i want to...i want to be someone else or i'll explode...

so the last line...i'm not sure if it should be it's own stanza or attached....advice?

a man (never) said to me:

"the thoughts that ravage my circles
are of televisions and fords,
baseballs and wine glasses.
i've tried to trace their paths,
make new ones with you in the wake.
your curling locks and words of praise
are nothing but keys to unlock my guilt.
and in my spiral, in my accusations,
i have received each glance
from eyes that can never understand
why six years of politics leads
to a waterfall. you see,
it is only this shape. nothing is parallel.
all is connected with strands
of invisible time where memories
are the same as the tramped fibers of my carpet."

and i will always circle back around.

this may never start...i'll tear us apart...can i be your enemy?...

i'm unsure of the line breaks...

the mad ones:

we cling to unfamiliarity.
we are scared of comfort-
of hugs, approval, nodding winks.
we packed it all up the night
we turned ten
and waved goodbye to fate.

you and me, we created out tracks.
we laid our seeds.
they called us.
we didn't hear, no.
we were too lost in our past.
they warned us,
but we were mad with circles.
we crossed the dotted lines
and slept unevenly.

me and you, we clamored
like those tin cans
our grandfathers tempted us with.
we sped past them
until they forgot
where i ended and you began.
i believe we passed with the dinosaurs.
either way, we clung.

i just want you to hold me, though i know we'll leave here lonely...'cause in the end, it's meant to be that way...

mason jars and raspberry jam:

i remember that summer
like raspberry jam.
i smeared its echoes across my lips
and stained your cheek
with whatever blush seemed fitting.

but then i tired of the artificial
and scrubbed my hands raw.
clinginess was the word
that glues my eylashes
like cheap mascara.

i trapped it all like an ant
in a mason jar
that was as transparent as your secrets.
i'll watch you scurry now
and scream like a candied god.

so far away...come on, i'll take you far away...

so this isn't one of my favorite pieces at the moment. but i love the tone and believe it has potential and will most likely edit it into a personal masterpiece eventually.

buddha:

i once gave you a buddha statue.
it fit in the palm of my hand
and was smooth and glimmered copper.
i never quite understood
why you cared so much for a religion
that was nothing of yourself.
but, i loved you and any irony
that fell from your lips.
i can never rub a belly
and get all the wishes i need,
you call it only child syndrome.
i call you a hypocrite.

she swears the moon don't hang quite as high as it used to...

i found something a few minutes ago in our computer room that has me baffled. completely. first, here is the poem.

buttons and baggage:

the sun burned blue
as eyeliner slathered on rocks
and fallen branches
holding themselves with bare extensions.
it was the secret
between myself and you
that turned the rain to daisies
as you whispered,
"she loves me not."
and navy turned to yellow
and whispers turned to poetry
and my heart turned to satin
and i dared you to touch.

so here is why i'm confused. this is vague, but i feel i wrote it about pat and the first night spent camping. it just makes sense. but it is dated may 6 and i didn't think the date lined up. so maybe it is dated wrong? i don't know. or it is about someone else...which does not seem true. and the title baffles me because i recall it meaning something to me at the time. i'm not sure what. but i'm confused. because it has to be about him, but i'm confused with dates and now i'm thinking about something ludacris. ramble ramble ramble.