Hard and Sour
I don’t want to see
through hard and sour eyes
I don’t want frozen feelings
in the fridge.
I don’t want to smell rotten flesh
on my bones.
Don’t want to
listen to the news and punch it out
I don’t want to remember a life of regrets and
imbibe the disgust.
I never want to paint murals with dust on my fingers
as others give into smiles
Don’t want to remain a stem
as others grow into flowers
Don’t want to tell my children stories of
of my past life of a man who was happy.
I want to drink happiness
I want to know what it’s like to have
contentment feel like heroin in my veins
I want to align myself
with the stars.
& sail through the oceans with the same grin as
& I want to feel loved.
It’s a strange occurrence
which I created my own prison
15 years ago.
I should have created a plan to escape
& found the perfect partner.
Instead, I am caught up in a smoke screen
created by own breath thick
cankerous cancerous fog
lost sailing on wicked waters
with no compass. Deadlocked without
a first mate.
Should have noticed that my life was a series of
Destruction & illusions.
I could have spent nights
counting the ways:
I could make love to you
I wanted to please you
to destroy this enchantment I placed on myself
Instead I spend days:
As a crying clown walking lines.
I spend hours hating myself
As a nervous system threaded with old
bargain bin heart strings
As a hippie without the free love
There is a circus of nails in my words
And I am running out of ways to remove them
I search for firewood to brighten up my day
in coffee shops
But there is nothing like you, to make my apartment burn.
Nathan Alan Schwartz suffers from a poetic syndrome in which he cannot help but write at least one poem a day. He is the editor in chief of Five 2 One magazine and his latest book Between The Empty Spaces can be found on Amazon.