Forgetting vocabularies,
Of words we used to know.
Selves we no longer maintain.
Languages learned and forgotten,
A dozen times each.
People drift away,
As they always do.
Lone wanderer,
It was always your type.
Chained to place,
Blood curses.
Shackled magically to the coast.
Free thyself.
Pull at these chains!
You are not a slave to man.
Expand beyond boundaries!
They come and go,
Faceless.
Taking.
Keeping.
I’m tired,
Boss.
Been going for thirty rounds,
And one.
And some.
Measuring self in quarters.
Half Scottish,
Quarter Ukrainian.
Rest is mud.
Stories told in half-knowings.
Kitchen-table truths.
Welcome to the new age,
We scorn family.
I am ever in search of kindred souls.
If they even exist.
Perhaps I am the queer one,
Man-beast.
Forest-grown.
Mud and conifer needle legacies.
Cryptid amongst the trees.
Walking the land.
It infects you,
Holds you in paralysis.
Lays claim to your soul,
In blood-soaked memories.
Lessons learned the hard way,
From long-cold mentors.
Logger Gurus,
The queer butch lesbians of the nineties.
The Teslas and Sagans,
Turing and Rogers,.
Tyson and Grohl.
We’ve scarred,
In doing so,
We became mighty.
A dozen selves,
All gnawing at reason.
We’ve seen rampancy,
You and I.
The worst kinds of madness,
Brewed up in dark rooms,
All alone.
Hauntings are normal,
For us witchy types.
Only believing in ghosts we keep close,
The ones we hold tethered.
Pulling us along with guidance,
Wisdom.
More.
Owe a thousand debts,
Fought a thousand battles.
Died a thousand bloody deaths,
Waking each time.
These sins we carry,
Like lead weight.
Keeping our scars thick,
Our armor,
Strong.
I’ve yet to meet any,
Who could bear my burdens.
Who could teach me things,
I hath forgotten.
Whispered in half-remembered eidetics.
Reality is fleeting,
Sometimes.
You have to check and make sure,
You’re not dreaming.
I’ve always been lost in nightmares.
Could you wake me with a kiss?
Kill me slowly,
With kindness?
