TheCourtRose

so much more do I crave than the feel of someone's hands is a life of purpose independence, freedom autonomy are an aphrodisiac in my blood so much more than love do I crave fulfillment waking up complete instead of half-tired and unsure so much more do I crave than what I had than what I was given than what I've done and what was done to me so much more did people deserve from me and there was so much more that I should have asked of you more than anything more than a life without love do I fear never fully being myself always wanting so much more is something you never understood in me is a hunger I barely understand in myself

Let's hope when the Zombie Apocalypse hits you're not actually in a wheelchair 'Cause I'm not sure how good a shot you'll be when pushed around the blockaded mall We should have years 'til then Few months, at the very least Time enough to scrub that smoothie from the front seat of your car Even though smelling permanently like pomegranates isn't such a bad thing Almost want to leave the berry stains alone Won't matter anyway when our blood and brains are splattered everywhere Assuming, of course we make it to your car in time Assuming both of us are successfully running from the zombies Assuming you're not in that wheelchair 'Cause at one point in the dream I had to fireman carry you Not sure I'm down with that Let's sit in your car, get some more smoothies and make plans Never hurts to be prepared

Propped up with popsicle sticks and tape from my desk The show must go on (whether or not a Universe ceased to be last night) Broken hearts still beat, labored lungs wheeze and continue their work As should I Tear-puffed eyes labor against sympathetic glances Spare me your pity, fools I walked into this love of my own volition and I walked out the same There are bills still unpaid, plans yet unfinished Wooden sticks and sticky tape cannot heel every hounding thought, cannot shelter the entirety of this storm- So if you really want to help me, hand me a roll of barbed wire and a bucket of pigeon poop I will make of these miserable remnants a Venician citadel (with all due expectation of flooding and raining nights) This fortress need not last forever- just long enough to float me through the mire Eventually I'll let her sink, but for now, she's all I've got

the picture frames are empty now filing away photos to look at again one day but not today heartbeats echo in my chest reverberating against rattling bones there was so much of you inside me too much, probably starving for something that cannot be given only rediscovered in time what to do with an entire day ahead? the repercussion of handing you back your life was getting mine back in return it all feels so hollow empty hallways, empty picture frames, empty heartbeats waiting for the moment when I start to fill in all those lonely places to wake up and know exactly what to do with my day to find I am occupying all my own space without you

a pale, yellow sun is in the sky today double-wrapped scarves and watering eyes squint against the winter light- light clear as crystal and sharp as golden nails forced to look down, bent against the wind noticing large, indented footsteps on the sidewalk passed by so many times and never noticed them before in between the goth/punk clothing stores and the comic shop large steps, too long a stride to be human and on a day such as today when only soft eyelids and noses are peeking out the footsteps could only mean one thing Bigfoot is loose on the frigid streets of the city he is stomping massive feet into the concrete but moving quickly for such a large thing to get out of sight before being seen it was only a matter of time, really before Bigfoot showed up it's snow globe cold out here there's just enough room left for a lonely Sasquatch to press his mits against the glass before the city gets turned upside down with flu...

Early evening ballroom dancing- a compromise between empty nesters and the daughter they never understood Couldn't sit down without a proffered hand "May I have this dance?" Miles away from middle school slow-dancing and wall-flowers, all my protests of ignorance were waved away with "I'll show you how" and so they did First was Vernon and his arthritic arms that wrapped around my waist for a two-step Quick, quick, slow, slow Giggling feet-watching turned into noticing how bright his eyes were, how strong his hands gripped mine Guided and safe, I barely missed a step even when steered backwards with eyes tightly closed Next Lonnie took me for a waltz with several trips, skips and I'm sorry! in between one two three, one two three We stopped, tried again and tried again, again So dizzy I can't remember anything but a blush in his cheeks as we held our frame Finally, for a dance or two, there was a guy so small he came to ...

my hands are bruised pummeling them against a brick wall for years on end will do that my knuckles are scraped and bloody with streaks of dirt and grit on my face from wiping tears away

one moment and a possibility of not waking full of dull, festering aches aching for a world of contentment and, dare I say it? fulfillment filling up the voids in the earth, making whole the holes in the soul it isn't enough (those meat-and-potatoes times) but to desire embellishments- is that not the epitome of selfishness? it is no answer to simply survive but despite all my accouterments and derision all I've done so far is survive with flair

If I kissed you, Sandman my mouth would be full of stars My dreams would be only of you, even though they already are Coughing stardust from my lungs from inhaling galaxies and nightmares Not so sure it would be worth one kiss- not so sure this would be fair You see, I am not free to love you and you are not free to leave My heart is wiser than my lips Maybe we should keep this be I exist in one world- you reside in the other Not so sure where we could cross over in order to be lovers I can fold my arms and watch the night, want to rest my head upon your shoulder But when the dreams call you away again I will be left all the colder A love that never blooms can be painful and unfair But when I close my eyes to sleep, I know that you are there

A question mark where a face should be, like a black-and-white frame with frozen eyes and lips never to speak or smile He dances, and the steps are heavy Before memory there was a father but the table was missing a place Nothing there to hold He dances a confession- an extra chair in the first row He dances The words are dark and the breathing slow, but he dances His steps are torn from the heart of things- a story about an unknown face A turn, a drop of sweat, one more foot placed so assuredly so A knee bent, an elbow turned up With each step, not so heavy anymore All the chairs are filled