on existence

I keep writing of dreams
of loves lost found again only in slumber
I poeticize the hell out of
unattainable
unrecognizable
subconscious renderings.

Except it’s not totally
unrecognizable
I see shapes and sounds that are vaguely familiar
they resemble my waking life
in a painfully sharp way
leaving me longing for pasts unreachable.

Waking up sobbing
chest heaving
body trembling
somehow louder in the calm darkness
I curse myself both for sleeping and for waking.

This beautiful torture
this full surrender
I long to live in memories
and yet when I am awake
I grasp at anything to stay alive.

Confused
is a state I spend a lot of time in
like my desires are water in which
I sometimes swim and sometimes drown
oh to be so luxuriously troubled.

To lament and languish
in ones own mind
for what purpose
what greater good does this serve
if I’m here should I not focus on the now?

Yet there is a piece of me that remains rooted firmly in the past
unable to let go
gripping tightly
like I am about to fall off the side of a cliff
refusing to grant rest to my weary heart
and so I do this dance.

I grow weary
and I remain lost
stumbling around in a haze
sometimes shockingly present
often times gone somewhere…..

Toiling away
wasting precious ephemerality
believing both the transient
and the permanent
existing and all at once
disappearing.