Paradox Lost

September 8, 2017

You’ve seen me write a lot of words, you heard the notes, the shine, the song like the birds.

You have seen my black heart pull yours from your wreckage, I try and hold you together despite all that spillage.

 

Sadly these things you’ve seen of me, gold dust in the misery,

Don’t give me an insight to the paradox,

Later still, sound of time bomb, ticking clocks,

And all because I do not know how to feel the sun.

A paradox lost, cold in this frost, we can see the Spring ahead but my god what is the cost?

Can I please feel the sun?

 

Standing here look back at the path of destruction, wondering if feasible, is re-construction?

Have the land to build, material abounds, but what is that dark thing in these hallowed grounds?

 

Sadly these things you’ve seen of me, gold dust in the misery,

Don’t give me an insight to the paradox,

Later still, sound of time bomb, ticking clocks,

And all because I do not know how to feel the sun.

A paradox lost, cold in this frost, we can see the Spring ahead but my god what is the cost?

Can I please feel the sun?

You here to be my saviors, why have we become enemies?

Thomas Spychalski 

 

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Breaking Spells

September 7, 2017

I break the logical positive, being one who has walked a path below.

Outside, people outcast me as a cloud full of rain, but they will need when the storm arrives.

Pain cascades through every bit of my existence, better I know what it feels like when the floods of your essence break thier banks, the only love I can give you understand or accept.

Hatred in mind because I despise my station as the field mouse hates being a blind catch for a hungry predator. 

Breaking the spells of this world you see shining because I’ve only seen the dull ache of time and entropy, and have yet to see anything bloom full.

Remember when the history proves it out, either way you remain happily oblvious and here I am, haunted by repeated experience, chomping at the bit that never gives.

-Thomas Spychalski 


Tonight.

September 4, 2017

Tonight the air feels stale, as I lay awake in bed.

Feeling quite alone still as one day melds into the next.

Rather tonight lasted forever, as tomorrow will only be another day in a long list of copies.

Tonight that day has yet to come, toiling in places we despise, arriving to a empty room after, but from here it has yet to happen.
Questions abound tonight about what is to be done, but the mind is uneasy and spoils the body as well.

Tonight we are unsure of what is dream and what is reality, tonight we ride on the dull razor of perpetual seduction of what is known.

It is never well to be shrouded in the night, never well to dread the approach of a new day, but this play has taken the stage before, sold out, standing room only.

-Thomas Spychalski 


Ghost World

September 4, 2017

Barren, empty days lead to endless lonely nights,

Most pray for riches, I pray just to belong.

Population overload, but still I do not know what makes me so transparent.

 

The ghost world I inhabit has nothing and no one for me, all of you like spirits who I can see but who cannot see me at all.

Haunting my own life, walking in endless patterns as I wait to be properly buried from my youthful death.

Thomas Spychalski


Forgive, Forget, Forgive.

September 3, 2017

One day the mirror speaks, asks why we look so cold,

My only response: “Brother, this is getting old.”

Burn many bridges, make many amends,

Save your self-abuser, kill your friends.

 

Forgive, forget, forgive…

heart like a lion, mind like a sieve,

Forget, forgive, forget…

brilliance was forgotten, now just a threat.

I know none can trust me anymore, but they hold on still, want me to wake up, even if we never make up because even the coldest of stars hate to see another fall from the skies.

 

One night the wounds might speak, ask why can’t we heal?

My response: “But it’s you that spins this wheel.”

Act like we don’t see, turn you back on those to be,

Blessing the demons, shunning ‘Mother’ unapologetically.

 

Forgive, forget, forgive…

heart like a lion, mind like a sieve,

Forget, forgive, forget…

brilliance was forgotten, now just a threat.

I know none can trust me anymore, but they hold on still, want me to wake up, even if we never make up because even the coldest of stars hate to see another fall from the skies.

-Thomas Spychalski


Betrayal of the Rock.

August 18, 2017

This feeling used to disappear when I indulged you, even external minds have told me they like me so much better when we are one like this.

Now you betray me as the other feeling does not leave as I take you in, you’re the only love that stays by my side and damn you I need your kiss.

Intoxicating Toxic lovers, I know this is not right, mother forgive me but it’s true, this was the only thing ever to stay through the maddening night.

And you leave me now, like a weary partner at the door, baggage in hand, forcing me to live through the unrelenting weather beyond your cold embrace.

Unlike the others that have left me behind can you do me kindness as you exit and tell me now that the water no longer quenches the fire and smoke has been filtered out, with what now do I replace?

  • Thomas Spychalski

 


Of Roots & Fractals

August 6, 2016

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Throwing this out there and it was inspired by this writing prompt on Reddit.

Bob admittedly felt strange as he awoke on that Sunday morning, staring at the blue sky from his bed in his tiny one bedroom apartment, the bright sunlight forcing his eyes and his mind under the covers to try and regroup.

It felt like he got no rest at all, even though he had gotten into the habit of sleeping as much as possible, because it was better to be blissfully asleep rather than think about how lonely and isolated he was every single day of his life.

His eyes burned and his body ached as if he had been on a bender and then proceeded to start a fight in which the odds must have plainly been against him. Bob had vague recollections of a strange dream, of hands reaching out and a voice that kept telling him he had one last chance.

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