The door closes softly— I closed it
It’s an odd lock, was it two turns or three?
I pull the handle, I have to be sure
She’s taking the elevator down— I’ll sleep alone
Out on the balcony, I wait to watch her walk out of sight
She waves and even from this far away I know she doesn’t want to leave
but part of me has been waiting for a lonely night
I need to do this alone
It’s been sitting, waiting for me
I’m not sure any of this is necessary
but I wrote the ending
I have to play it out
I pull the headphones up under my shirt, insert the jack
and my thumb slides around the circle
All the way to the letter T
because you see,
I smoked my first while listening
and there’s poetry in life
Sometimes it has to be made
Other times it’s a free-flowing river
The wheel of the lighter flicks the flame alive
It sounds like thunder
but not terror, no it’s like the thunder in a stadium
WE ARE ALL CHEERING FOR IT
Okay, fine, inside of me is a feeling,
It feels bigger than it is
This is important
(except it’s not)
This is vital
(except it’s not)
I fucking need this
(except I know I don’t)
and then the first taste was stale
The thing was crumbled and wrinkled
and it tasted like dirt, sun-dried pale dirt
That was a gift
Because if it was pleasant, it would have been harder
Sometimes everything falls into place
when I flicked that thing, the final flick,
Few things have ever been that satisfying
While still feeling…
This is self destruction
I’ve leaned on this for most of my life
Does it really bring better thoughts to the front?
Oh but it is hypocrisy
I am shoving strife
Down the paper barrel
Within silenced halted breaths
On the other end it shoves its own down upon me
So flick it
Flick it away
Why are you reaching for another?
The quieted breathing is what calms
I just give credit where credit is not due
And I can feel, yes I can feel the damage caused
The damage I’ve self inflicted
This is a flaw
Yes this is a flaw
And a representation of the person I used to be
But can I really say that?
Cuz I’m writing this with a burning stick between my fingers
My chest says be stronger, resist
But behind it comes a larger wave of anxiety
Welcome to the undertow
I feel like I am dying here
There’s a voice of reason rising
And I know it’s right
I’m just not sure
It’s easier to say I’m not capable and move along
But look around, the voice of reason says softly
Yes you’re right, again that idea of giving credit comes to mind
And now I’m writing this while wondering:
What is it I’m trying to say?
The answer is simple but strangely scary:
Fight for life
As luck would have it,
There was a perfect tiny tool
Dirt and filth will always find its way to us
I’m there for you as much as I can be
Like how you’re there for me as much as you can
Mother Nature is often times an enemy
but today she’s a friend
This twig acts as a tool to clean your name
I know you understand that I wish I could do more
If I could I’d love to wipe away all the dirt
because you are not what they say
No WE are not what they say we are
but we both know the stains on your name run deep
They are inside of the hearts and minds of our kin
This is the closest I can ever be to you
and yes it hurts but it’s not our fault
I’ll never blame you
I wish it could have been different
but sitting here like this… it’s strange
I thought I knew what relief was
and I’m comfortable enough now to admit I was wrong
The way I am feeling today is slighty scary
Is this what acceptance feels like?
Is this what it feels like to know myself?
I felt you yesterday, you knocked and I didn’t answer
Today I realized it was you
Today I listened
To both myself and you
I sit here reflecting on a soaked morning that is winding down
and the comparisions are clear
In spite of the gray sky outside
Mother Nature is drowning the blades of grass
and I remember doing something similar
but today I’ve done something different
I’ve found something new that feels unlike anything else
Read my mind and you’ll find words like peace and renewal
Again I say to you: Thank you
I’m glad you are my blood
I’m proud to call you my Uncle
and I think I’ve found what I felt I was meant to find through you
To celebrate FIVE WHOLE years since the release of my first poetry collection, both collections are free today, tomorrow and Monday(September 1st, 2nd, and 3rd). In all territories, so wherever you are the books are free!
If you already have them, tell a friend! and also thank you very much for reading.
visit: amazon.com/author/edwardkane to find me on Amazon!
Outside of the US?
Australia book 1
Australia book 2
The books are available for all, I only listed a few here. If you need help in any territory please let me know.
This is only the beginning of a sort of celebration I have planned for the next couple weeks. Including a few poems that none have ever read, that I was saving for a third collection but I changed and didn’t feel the need like I did with these two.
Thank you for reading.
There seems to be more ghosts than demons, less like a hand gripping at every scrap of flesh and more like helpful, guiding hands. I’m not alone and I’m not together. Somehow it’s okay that I have outlived more than I wish to count. Even with the idea that an early grave was in someway bought and paid for.
Hope you kept the receipt.
I remember the car, I’m sure you do too and that actually goes for all of you. Strange to consider the importance of the thing most take for granted, more than anything else. It’s a weapon of mass destruction and a safe haven, a thrill and a fear. The wearer of many skins and roles. But do you remember the car we sat in? And all the things we said, all the plans and theories and discussions. It’s like seasons, years even, of my life are encased there. An entire year as one night. Ever ready to be replayed in fractured, minute blips. Memories like raindrops in a storm.
Back then we were invincible; living and breathing and fatally flawed. The easiest handholds are the ones that seem to crumble under our weight. I was a faded crosswalk. Painted lines well worn from feet and tires, and just about anything else that wanted to roll on through. You were a friend when I wasn’t sure I knew the meaning of the word. Here in the after, I’ve repainted the lines. They look a little different but I’m sure you’d recognize me. After all, you’re here. Isn’t that strange and beautiful and fucked and a whole dictionary of things? You’re gone and yet you’re here. I can shake the demons off but I can’t throw salt over my shoulder at the ghosts. My ghosts. I protect you, the way you seemingly protect me.
Every day there’s a memory to time travel through. We are time travelers. I am the paint, the pavement, the faded lines and the ones redone and touched up.
All of it, all at once.
All of you, all together.
From a far, when you
look upon a cemetery,
what do you see?
In the midst, when the
planet looks out at the stars,
does it see the same?
Peace comes to me,
momentarily, a reprieve
from living complications.
Ideas exist outside of progress–
The corner of a building
like the corner of a page meant to be turned
Please follow me back in time
Into a cloud of smoke
So much to burn
So much to learn
We said, we agreed, that freedom is ours
Strange how definitions change
Stranger how they don’t
I set my mind free, truly
and I think, I think now you’ve finally escaped
You see we didn’t know it then
but separate storms were coming to take us apart
There’s a Fort that keeps those days preserved
Everlasting, for always
Because they can’t take the music away
Nothing can take it away
It’s stronger than we are, a frozen moment
Is it possible to mourn something that can’t be taken away?
Because the gift was in your eyes
We barely knew each other then but you saw, you heard
and you believed me
and that was more than anyone else was capable of
That moment changed me
but I couldn’t reach you the way you reached me
Maybe I wasn’t meant to
One way streets are suffocating
Thank you for letting me breathe