Sometimes only little pieces
Of me make it through
The night, everything else
Lost between what flashes
Of the dreams I can forget
And what in reality I’ve wished
For although never really wanted.
And in a moment only
Half encountered, sinuous
Like words across horizon
Colored struggles, there’s
Irresolution for the sake of
Dagger lights just like the
Morning throws to cleave itself
From from hours of indiscretion.

Just silly little pieces brushed
Reflection’s only shade of blue-cold
Burden, and if it’s ever up to me
They’d all be scattered to the breath
Of all those prayers we couldn’t
Speak because unspeakable.

So I wake broken like realities,
Broken like the language is
That tells me when it’s morning
And I ought to.
Ought to what?
Ought to pick up where
I left off hoping purpose had
It’s way with me just like
They always said it should?

If I gave purpose to these splinters
They would stab me,
And we’d both be plank-eyed,
Pointing at each other
One half blind and one half
Optimist, and maybe that’s
The reason that I’m praying
On my knees tonight–for
You to stop watching
So I can finally pick the peices up.

#Cougar #Washington

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s