Wednesday, December 10, 2014

i.

after enough time you learn to read it like a barometer. 
the waves of nearly obscene self-regard and self-doubt,
self-hate even.
the readiness to pillage one's own coronation
by force.
the realization that barely dignified survival
is the ceiling.

back
and
forth.
pessimism/optimism.
death/birth.
ashes/fire.
vulture/phoenix.

oscillating at a higher and higher frequency.

the weather is right for change
hell, for something at least.
all he has to do is reach.


ii.

there it is.
the steady hum of anxiety
rising like a clarion call to action
the pulsing cries of crickets
back again so soon. 

the same siren he felt
for a whole week before
he finally asked her. 

for two hours he felt
giddy and panicked
wondering
what would happen next.

felt like he'd
jumped into
a frozen lake.

he'd be damned
if he let it drown him
again. 

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