Its Alluring, Alarming Voice. Almost Giving You No Choice. Its Breathtaking Complexion. Adding You To

Writing stuff when you don't have a full picture yet is fun.

Ah yes, the rumored gender, a rare and elusive sight

beneath the barren trees I am finally home

wandering illusions

they all have your face, except

you look happy. that’s how i know

this is not real.

~K.T.

ON THE BRINK

Standing on the brink

A humble grail in hand

Contemplating that clink

According to thy command

Boisterous play, or high jinks

As the mist begins to clear

I await in the morning chill

The Passover of my fear

Oh! Silently, in the still

Whether far or near

©Johnny J P Lee

19 September 2024

A Gogyoshiren Poem (10)

Photos Credit J. P. Lee

(Man on a cliff, unknown source)

everything’s moving too fast

it feels like most days, i’m

standing still, observing the 

movement as it blurs past

my tired vision.

~K.T.

the field is not infinite - do you remember when I realized? spacious nowheres torn by the heft of nameless graves - mountains, body-made, bloating beneath the sun - there is no protection from the world, it is something that happens to you -

some days, you’ll learn to be selfish, too

you’ll drink straight from the

jug. wipe your mouth with 

your forearm. you’ll dance 

past dizziness. let the nausea

carry you to bed. you’ll laugh

and laugh until your cheeks pinch. 

~K.T.

no longer that cold-running fear that       lonely my hands would droop and wrinkle so flat they would never       lift or hold the world again

roles reversed, crumbling in dust enough to cave in the lungs of titans. don't force me to breathe anyway, it's pointless in the grand scheme of cigar marketing. all for standing outside and watching the rays of sun stretch their limbs and lie down for the evening but the true beauty comes when all the pawn shops facing east are religiously nocturnal.

a hopper of trains, we can be out of here, we can be slugs happily avoiding the minefield of saltshakers set up to watch us perish. a tale as old as grandfather's medals, tears stinging eyes, hometown roaches feasting on nuclear Thanksgiving; part the lips and caught the tongue trembling common knowledge. that the boxing gloves hooked on the wall have touched their fair share of tender cheeks and retiring will only cause the maroon to solidify.

nap away the wrongdoings of foreign-feeling nausea. spin the story like a top on the evening reporter's desk laden with load-bearing ash-pokes the size of his ideals surrendering to keyboard gestures of love and floundering reputation.

the kindness of monsters was never a lie but always served some other goals