Self diagnosed insanity wont stand up in court

I thought your voice had left me
for good
Silent though it's been

And my heart jumped
like an Olympic athlete
right into my trachea

I don't know why
It wouldn't change a damn thing

It would just be change

Something i'm surprised to be frightened of
when really it's all I'm looking for these days

And what's that called?
A longing for stasis and dynamism
simultaneously

Insanity
I'm insane
Self diagnosed thank you very much

I thought I missed your voice
but my heart
jumped out completely a while ago

I think I miss it more

You don't have to remember me

It's okay
You don't have to remember me
When the sun beams come through your window
and in bed
you press play
to a song that pours
into your memory vat
all the things you've forgotten

I don't have to be one of them
it's okay, really
I've been forgotten before

There are people I haven't met yet
who will lose my name and face
in the crowd of life
so it's okay if you do too

I wouldn't hold the future accountable
So,
why treat the past any different?

Someday i'll be thrown against a wall
and someday
I'll stick

The faces in the background

What is understanding
closeness, community, caring?
Is it measured
in hugs
in kisses
I have few of these

Or comments, hits, views
messages,
higher numbers, more characters
more
I staked my life on less

What is real emotion anymore
and what does the dust on the ground
have to say
about being wiped away?

Dirt, grime, untouched, unmentioned
unloved
un-un
prefixes and negative tenses
these are my company

Downtrodden

Real

The dark faces in the background
out-of-focus
they are no less captured than
center lens subjects

So why do they mean so little?

I'd die to be a word writ by else

Write about me
Say from your blossomed depths
my name as bursts of color within

Let your mind be a catch-all
senses filled to brim
all the time

Let me know you in your words
and read me in mine

Write about me
converse your heart
trade notations in mind and soul
and beyond

I've written nearly everybody met
Sensations and brushes
Silence and loud
everything always
everybody

Ulterior motive
I'd not deny to desire selfsame

Words, they fall like stars

Where are the words
where are my words
ideas,
and thoughts
that come to me at a table by myself
in the food court of the Westfield mall

Where is my ability
i've found inability

Squeezing blood from a turnip
used to seem like a possibility
now I'm mute
and without these frail poems
i'd be crippled too

Every day is a battle that everyone is fighting
right now, mine is with the keyboard
mine is with my plans
Mine is with the words which fall into white space
so lazily

Where is the life in my words?
Gone, with so many other things
Gone, like my pastel set and drawing pads

Gone
My desire is not
but perhaps my inspriation is

So where are the words
that are ghosts on this page
that are dates and titles of the past
Everything i've already written is not a diary
but a cemetary

In vain I wait for the meteor shower tomorrow
cosmic events are not even half as spectral
by myself

And love and memory too

You can't be in love
with the past
because love can never lie
and the past
can't help it

Memory is a waterfall
cascading and majestic
missing the point always;
Clear and clean as it tumbles downward
pooling into dark water
you can never see through the bottom

The past is
a shadow
An outline of self
which was once
but now sways by breeze
of illumination
stretched and warped
by the source for which it exists
so very gray
compared to what it
mimics

And the two cannot come together again
not through tears
or quiet moments asking why
or the sickness, "what if?"

Water, once spilt over the edge
will never return

and love and memory too

Fingers in striped wool gloves look warmer when it's cold

It's freezing
don't you want to go inside
with the rest of the party?

Wine in semi clear plastic cup
he's fading fast
Does anybody want a beer?
i'm getting one
sure
no, i'm good

"I think guy's hair is so beautiful
and they don't even do anything to it"
she said.

It's endearing when girls say things like that
like there is a part of them
that's deeply in love with the male form

And not just the
Buff, hot, muscular arms
And all the other insincere desires
which can only amount to empty lusts

And people wonder why they fall out of love so quickly

She has little red dots on her face
from Girl Talk
And they look like ruby jewels
embezzled on a crystal face
telling me it's time to go now

A step, a step
the ground
the sidewalk
my car
the Glendale Freeway

Lamenting the long drive home
not because I think 30 minutes is forever
but because i'd rather the distance
wasn't so great

Dinosauria, Me

I've decided not to pollute this old blog with my short stories any longer.

From now on Speaking Without Audience is strictly poetry. All of my new short stories will be on my new blog called Dinosauria, Me. Right here http://dinosauriame.wordpress.com/. Hopefully the 2 or 3 of you who have ever read something of mine will check it out.

I will also put my new blog in the links of this page for future reference. ENJOY! :0)

The half-mast drunk eyes

No more deja vu
Circular occurrence
is the worst kind of death

I looked into the eyes of my friends
and knew
we weren't anymore

A sad revelation