Post by artolmaeus on Dec 11, 2022 23:11:33 GMT -6
with my umbrella prepared, just keep it tucked in
let all the rain soak, maybe wash
sometimes the greatest moments
are when we are crying, and we don't stop
like clouds so full
there is no sunshine to be had
until it all pours out
staring out a dinghy window
with some sharp, bitter coffee
not quite creamed, not quite sweetened
just what is needed though
swallow it all down slowly
until most of it is lukewarm
maybe fully lackluster
the leaves of the tree outside the window
keeping time like an unmetered metronome
as drop by drop they bounce up and down
and this is when the garbage gets walked to the curb fast
and it never was better
as all this bitter swilling in my mouth
taking care to give space
as both hope and longing wants so bad for the sun
but this wait, oh this wait is bearable
nice, like the foreplay necessary for joy to come
that it might last longer than the burst of light through clouds
and in some reticulated refractory space
all the hormesis of something less than bliss can set that stage
most of the time, the struggle feels more like life
than any arrival
maybe this is why, departures are so much more satisfying
because it leaves things unresolved
and we can all imagine
just how the bitter might have something on all that is otherwise too sweet
still, the world spins
and I can never get dizzy enough
like holding onto hunger
and keeping company with a glass of water
there, there is time for all the things that speak, to not hold their silence
and I am in a hurry, too often
to really hear it slow enough
to relish all that is unfulfilled
still, the world spins
and it doesn't mean as much at the top
like when you're clinging onto the side.
let all the rain soak, maybe wash
sometimes the greatest moments
are when we are crying, and we don't stop
like clouds so full
there is no sunshine to be had
until it all pours out
staring out a dinghy window
with some sharp, bitter coffee
not quite creamed, not quite sweetened
just what is needed though
swallow it all down slowly
until most of it is lukewarm
maybe fully lackluster
the leaves of the tree outside the window
keeping time like an unmetered metronome
as drop by drop they bounce up and down
and this is when the garbage gets walked to the curb fast
and it never was better
as all this bitter swilling in my mouth
taking care to give space
as both hope and longing wants so bad for the sun
but this wait, oh this wait is bearable
nice, like the foreplay necessary for joy to come
that it might last longer than the burst of light through clouds
and in some reticulated refractory space
all the hormesis of something less than bliss can set that stage
most of the time, the struggle feels more like life
than any arrival
maybe this is why, departures are so much more satisfying
because it leaves things unresolved
and we can all imagine
just how the bitter might have something on all that is otherwise too sweet
still, the world spins
and I can never get dizzy enough
like holding onto hunger
and keeping company with a glass of water
there, there is time for all the things that speak, to not hold their silence
and I am in a hurry, too often
to really hear it slow enough
to relish all that is unfulfilled
still, the world spins
and it doesn't mean as much at the top
like when you're clinging onto the side.
