Monday, June 4, 2012

Bleeding inside and out




We all bleed for different reasons
White sneakers turned red from too many crooked paths
Sipping coffee in a diner because it’s safer
That going to breakfast elsewhere
Chatter filling the gaps in the unknown
Ring of cash register in the corner
Struggling to figure out what comes next
After the unfinished meal,
What was the intent of all this
Not love or hate,
Something more subtle,
A quick trip in and out,
No regrets?
Banter on the street, connections
Unrealistic belief that walking and talking
Leads to something real,
no quick trip this, no working things out,
just sun light spilling over the ground before and after
like spilled blood left from dull edge of the butter
knife jabbing into us both,
red dripping down inside both as we stroll
along the sidewalk
friendship made, and later lost
working it out with someone else,
life is a kitchen sink filled with soiled details,
bits of our lives following down the drain
worked out in pain and illusion
almost always related to in some distant way
details spilled out in text like blood
should not be telling you this
how much it hurt, stabbing pains
doesn’t mean anything,
except to me,
blood still dripping out of me
with the imprint of my sneaker
leaving me suspicious of every stranger
every smile
every touch of hand
that isn’t mine,
working it all out somewhere else
when I’m not around,
filling the space loneliness leaves,
even bartenders seeming a threat
a business card relationship
that seems more than it is
after a few glasses,
shattered pieces of
wine in my chest
as well as yours,
things always good,
always bad
as long as who knows who
gets to choose
where and when
and how to work it out.
Fleeing out to the dark
Street, staggering with the impact
Hoping to get up the hill
Before the blood flow ends,
My roof too short for a long fall
So I have to settle for the Palisades
Never knowing
How I can work it out
Before I go splat at the bottom
Bleeding inside and out




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