Wasteland

I don't write a lot these days because I just get hjhlkjhjh when I do (that isn't a word but I can't think of an adjective to accurately convey the emotion, so). Writing is cathartic, yes. But my blog is public, and I'm afraid I'll write too much. Not that I have a lot of readers, but I've found out lately that I do have a few ghost readers (people who read my blog anonymously). Not that that is a problem. I am grateful that I am not just writing to myself. But, because of the mystery behind who my few readers are, I can't just say anything. And I prefer to just feel nothing about what I want to say. Leave everything unaddressed until I actually have something to do about it. But I am always honest. Because I can always turn around an omit things or delete my post altogether. I'll do what I always do and drape my unbridled, bare thoughts in a figurative cloak. I know a lot of the writing on this blog sucks. It's unrevised. Raw. Streams of consciousness. Anyway. Do I sound like I'm on drugs? I'm not. Maybe I am being too esoteric.

Wasteland

Love is a rope. Dangling and frayed. Fashioned into a waiting noose. Or a lifeline. A fibrous knot. Or pulled taut. And nearly breaking.

You were my crush. Now you're just crushing my heart. And I crush myself. Maybe I was better off. Heart in the gutter, lips near the mic. Making music in the cafe where I was sitting uptight before you, sitting upright. Singing to faces laden with shadows. And the mint tea on your lips. Sugar? the lies. But now I'm the liar. Stirring tears in my eyes. Erase it all. With melody and songs about last fall. But you aren't there to hear.

You're gone soon after you appear. Unspoken words run in rivulets. Down my heart and into a void. Where you and I were in love. In danger of..dying together on that battlefield. Hand in hand. Afghanistan. Left you well. Time will tell.
But snipped the rope
I
f
e
l
l
Knees skirting the dirt in this familiar wasteland
Unheard song, unsung. The end, written on a leaflet wet and went with a maelstrom:
Your tea down the drain.
Walking home alone. Drizzle to hard rain.