u/KinematicStatic

Imagine a messenger.

You don't know them.

They have something to say.

What they say could be anything.

It could be truth.

It could be lies.

It could be both.

It could be fiction dressed as truth

or truth dressed as fiction.

You can't tell from their diction which it is.

Would you listen?

What if it costs only the time to take it in?

Let's add some character.

Let's say this messenger isn't unknown.

Not entirely.

What if they represent an important democracy?

Could they give you information

about a group in your kingdom?

Your wife, sister, mother?

Would you listen?

What if the words are aggressive?

What if the messenger looks angry?

What if the message carries hate?

Not just hate, but a cause for it.

I promise you will suffer no physical harm from it.

Will you listen?

It costs only the time to take it in.

Are you afraid of losing the seconds it takes to hear?

"Sire,

Why are you shivering?

Your guards are so near.

I cannot say if I agree, I've yet to hear what she has to say.

She says she hates Kings but..

If I may:

She's only known the worst sort

that would name themselves that way.

Can we allow her words to stay?

Maybe we can help her redefine them in our hands.

Show her what a King means in these lands."

I've heard enough.

"What have you heard?

She hasn't begun to speak.

Why are you turning red?

Do the words accuse you so?

I haven't heard them, she's standing outside.

Oh Sire,

Why do you cling so tightly to words?

Please, let us hear hers.

Your title is only as good as your actions."

I have no need for the words of a peasant. 

I have no need for the words of a traitor.

Guards! Arrest them both.

I will have peace in this kingdom with a wiser adviser.

Please stay behind a wall maybe.

Silence builds the bars

of my mayday faraday cage,

keepin' scars at bay:

"They're all the rage."

Stasis for static flags bad habits leeching.

Claim gave like wet clay

reeking decay seeping from the cage

they opened it a bit and spit:

"What's wrong with it?!"

Honed modern phone call home,

worst verse burst first ears cursed.

Hearse driver rather have'r purse closed,

even she close to going berserk though:

"What the hell do you know?"

Flow through the sewers of Twin Rivers

give your last kindness to a lost Pond.

Skip a rock atop'r depths,

savor what's left:

"I miss you, that's it."

She left a stain.

The glass window.

How she glows in the evening.

The shade turns and shifts

as shadows

dance in the receding of sight.

I am bathed in her magic

on the verge of night.

I stepped outside one evening

to find a string.

Not a string, a rope.

Oh and it was tied to me.

Tied through* me

Yes I woke up that morning

and the chain was linked through me.

I tugged on it and it tugged back.

After the third violent pull,

I was yanked back.

The rope was frayed,

until she yanked her side of the chain.

I left it alone for a day.

I did nothing but quietly pull that chain.

Eventually it was taught no matter what.

This stringy chain roped through town.

Over the roads and through the woods.

That's when I heard the sound.

The sound I was talking about the whole time.

Sea breeze

Surf breathes

in

out

Recede

Recompile

Salt dries

Sand piles

up

down

Sea breathes

Salty breeze

in

Surf cleaves

Shore bleeds

out

Recede

Recompile

Suede seas

Sure things

up

down

Salve balm

Substrate

in

Salt bloom

Sold mist

out

Recede

Recompile

Sea breeze

Surf breathes

in

out

It's a commonly held belief that moths are attracted to flame. Well any bright light source. They aren't picky.

But what we see and what they do isn't as straightforward as it would appear.

Moths have photo-sensitive cells on their backs.

This keeps them horizontal to the ground with the help of the moon.

But then we built a billion mini moons.

If you track their trajectory you'll find an incredibly sad story.

They aren't going *to* the light.

They are orbiting.

Locked into an intrinsic spiral.

For reasons they cannot comprehend.

Vectors are important information.

Which way am I going?

Relative to what?

"Where are we?"

Is incomplete unfortunately.

Where is good, but are you coming or going?

Even worse if when is hidden information.

You always need a direction but can be a difficult calculation.

Where would we be without Polaris?

I suppose I wouldn't be me and you wouldn't be you.

Polaris, the North's guiding light;

In context a contemporary stranger.

