Author: andyveilleux

Reality or something like it

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The ceiling does not change under
The pressures of human time,
The hours do nothing to make the dull exciting,
Or to change this feeling into something real.

Reality starts to bend under the monotony
And I suddenly begin to see the fabrics of it all
And where they have all been layered
But never properly stitched together.

Or maybe I see patterns where none exist,
A guilty pass time for a trained mind
Always forced to quantify the unexplainable
For money or for grades.

It doesn’t have to be true,
It just has to sound true.

Love for this midnight owl

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Smoke drifts through
A corner of a mirror,
And you were less than a fifth century
And I beyond my fourth.

Youth is shamed by the
Unyoung,
Those who once had it
And now mourn it,
But never by those who don’t miss it.

Youth was beauty
Youth was hope,
But age can still be so.

I stir awake for you,
A slumbering once-nocturnal beast,
Now, maybe, a midnight owl,
No longer with the claws of dawn,
But not far removed from that.

I shake awake for you,
I am something wanted and on
Cold
Hard
Nights
I am all that is.

memories and my circus

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The days stopped melting when weeks became a blur and

there was something lucid about this long dream I

could not place my finger on,

or any other useful appendage.

 

My brain tried to wrap around it all,

warped,

and became a circle of infinity,

forever repeating a forgotten memory

so old it had become snowed out like so many

old VHS movies.

 

I could sit and stare at the screens for hours,

and the message or medium never changes.

 

My life as a circus show

minus a few bears riding unicycles,

and a strong woman.

An almost-real reunion

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I saw you and I felt your face
Your curves
Your life,
Just in front of me.

You smiled at me,
A smile I had almost forgotten,
And the past melted.

I forgot the fights,
The hatred
And the ending,
Left only with the good times.

We said we were sorry and
We were playful, composed and in love.

You were never more you than these moments,
And then I woke up.

Heart in a castle

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Light shines through the cracks in my glorified castle,
The place where I’ve built up defenses against love
In an attempt to keep my heart safe once more.

There is no describing the fortress we erect to save ourselves,
And the architecture is always flawed and impotent.

Love always finds a way.

It might not be good love or the mythical ‘true’ love,
But something always sneaks into my heart,
Whether it scales the walls or swims the most.

Love isn’t clean, or just or pure,
But nothing worth having is.

A starving fire

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Fire was and is you,
But maybe less so now.

As if awkward sentences could ever
Capture anything about you,
The flame dances away from the cage
Or goes out when walled in.

You were a free spirit,
Dancing in too much oxygen
Until your appetite saw you too fed
And there was no stopping your newfound hunger.

Now you live as a pilot fire,
Carving out a meagre existence on scraps of air,
Waiting for the day you can be everything again.

Or maybe you had your chances and this is what you are now,
Tiny,
Struggling,
Afraid.

I would have ended you rather than see you so weak and powerless,
If only I would have known it would come to pass.

Sleep and the struggle

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I remember the enemy,
Even though its been many months.

There was no counting sheep
Or melatonin solution strong enough
To push aside this demon.

I had forgotten the late nights packed full of
Nothing.

The return felt like a well-worn glove,
Warm, and snug as it stretched onto smooth hands,
Never worse for wear despite missing sleep.

How did I best you before and
How can I defeat you now?

Time tells all stories,
Even when it slows to its post-midnight crawl.

Wide-eyed and finished I
Await another long dawn.

Heavy heart and lust

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I lied when I said forever,

although I meant it at the Time,

and every Time I said it.

I could not have meant it more,

and the leaves feel and died

and so did we, baby,

and we had no chance.

A voracious appetite for sex

and never-ending lust for the new

led us to new, but no greener, pastures,

if anything we constantly downgraded.

We dragged along our crosses,

totems to one another’s failures

that we were unwilling to help solve,

and instead decorated the walls with.

I remember your totems and idols and

somewhere along the way the love became sadness

but never regret or a Third Chance.

I’m not even sure I gave you any chances,

or if I gave you too many of them,

because it all blends together in a big mess

of hatred, deceit and misery.

There were good times,

oh, so many good times,

and the cheap smiles we would pay fortunes for now,

had all deserted us, unwilling to be bought.

You were brown, and blonde and red,

but I missed that one,

and I don’t miss you.