Jejune

Trivial, I am
human as the lonesome
traveler, right on the
edge of town.
Loop it through
something strong.
Dead, it seems
my heart. Molding
spots of discoloration.
Lonesome as ever,
surrounded by miracles.
Flamboyant, I am
on fire until the ash
consumes me, mold
and all.
Sickly, it seems
just to dismantle
the rusty chains
that hold
what was
this heart.
Silly, I am
bumbling through the
world with only
letters and keys.
Bouncing into
trivial things.
Bombarding hidden
minds like tombs
unhinged past the hour.
This muscle
so ugly,
can no longer feel.
It just wastes away
like crumbling lead
chalky stems that
turn crisp in the light.
Fanatic, I am
moving from one place
to another, can’t
seem to place
wishing for some kind of love
to whisk me away.
Open, somehow,
my chest breathes
out smoke and
inhales fire.
Not orange or red,
but blue as a robin’s
egg, blue as plaid PJs.
Plausible, I am
proactive, I am not.
But when my will
comes begging,
where will it reach me?
where will I go?
will anybody see
this moldy heart blow?
Fickle, I am
so picky I
stumble over these vast
limitations with
laziness mixed in.
It’s been a while
since I’ve missed
slumber, but I’m as
bright and cold as ever.
Invalid, I am
sinking into the water
as it warms under
my freezing touch.
Am I still made of
moon particles and dust?
The wrinkled page
tells plenty
while the sofa sits
in its plastic chamber.
A cover covers its fuzzy
soft exterior, sealing
in its fury.
From where does the
knife come from?
Glittering, poised
and ready to slice
that plastic cover
away to reveal
the sensual velvet

underneath.
Feel its slippery silky
hide and rest
on its voluptuous
deep maroon cushions.
Spacious, I am
in my surroundings.
Silver I reek
and red, I devour.
Fingernails toughen
as I bend them
by my own ferocious teeth.
Well-worn pages
speak the truth
as I sleuth
for answers.
Playful, I am
delirious, insane and
off the deep end, I
swim in impossible dreams
waiting to wake
for the future’s closer
than it seems.