Our shepherd of no relation keeping watch over the oceans.

Providing a fixed point of direction without any concept

of our naïve ideations.

I often wonder how Polaris feels or would feel about this.

As I often find distaste at demands,

I am partial towards believing that this would not be well received.

That upon learning this,

Polaris would will itself to orbit just a bit slower or faster to move beyond use.

To be free.

I find it difficult to accept that,

Polaris is already free.

Given our reliance upon its presence.

It feels selfish to insist that it continue to be there.

That it continue to guide us.

We should say:

"We have GPS now, we cannot thank you enough but you may go."

"No, really. Its been amazing but we can't ask that you stay there for our sake."

That sounds ridiculous doesn't it?

Presence given, even unintended is never a demand.

Yet I feel for Polaris and its position in our cosmos.

A duty assumed without knowledge,

never requested,

but managed with grace.

Where do I start

confusion living within my heart.

Belief in a present ghost,

the most complicated host.

Pressure to reform,

reclaim norm..

Normal?

This is normal.

My modus operandi.

Aggrandizing a fly,

for I am but a duck.

Plied mallard plaster.

Crumbs of imaginary

circumstantial colors blur

into the soul's most wanted

torturous pleasure.

I am living

yet I can say

no more.

Cavernous rot

my insides lay

empty.

My soul hungers

yet I cannot

nourish.

Starvation steals

wounded hope dies

slowly.

Want forming need

never asking

intent.

Universal

inevitable

rupture.

Hopelessly lost in her maze

The questioned insanity appears

to be part of the plan you see

Tripping over the wrong folks

I don't know that seem to know

Something too well

Swell

Just the kinda thing I'd have

Expected

Is it her or someone

I want to be

Just like her

Woe unto me

Seeking relief

From a beast that

flees its shadow

Oh she would though

And enjoy every moment

Playing with her food

Keeping the game going

Oh she would though

Would she be anyone else otherwise

Sated moth stuck

Glowy web

Sticky web

Moth in the glow

Glowy good

Sticky fine

Moth relaxed

waits

Spider patient

waits

No struggle

No rush

Pliant moth

Glowy spider

I tread unthreading

raveling undone violently

by destined stitch

hitched

dragging and ripping.

Held volition by devotion.

Distance: illusion.

Unknowingly re-knowing

endings were converging

where becoming

was yet to start emerging

and we

were set to rethread.

---

I'm going for something Suessian / Suessy / Suessite in the rhyme. Idk if I got there but I do like it.

Feedback:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1uka7ub/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1uktznq/

Could I breadcrumb you to my door?

Would you meet me for whats in store?

Mission of peace

surrender

Do I use regular bread?

"Can we meet and talk?"

Something a little sweeter?

I can bring donut holes if you want.

"I'd love to get brunch with you!"

Something savory like garlic bread?

"Want to have dinner?"

I wish I had some spicier bread examples.

You can have me,

with naan,

or without.

Touch is important to me.

It is my love language.

"That's such a man thing to say"

Maybe.

It doesn't sound great.

But allow me to explain?

I don't like to touch people.

I don't like to be touched by people.

Fuck off.

Unless I love you.

Then it’s the only thing I ever want to do.

Like a living worry stone.

I cuddle hard.

Nothing can compare

to the volunteered touch

of the one I love.

Unrequested and given

because you wanted.

I hate the idea of appeasement.

I need to be wanted.

When I shrink inward

each touch keep me grounded.

It's not just about sex,

it's about mutual wanting.

I know what regret

feels like

I know what fearing

looks like.

I feel the shape of my fear

is deterministic.

I do not fear the regret

of choosing you.

I fear the regret

of not choosing you.

Where choice is a choice

my choice was already chosen.

Compelled.

Imperative.

I fear missing my chance to choose.

I fear choosing too quickly for you.

How do I slow an approach

that arrived before it left?

I fear you regret opening this door.

I fear you will choose

to close it for us.

I fear I am a child

getting too excited

too quickly.

I fear I am more than capable

of ruining this beautiful mess.

