I see you, and I will get there.

I see you and your worth, though it is more than I comprehend. I see you giving more when others are at their end. I celebrate your birth, as well as each and every friend. But it is through a veil of rage and wounds that I see you along this blurry path to mend. When I question what it is that is worth the struggle and the fight, as well as the comfortable silence, and the applause, I have but one suggestion, and I might just drop a few jaws. This sense of good prevailing gives me dreams I cannot remember from the previous night. What I ought, and what I should, do not always equate with what I want without hesitation that is even slight. I fly only in metallic angels that charge now for meals. I drive when I must and when I should. But this home on the range would seem a bit strange if the heart is not in it for good. No matter what. Walking through the fire and singing. Text doesn’t stutter enough to match the bells in my chest that are ringing. Does this compute? Does it linger in memory? Do the words seem to cling to your eyes like a dress. Is it mediocre but cute, fluffy but not absolute, with no sense of longing for them or me, as the collective story is merely a mess. I see you fighting, pushing, smiling, and loving. I see you making, and calling, and breaking, and feeding. I see you calling out to the abyss, searching for meaning amidst this tirade of torment. I see you ready for the parade of enormous torrent. If promises were always broken we’d have no reason to make them. If my word were my bond would others know? I promise my words are not fed from the bottom, but that they fly like a firefly glow. If pieces were revealed, and truth be told, you would trust my heart, as I yours. But our deepest concealed desire to break the mold fills up the basin as it pours. Some may see clearly in a glance. Some may dance all night and never see. The chance we never take, may make or break, and only one chance is me. Things that never go written come out in other pieces, though we dig and peruse and some still cannot absorb what is true. I sit and I read, I write rather than bleed, and the only one I miss is you. I see this effort from a heart of gold, and the results may not always be what you wish. But revenge doesn’t mend as a hot or cold dish. I hold the idea in my head that I can be more, that I am more. I pause in my day to see you. These words while I sleep, and my fingers strike the keys, construct riddles steep, and will not succumb to the please. I forget the acclaim that I have garnered. I rise from my chair and I walk. The drunken kudos praise never stays, but I cherish each time that we talk. I see you creating and planning. I see you painting the sky. I see you in the stillness, and in the realness. I see you as the reason why. Hearts cannot bear to love as much, but they strive, for they feel they must. I see you reminding me I’m alive. I see you with a will that will never bust. I hear your echo in the time of dusk, and I laugh over the crest of the hill. This is the time for great days and fulfilled nights. This is the time for errand strays and errant knights. Have you figured out the plot and the longing? Do you see why I unearth the vines? I want to own but with a sense of belonging. I want to cut through all lines. I want to see you when I meet my end. I want to know my efforts were never in vain. I want to call you my friend, without any agenda with loss or gain. Loss only of inhibition. Gain only of love. Push with me, pull with me, stand with me, fly with me, knowing enough is never enough. We must give more than enough, to be more than alright and better than okay. I see you in my mind at night, and with the first break of day.

About SIDEWAYS EIGHT

Being heard, stirred, and perhaps cured by life's many hidden images and the written-spoken word.
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