The World at Midnight

Just a little word

before you walk away again

and leave me here

with only the walls to talk to

as I bleed myself dry

onto these metaphorical pages

like shouting into a vacuum

no one’s really listening

reaching out so desperately

for acknowledgement and connection

but the lines are down

no one’s at the other end

to give a damn

everyone has a life to lead

and maybe if we led them

a little more together

no one would have to feel alone

adriift in a sea of endless isolation

but here I am

tilting at the windmills again

just call me Don Quixote

and let me argue with these four walls

maybe the drywall will understand

as this time

instead of grasping

at the last shreds of sanity

I let it and them just slip away

and fall into the breakdown

maybe there will be someone there

to catch me as I fall apart…

Why do the words

“I’m wrong” and “I’m sorry”

weigh so heavy o

n the tongues of so many?

As if the mere admittance of failure

might tear a person’s soul asunder

or leave them empty

with nothing to hold onto

Speaking from experience

we are human and we err

probably far more often

than even the most humble

would feel comfortable admitting

Remember the old sayings

about erring and forgiving

the truth in those words we were passed down

and maybe we might find ourselves

lighter on our paths

if we let the words pass from our lips

Let them take away the burdens

of our darker moments

all that we should cling to

are the lessons learned in making,

not the mistakes themselves

I think I failed us both that day

I couldn’t give you what you asked

and sent us down the seperate roads

we’ve traveled ever since

All this rocky ground we’ve covered

I could’ve helped us both avoid

or at the very least provided

a little bit of guidance

had I had the foresight of

the consequences of my choices

It’s far too late to turn back now

no rewinding to that moment

but if I might provide the helping

hand you need to carry through

an offering to offset the trouble

we set in motion

with my words so long ago

Let’s cast aside all pretense here

I’m first in line to admit fault

and this one is a doozy of

the highest order and import

I lose myself to imagination

phantom possibilities

I chase with such veracity

all to crash and burn again

throw myself into the fire

attempting to smother flames

we surely could just walk around

self-sacrifice so far beyond

any explanation

either reasonable or otherwise

I play the role of martyr even

in the acts where none is needed

and never seem to understrand

why the scars of my stupidity

can never heal or disappear

I bleed myself repeatedly

for nothing more than easy vision

of the dark red footsteps as

the other person turns away

what else would a sane person do

when someone cuts in front of them

with no other purpose than

to fall right at their feet?

Soaked in sanguine self-importance

lying about all the reasons

slowing dying in the embers

of emotions only I will ever know

the pointless, empty, broken victim

of my own incompetence

All that I wish to say and do and be,

that sense of accomplishment and proper pride

in what I give and represent,

all that I reach for and strive to live up to

lies out there somewhere waiting,

but instead I sit here looking for the answers

in places I’ve long since emptied out

and meant to move on, grow, and learn from.

Stuck in someplace soft and warm and easy,

free from the conflict that comes with trying

to become what I know I should.

The weight of that accomplishment

(or lack thereof, to be specific)

keeps me rooted here

where I’ve long since worn holes in the floor,

pacing in my own captivity,

yearning for a freedom only I can grant myself

if I could just find the motivation

to take that first long step

and face the sure adversity that waits to shape and forge anew

those dreams I claim to hold,

long since set aside

for the sake of the known and familiar.

Sometimes I wonder what it is

I saw in those forgotten days.

What beauty was that caught my eye,

bewitched as I must have been.

The beauty fades in the reflection,

the image seems so different now.

No longer in the heart of such

illusion that once captivated.

Oh, to be able to glance upon

what passed before me as it was

when wrapped so tight

in shades of what awaited me,

that which disappeared so soon,

lost in the moment’s passing

and the vision cleared so soon.

Anyone else remember when

everything felt like it mattered?

It all was so important, so urgent,

so full of meaning and emotion

Each day, each moment was something worth experiencing,

all roads leading to something bright and beautiful.

What happened, then?

When did the clouds roll in forever?

Why did it all just fade away?

Where do these twists and turns carry us

if not into the bright beyond?

Where did sensation leave us

so dull and grey and empty?

We tried to seize the day so hard

we squeezed out all we could,

and here we are caught up in nothing

but vapid, wasted dreams

of the void we stumbled into

I’ve almost fogotten what it feels like to care

all the effort and energy it takes to accomplish nothing

but shattered dreams and broken hearts

that deflating sense of abject failure creeping up on you

even when the signs are such to see it coming from miles away s

tripping you of everything you put into something new

and leaving you for dead

right where you started to claw your way out of

so why bother?

Let that self-destructive desire to try again just pass you by

and learn to enjoy that hole you fell into

when you succumbed the last time

I fall at a moment’s notice

and when I fall, I fall forever.

Never does any day pass

that I’m not at risk

of captivity to some stray memory.

Reminders of the places

and flashes of the faces

that meant something

sometime, somewhere,

drift in and out of my awareness.

I sit in awe

(and some slight fear)

of just how deep the ties can be

through all this time and distance,

no matter what has come before or between,

no matter the strength of whatever

may have come to break the bonds between,

they will seemingly always remain.

Thin and frail though they may be,

their tendrils reach into my soul

to tug at heartstrings

with fleeting, feeble flashes

of what was and might have been.

And though I regret little,

I can’t help but wonder

when these moments

and memories cross my mind

about what might be happening now,

so far further down these roads…

Looking back on simpler moments,

people and places once held highly

that matter so little now

Changes and choices amid the chaos

bear no nostalgic filters

just memories of times before

believed to be so difficult

yet easier than those we’d find further down

the paths our lives would lead

Now we reflect not in reverence

or deference to what came previous

but in awe and mourning of

the folly we were facing

in ever thinking things would hinge

so precariously on foundations built

entirely of that which we didn’t understand