Renouncing “Philosophy”

I’ve longed to fuck the image I’ve had of you in my head,

but the reality keeps threatening the illusion.

It’s a semi-lust:

tempered  by facts & raging against endorphins,

ultimately resulting in a stalemate of

desire.

I’ve undressed you endlessly,

envisioned the very act of commencement—

only to falter as the dream continually dissolves…

you’re a specter of romanticized ideals & jaded innocence.

The legs I’ve so ardently sought entry to

are pillars of weakness—a mocking totem—

to the wantonness of youth.

I’ve courted folly and called it love;

slept with hope and supped on disillusion.

The farce won out—

only to blur again to pandering

remembrance.

What was it but an exercise in desire?

One built on repetitions,

but ultimately plateauing.

The lure was in the blindness

—the willing ignorance—

bolstered by promises of infinity.

I’ve scoured you from memory,

reduced smells to lunacy & landmarks to heresy

Yet

the wayward sight of you still causes dissonance—

a dirge amongst masochistic heartstrings .

The heart, a fickle satellite all its own,

waxes & wanes to the tides of our emotions.

Cusps Looming & Tepid

There are moments in life that define us:

the stomach-retching nervosa

all consuming;

the jitters impeding breathe,

quickening  pulse,

inducing wave upon wave

of frantic, insidious

heat.

It’s not the process that fuels this,

it’s the prospect of results:

the garden path built upon dreams—

this moment,

the potential first stone.

But if all goes to hell

and the deck roils beneath,

then the taste of such hope

is what we must keep.

Quarter-life Poultice

Wits have vanished,

along with looks;

a ruinous shell

bereft of roots.

A visage of apathy,

an incendiary crown;

hold dear the memory

‘till salvation is found.

Temper the fear

with a tincture of truth;

the reaping awaits,

may hope blossom anew.