Then and now

The tongue I’m biting on

is the tongue that doesn’t quit.

And in all the old records

wish I’d used my teeth sooner.

But I don’t know the state you’re in.

Washington?

Porcelain?

I’ll wait and see.

–

Smooth skin I was writing on,

write fast, memory goes quick.

According to old records,

insight lost the fight for

I fell into a state of mind.

Borderline

cognizant

–

that I could even talk at all.

Communication’s just a thing

I didn’t have. I didn’t call.

Now it’s old and splintering.

–

The hands for writing on

are hands of a finer grit.

And in all the old records

my hands foretold the future

that I cannot see that face again.

Face of sin.

Inky skin.

A poor medium.

–

And instead I sang some psalm.

Then laid the shit on thick.

And I didn’t win awards.

I know I lost our fight for

connection of an honest kind.

A mastermind

disinclined

–

to even talk at all.

Communication’s just a thing

I do not have. I don’t recall

having said anything.

Tags: poem, Poems, Poetry, reflection, Reflections, writing