Sitting there making it all about him
Pretending that this earth isn’t hollow
Superficial sorrowful pleasures manufacturing peace
How about only sobriety from pain
And can it just be argued away
This soul is only borrowed
He’s trying to keep the drama discreet but it’s disheartening
Looking away from the wreckage by those blinding summer flurries
No one cares to see we just might be sinking
Playing catch-up with these last-ditch amends
Leaves him thinking
How is he to go on breathing when he can’t stop the bleeding
Let’s keep pretending
Memories of those seppuku butterflies she blossomed
He doesn't think she knows
Just exactly what she took from his soul
It’s insane
That we make it
This love actually from nothing
He’s feeling a bit weary
She says she’s blameless
It tangles him a bit speechless
Not even the waves make a sound
Disappointed they’ll leave this earth without one last kiss
The first in the dirt
Crashing bones and that paper tree
Digging it up his head sails north laughing before bowing his face to it
The more he pushes through as though he needs this he can’t find a reason that implies a worth
You might wonder how he can lie on his back and call it quits with this knife breaking skin
What he sees now is this heartbreak is bigger than she or him
Comprehending suicide through fleeting images
Can just about taste the bullet
The best revenge comes from no one knowing it
Made enough spectacle of this dark moment
Dearest, he is gone to this saga of everlasting suffering
The grief swung back on him with a vengeance
Every sunset resembles bloodshed
This is all his fault he knows it
Don’t write him off just yet
He’s doing fine penning that story
A good’ol boy pulling himself up by his bootstraps failing to mend his heart
He lets himself down with an unsound mind
Dying alone forgetting every prayer, oh the winter he knows
So take his worst intentions and his words for their worth
Made him feel he has no purpose
Questioning his reason for being
What changed, it was all worth the affliction
Starting to feel her slip away
He hates that it feels like he’s been here before
Knowing what’s good in her will forever be the best part of him
He can’t let her go
When he sees her again she won’t be alone
Deserved much better than him
Don’t be afraid, darling, he thinks under a sky sifting more than the sea,
You’re really quite wonderful
He’s left chasing hate
On her way up Jacob’s Ladder
He knows he’ll see her face when he resides in that dark and lonely corner
Fantasizing about that tomorrow
Where it was always her hand in his
Them against the world
She is divine
All good things come to an end
For him it was always teetering and on the line
Repeating these degenerative cycles over and over again
Trying to quit blaming people
Just stopped falling in love instead
A decision lingering to breathe in at the bottom of this cold river
Bottomless faith in words as deeds and foxhole prayers useless poetry
Letting the wound close with that loop
Filling his lungs with any smoke
The only knot he’d tie the noose
This Old Testament lecture on how she walked away and took everything
There was this moment you see
Just this guy alone and forever that way, isolated for good reason
Atop it all and questioning
He is so low
Has to drink himself to death so that he can remember hope’s touch
Rehabilitation period is over
Here’s to chasing it with apocalypse
You look like shit, they say
That’s ignorant
What he sees
He’s shooting for death and documenting mindlessness ahead of the curtain
We are at stake to lose everything
He still cries thinking on her, her arms calling
Despite this he doesn’t feel a thing
It’s a certain bankruptcy of the human heart
Everything in a life made uncertain
Driving through the Verrazzano
Felt like entering her
And endlessly driving off of it
Taking on that water thresher
He’s left drowning without a rope
There’s a murder inside his soul
Sure in need of another blonde in a minute
Losing her was like wasted youth
Where’s the exit sign to this past life
His own feels plagiarized
Don’t let this foolishness cloud the only judgement of her
She as a bride will be peak biblical beauty of a human being
A lottery without the stones he casted
Always been a parable for demise
Starving as he feeds
His pessimism a knowing
They didn’t care to listen
The paranoia is unsettling
Dwelling on the other side of the moon
Where even her shadow crawls forever
He is done with people
She waited on the right thing and gave it a universe
It’s all he can see
This loss consuming
Vices are softening the ways of first touches
He’s breaking away towards new pastel
Incendiary and falsified
Here’s another poem for her
Another postponed suicide, the French said
He can’t tell the difference between an axe to grind or a night to cave
Written in irrelevant ash
Ready to leave it all behind, was it even real?
Everything he has left to say is in vain
Looking for closure cruelly scratching at scars
He cannot fight it enough
At the very least he had love once
Caught between church bells and siren song
There will be a warrant left sifting the abyss
What grave will be made of this world?
What grave can be made of him?
It’s hard to accept how afraid he’s become
A piece of him gone and completely erased
Tracking his existence to what he once found
Blinded by these difficult truths
Even though they are burned keep those pages by your side
Wait for him and just stay
Sick to death of being alive
Done with it
When did it come down to one last cigarette?
Being this old young
The fire won’t catch, a match won’t spark
High wind he can’t breathe
Tossing away the nicotine he falls to his knees everything darkening defending these small and spazzing flames
All that gale turning at odds with this translation of light.
/
ANTHONY GEDELL writes from New Jersey publishing in Hobart, Poverty House, Variant, Revolution John, Punk Noir Magazine, and Bull. His debut novel, Love Lies in the Throes of Rhetoric, is slated for release October 22nd, 2024.
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