mundane

I was maybe too successful with "no art poem". The lack of art is way too evident to me.
Anyhow,  here are the two I mentioned last time. I'm intrigued by the fact that even with a piece this wordy, I still chose to work with four line stanzas. Comfort?

"dream song"

the blood that is your body gets colder as i struggle into sleep
i forget about the slowing of your breathing as i search for a place that you can't follow
a cough, a last wink, and the shadows fade from my eyes
your black hair is the last thing i remember, but i don't feel safe

i've withstood everything to get to the place where i'm standing
it's the world but it's not the world
in this phantom place, my fears lapse into reason
i lean against a wall, things are building inside my head

is there anything worth watching here?
this is why i don't like wandering away from my stories
my fingers suffer from a lack of upheaval
feral religions can get at my meat if i'm not careful

it's always the night that drags me out of hiding
whether it's in dreaming, or the wider world, where i kick stones at captured vehicles
i ingest the residue of the seasons
beautiful is a thing easily discovered, triumphing in it's success at not being undone

my artistic muscles stretch as the wind saunters in through my window
it's obvious where i'll return to upon awakening
away from obscure punches by foreign law
free again in domestic oblivion, and it's attendant horrors



"mundane poem"

when you find someone who amuses you
for longer than it takes to fuck them
or for the chemicals to wear off
you might want to keep them around

it's inevitable that things will get less entertaining
this is why i like to light things on fire
and why i spend my time with violent or insane women
i like people whose actions i can never predict

i conduct my life like a therapy session
looking for reason and answers in the most mundane
even when i ignore the obvious and dip into tragic
there is something worth digging out in every spirit

don't let me discover what makes you tick
i might discard you like so much used tissue
i catch a glint of sunlight off your yawn
i'm there, recording and deliberating, but for how long?