I fear how that makes me look

knowing my situation.

As though I was waiting for just anyone.

That I need a backup plan to act.

But the truth is that I'm trapped.

You are the only thing worth

upending my life for.

I can't act for you unless I know

it's you

wanting me too.

We can be wild.

We don't need to run off and get married

but

I'd be happy to wear your ring too

as long as it's us two.

I fear you are unsure about my kids.

I fear talking about them too much

will ruin this.

But I've grown a few limbs

and I don't want you jumping

blind either.

I love you.

I care about your future

your happiness

whether it's with me or not.

I can't have kids anymore,

are you happy with mine?

Do you have your own?

I have so many questions

I can only ask you alone.

Questions I fear I can't ask

without crossing a line

I've already crossed.

Offending you in the process.

I fear that I won't have the chance

but my love will never change.

Care to end the world with me?

I'd ask you for your number.

I'd ask you for a picture of your face

and a recording of your voice.

To keep me sane until

you are willing to see me.

(in this reality I have no anxiety and you're really into me)

We meet, pretending to be friendly.

While knowing we feel like animals.

That's the tipping point.

Touch point.

Breath pounding apex.

The wall collapsed.

The sins had already been made

their inevitable fulfillment

underway.

I'd do all of that with anxiety anyway.

You might need to help me

with the first part

It's hard to leap

in the dark

But at least I think you're really into me.

When you work in the engineering industry you run into some interesting characters.

When you work for a company that makes a complex product in the engineering industry you meet some interesting customers.

The product is complex, as I said, which is why you were led to speak with them today.

Not many others can make the complicated thing, otherwise they would have bought one from someone who wouldn't need to speak with them. I know I would have.

That's the vicious cycle I live in - the thing I work on is too complicated for most people and it makes the output of uncommon people appear subpar. Which in turn makes it seem like everything I make is shit even though, again, the complexity involved means I should be forgiven. Except I am not forgiven because that's not how technology improves.

The complicated thing must be made less complicated or more complicated until it reaches peak simplicity or maximum complexity to meet its goal at a given efficiency. I don't make the rules I just sit on the three legs that define them. Time/Cost/Quality.

I sit in front of a man who, for the first time in his life, has seen the complicated thing and took it apart in his keen hubris to improve the thing I've spend a decade struggling to do poorly.

He has taken apart what we built and has 'questions'

Asking an engineering team 'questions' about a completed product when you're not in it...

Depends on the timescale/relation:

Is it something old and discontinued?

It like old college stories, the mistakes are funny.

Are you just a friend?

Its like gossip.

Did we just release it and sell it to you?

Feels like squirrels in your attic.

Feels like your parents hovering near that thing you hid.

Feels like an intruder in your house.

You did your best but who knows what they will find.

In a live conversation it doesn't matter if you're responsible or not

you have to take the fall and the baton.

These conversations are never fun.

But they are also rarely that useful.

No one knows the complicated thing the first time they take it apart

and I just have to answer scary questions that no one in the room understood.

Until I understand the complicated thing a little bit better.

Butterflies are one thing

Oh honey you don't know

I got a whole swarm in me

Seeing you is something

to work up to.

I don't have your socials

I don't have socials

But if I did

Oof.

I'd be dead.

Cardiac arrest.

The images in my head

already enough damage.

A phone call?

Your voice?

The ambulance bill

would be worth it.

As much as I've

improved writing to you

my heart still loses control

just thinking of you.

What would I do in front of you?

Oh please go easy on me.

The very thought is embarrassing.

I want it so badly.

I thought my body scared you

so I made my body the scared one.

Nervous system trained that

what I want is harm to you.

That pursuing you is

the wrong thing to do.

Without any input from you.

That is my own fault.

Something to work through.

You are not the cause and

it's not about anything you did.

My own psychology

got the best of me.

Blindfolded in a hole

dark and dreary

the jailers beat me

the sound of footsteps

learned fear

Touch

Flinch

Gentle?

Warm?

The blindfold undone

my heart came home.

I can promise you'll never

have a more dedicated

admirer.

Ever.