Marbleyes

I am at my wits end.  All of this has got to come to some kind of conclusion.  I don’t even know if it will help, but every day I don’t sleep is one more that I regret.  So much regret pilled upon the sleeping agony is just going to awake a more disturbing, disgusting being than anything I have been able to describe thus far.  I am sick of it.  It’s making me sick.  It feels like something has to be destroyed in order for the beauty we all once shone to come back to us again.  It just feels like something has to break.

but
I’m probably the only one feeling the tension.  In which case, I’m the one whose going to have to shatter.

I’ve read so many letters
that tell me I’ve got no clue
how do gray skies become blue?
can I draw a pastel night
paint a constellation right there
in plain sight?
Could we compare the epic feeling
to clawing the thin ice?
One of these days
It’s going to be true
I’m going to cut right through
explode into a billion tiny pieces
bend backward against all the creases
show you it’s not so blue
and when the sky becomes blood
you’ll see me come crashing down around you
so many parts of this puzzle
the jagged edges of truth
are going to stab right through.

Six months worth of advice could be summed up into a footnote with only one phrase.  That text is what I want engraved on my tombstone, my epitaph.  It would be my final bow to the power of the creative womb that we all find ourselves yearning for when we’re feeling so poor.  But I would like to be buried facing west, so that if I’m dead when the final sun sets, perhaps I could have a view.  I’m sure it would be beautiful.

I believe god
oddly enough, in love
and doves of beasts
as beautiful releases.
But adorn the sky
the color of lust
red on black
I saw jesus.
Leaves us behind
instead, loves some kind..
of monster that’s craving,
starving for flowers
to devour.
So confusing
I could care
but it’s so much less.
All I want
singing soft lullaby’s
so I can rest
to dream of it all
in jest.

It’s just hard for me to see.  Someone should tell me.  Maybe it’s not so difficult, maybe I’m just being ridiculous.  But for ever contradiction, there’s a man waiting in an unemployment line.  A boy outside an office waiting for his mother.  A nervous teenage girl driving to the doctor.  A middle aged woman declining slowly into insanity, and a father hiding from his ghosts.  Karma has us all by the throat.

I don’t know.