No Pretense Whatsoever

The things I should have said a long time ago.

 

   I'm balancing what I cannot explain, and I feel as though my whole

 everything is at stake.

   I've got a fear of phobias. It's a terrible situation where I've got

 to fake like make believe pretend to friends that this thick skin

 isn't paper-thin.

   In conversation, I'm a one-man nation, an independent state of

 affairs all in order; suffering no fools. Behind backs it's scraped-knee

 feelings and boo-boo desperation. And both are true.

   I think I've imagined myself. Brainwave building blocks to make me

 matter getting scattered with every call that isn't coming. I've got

 pieces spread all over. Paradise peninsula bays to heartland plains and

 could care less parts in between. 

   The universe is laughing. I had it all, the brains, the brawn, with

 a flaw or two just for fun between the lines laughing stock and the

 only one who doesn't get it. I do, you know. I just don't find it funny.

   My private planes crash like smiles. For miles and miles and...

   I'm a face to face formidable force; and so susceptible to out of

 sight, out of losing my f*****g mind containing this cage. It's all

 conversation snatches and 3...2...1...nothing. A constant countdown with no

 contact coming, leaving me longing for ANYTHING but this.

   I'm a savior, a sucker, a stepping-stone, and a christ-like mess

 fighting a fight inside trying to decide something simple. How to perform

 open-heart let it go in three easy steps. Regrets.

   And I never want to dig you out of me. Little voice, tiny judge,

 hold me true. I'm tip-toe toppling and tumbling, stumbling from step to

 step but thank gods I know where I'm headed.

   Dichotomy is a part of me. Before it all, before the fall, before

 bloodline battles, promises, prophecies, sadducees and salvation, there

 were little boy smiles that still reside inside. Soft spots, tear drops,

 and I'm finally saying what wanted to be said. 

   I've wanted to hate you, but not really. All I hate is what wants to

 hurt hearth and home. You're ate up convicted and convinced I'm bent

 and broken into pound the wall shake your head disappointed sighs. But

 for the instinct, you may have missed the eyes, the sad goodbyes, the I

 STILL love you cries. 

   I've made fun of fools before, but I feel them. I've been the cool

 calm conceited and if laughing behind backs dude don't you get it give

 up is all it is I can take it. There's lots of scars to prove that true.

   You know I've got not a lot, but my one thing is my word, and I gave

 it. Those Valhalla voices won't forget. I'll make it mean something.

 But it's no stiff-backed breach of contract that holds me. It's the way

 you fit the shape that molds me. Roll your eyes, but you'll see.

   The people make the steeple. And sometimes instinct and indifference

 are just defenses.

 

Reviews

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

Two years since you wrote this.. I do understand every word of this now .. hope you come back.. you are a good friend and fine poet.

Chloe

[Bubo]

I do miss you my friend................come soon!

[Fantasyfairy]

It makes us human these fears and phobias. You have done a great job making us see that. XX

[Nicole (Carpe Diem)]

we all have phobias we all have fears... its what makes us human...

great write