my windshield.

1 a.m.

1 a.m. this seems to be the prime time.
My body is always tired, but my mind does not get the signal.
The music is so loud right now, and it moves me…to write.
What about, but what about hmmm?
I could study the vibrations and explain them,
Or I could sit outside and tell you of the cold.
I can tell you about my concerns and sublime thoughts of late.
But, those things don’t suite the mood, the mood.
Stop.
I’ve got a lot of ideas, most unfinished thanks to my undisciplined mind…
This mode has been killing me all night long, keeping me up past dawn.

Many, over look. Me.