Chasing Histories

Chasing my own history
Like I can stop time
In this world where
Not even I am mine.
Though still young
I recall my youth
Through a kaleidoscope
Which distorts the truth.

I grow older
As the crowd never ages
Repeating old words
On yellowing pages.
Chronically present
I remain in the past
Fighting for a love
Still fading fast.

Antiquity passes,
Unheard masses,
Rose-tinted glasses
And you and I.

Stubborn stasis,
Without synapsis,
“A state of chassis”
And then just I.

In shadowy corners
An island of one
Marooned to others
But revered by some.
I wait as always
For it to mature
But fail to notice
It slowly immure.

Offending lights
Strobe to blind
Everyone who was
Left behind.
And yet your eyes
Bore right through me
Caged within
My hushed humility.

Antiquity passes,
Unheard masses,
Rose-tinted glasses
And you and I.

Stubborn stasis,
Without synapsis,
“A state of chassis”
And then just I.

History through roses
Perfectly paints us:
The present poses
Happily without us.

Presume The Posts

On he stumbles,

Blinded like I was,

Bouncing off walls

Transparent as gauze.

One despairing dive:

A brotherly screen -

But somebody steps

To screen him from me.

His hair would curl

At her breath so warm,

But when she left

His curls were shorn.

Having died its death,

That love so fleet,

False solace was found -

Her silver-tongue still sweet.

Friends preserve masks

              with ossified odes,

But will not stand

              loitering in their own abodes.

Friends seek refuge

              without restraint,

But will not hear ill

              of ecstasy’s feint.

I hark backwards,

A wont of my own:

Anecdotes of ache

Pile within my phone.

Firmly on my shoulder

Rests a hazardous hand -

Deaf to the words

Of our generation’s bands.

Their words are his,

Uttered in sincerity;

Harsher all the time

In truth and severity.

And she is naïve

To be so callous,

Dragging their story

Screaming through malice.

Friends preserve masks

              with ossified odes,

But will not stand

              loitering in their own abodes.

Friends seek refuge

              without restraint,

But will not hear ill

              of ecstasy’s feint.

And then we collide

          - his world and mine.

Indiscernible divide

            - though inimical inclines.

Yet still he persists

              - silence of the crammed.

His brother he resists

              - his father already damned.

But his friends exist

              - so his posts are manned.