The Dead Dyad

My friend, he came

to drag a boy

to my doorstep

sure that we should

know one another

And so we did,

from the tips of our very souls

to every ripple of our brains

to the soft curves of our hearts

It was history

in our own books

like a hieroglyph

of important events

“The world is atrocious”

we would say

Together, we piled

our soft clay emotions, views

melded into a lumpy heap,

working, forlorn, as one unit

towards the formation into something

functional and beautiful

The pain, the truth

which could have nearly paralyzed us,

exercised through poetry and song

let us bleed in monochromatic synchronicity,

a freedom from the bulging strain

in our adolescent brains

from realizing the repulsive side of humankind

We discovered a golden force

glowing within, an ability

to forget our woes

and accept every fleeting moment

as a euphoric one

Many magical moments followed,

steeped in ultra-cognifizance,

a sparkling wonder of intense awareness

I have had to let go

of him

and the puzzle

as to how he could just

walk away and be

the antithesis of

it all-

all we felt





as if all along,

he was just an imaginary friend

Published in: on September 19, 2009 at 3:10 pm  Comments (4)  
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4 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Oh, now see.. That gives me lots more info than just talking about it. I get it.

    • Really? Since when does one of my uber-cryptic poems outdo my longwinded dialogue? But, yeah. It was that intense of a friendship. Now it’s all water under the fuckin bridge.

  2. That was amazingly powerful. Truly spiritual.

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