there was one reason once
to dress that way:
to court a man –
to cultivate our gaze
unless we were shut out in a regalian haze.
or poor. then our cousins would do.
maybe that went for royalty, too?
now there are two:
always with my head in the clouds
thinking out loud
at work and on the couch.
sometimes i cry
but it’s only fleeting
when i remember in whose bed i’m sleeping.
even though the sheets are Gluckstein Gode,
the floor still feels good after i’ve shot my load –
every day, waiting to explode
then collapse into dark of the shared abode.
i can’t even watch Married With Children anymore.
good sleep, good rest, good rem
waking up
wipe the crust from my eyes
hard as stone no surprise
no expectations
trying to move forward with no expectations
girl here, girl there,
girlfriend everywhere
watching, thinking, sinking
i swear im done
no one but you
no expectations
trying to love you with no expectations
no expectations, no regrets
nothing to lose when you’ve gained it all
a roof, a kiss, a full plate
no expectations and no regrets
//jf 8.21.2021
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
i don’t care who,
just save me.
free me from my life –
this drab spark that’s died
little by little over the time i’ve been alive…
i’m calling out from the bottom of the hole
that i’ve dug out for myself to keep me enclosed –
away from people and places exposed –
but now i don’t have anywhere left to go
but to dig myself further into this wretched barrow.
help.
…
help!
help me!
it’s too hot!
can anybody hear me?
if you can, shout back!
throw me a rope!
i’ll take you aflight to encourage the hope
you brought
to this Hell i’ve wrought.
hurry –
before i turn to rot.
//jf 8.11.2021
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
we sat side-by-side the other day –
so close and yet so far away,
and i could see the sunlight reflected off your steely-blue eyes
as i wondered if you even knew i drew breath.
so many sleepless nights, drained but restless
wishing i had your body against mine –
because i believed you alone could soothe me,
mitigate me,
love me and my touch
this time.
but i’ve been wrong before.
so like a thief i’ve stolen what i could
to fuel a fantasy that would.
your face, your look –
the freckles that dot like weathered wood.
placing you in-phase with others who came before,
dreaming that maybe i could enjoy those times more.
your life continues
and mine stands ignored.
i have to move on. i do.
theory of a daskeman 