I Don'T Know How To Come Back Down - Poem by gregory collins
I have on a schoolboy's shirt, and my human face
longs to see itself again. Like i can lean on my pain
if the wind sings a song of darkness. Like when i cry
in silence, trees bark bitterly and my eyes harvest
the crying like something is not wrong when you
find a place of no examples. When you listen
to compact discs as thin as the way you search the horizon.
As i am mostly hungry and sad and it is a small
flame, barely enough to expect no welcome. But
on the dark side of the sun music rises in the distance,
and how invisable i have become. Like veins in a knife,
and a crescent moon makes me weep because
that is where i lost my mother. That is where i have
never been able to swallow all of my naval cord,
because of how foolish the silent feelings between
joy and sorrow actually are. That is the last streak
of light, when i am discovered lying on your side.
Your soul shaped like a guitar and it still torments me.
I circle a fire that has not burned for years, and i am
imprisoned like the breath caught in the bottom of cups.
I am freedom dancing and howling like i am already dead,
wounded. Bleeding to death while waiting for someone
to seize the darkness. To dream at the moon and
hurl it from its path. The fact that my identity card
is the way my father looks up. Looks up until i find the place.
Until the delirious breath of vulgarities long you for
the rest of my life. For the love i've left behind, waiting to break in two.
Waiting at the end of this dream like a hole through sadness.
Like i have spilled onto so many highways the wind is blowing
my bones, and the stars i could never reach, they are displayed
in the well-lit windows of my soul. They are like when my hair
was not yet grown, and i am just drunk grafitti on the wall
of a little temple, and there are knocks on the door of night.
It is my friends and family and they hurt in ten directions.
They and their eyes show, all freedoms burst out laughing,
when trying to threaten another freedom, another cry lifting me up.
Comments about I Don'T Know How To Come Back Down by gregory collins
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.