I guess I should have a reason…
I wrote Knowing You for no reason whatsoever.
KNOWING YOU
Knowing you
is like looking westward
for the sun to rise
only to embarrassingly realize
that it’s 5 p.m. and not
5 a.m.
like I had once thought
and truly believed.
© 2010 by Feral Child
I once owned a brown blanket with Goodwill stamped on it…
I wrote 75 Months Later after discovering someone again…..wait for it…..75 months after we parted ways. It was a pretty pathetic way to express my utterly pathetic feelings about someone who gave so much only to receive so little from me.
75 MONTHS LATER
It was the inside of midnight that thought of you the most.
…through cobwebs of our past life,
…under brushes of lost hopes forgotten,
you somehow managed to make it to me.
Some sort of ghost from Faraway skilled in translucency.
The morning somehow remembered your voice
and felt the warmth of your breath
covering me like a Goodwill blanket in my most confusing time.
I sadly only know where I should be
when only playing make-believe.
The evening imagined the scent of your hair.
How it must have lingered in the air
waiting for the perfect moment to remind me
that you were once around.
Your voice now, of course, silent sound.
The night never forgot to find guilt as it should.
It even knew that the thought of your touch
would melt away all my rational reason.
Leaving me spent upon sheets that were wet.
Needing a moment to catch my breath.
…and eventually midnight thought about you again
while never forgiving me
for this endless cycle
I’m putting it
through.
© 2009 by Feral Child
I took a picture of Timothy’s wood sketched signature years later…
This is my poetry blog.
I’m doing this to realize who I am or maybe who I was. I’ve lost sight of a lot of things these past few years. I hope to learn how to see those things again.
I wrote In Mood Cupfuls while in college. I had just spent Halloween alone for the first time in my life and I had no one to call. I was just realizing how much alone we all actually are in the world. The feeling was strange for me. I’ve come to enjoy it.
Timothy was my first flirtation with apocalyptic themes. I love the thought of zombies and deserted cities.
I don’t remember writing On Immortality but I know I did. Yes, the last sentence is very cliche but damnit, it works for me.
The three poems seem to belong together not only due to their length but also because of the way they feel…
A FESTIVAL OF SECONDS
IN MOOD CUPFULS
The hot chocolate decides to burn my throat
as my eyes look to the mantle to see
spaces strange filled all about me
with empty cubicles echoing that,
“without you here so little is hope.”
“Without you here so little is hope.”
Then the hot chocolate remembers and again burns my throat…
/TI’-ME-THE/
timothy was here
i can feel his presence
no form but black dust now stands
timothy i fear
you’ve taught us a lesson
god gives rewards for the stupidity of man
ON IMMORTALITY
A very precarious situation.
A stick swept away by the tide.
I cry for a second
but except no fold
for I know even Evergreens must die.
© 2009 by Feral Child
