My Name is Sender…

Lend me your eyes;

Hi, my name is Sender and I have a problem,

Problems…

My life recorded invisibly on my body,

You can not see,

Or fathom,

Indelibly on my soul,

Like a crown of thorns,

Though you have already embraced it,

And ganders through the disjointed cracks of my prismatic heart,

And someday,

Should you be so lucky,

You might know me in a way that so few can or will;

Should you be so lucky?

I hope that one could be so lucky,

Muse,

Who now come, seems so ready to depart,

Afraid of the possibility, possibilities,

Departure delayed, arrival uncertain,

Yet,

You may find that I will endure beseeching you,

Imploring and enticing you,

Silently,

In words like these,

To approach my story,

With a vulnerable mind and a sacred heart,

So that I can show you what I already know,

Just as you do,

These feelings are not the imaginary dalliances

Of delusion,

Rather the infusion of the Ether’s calling.

There are lashes, gashes, cuts and bruises,

Beyond the eyes comprehension,

Those never heal,

There are torments and tortures,

I would wish upon none but me,

Those never heal,

For though the blessing and curse exist in me,

Bipolar dualities,

This Warrior Poet, fights on,
GO BRAGH;

Shattered glass heart and malfunctioning dreams.

That you never see,

Though you may feel, if, perchance,

You had the bravery,

The courage to risk it all for happiness,

As so often I do,

To stand exposed, as I am at this moment,

Though, should you find that power,

You may experience with me,

Should you be so inclined,

Touched by me as I long to touch you,

Reliving daily,

Seconds, minutes, hours and days,

In rapid succession those moments that brought me here,

Now,
Muse,

Tracing my restlessness with rabid delights,

Delights like you,

Muse…

My fingers like Picasso’s brush,

And Van Gogh palette,

My authenticity falsely imprisoned in cubist fragments,

A sick joke played by my psyche as

My veracity self realized,

And abused,

Calls forth the divine intention of a personal gentrification,

You may unearth,

That when I implore you,

I am pained beyond words,

Except when I see your smile,

From those big brown eyes

And your radiant soul,

While revealing to you I am stretched across my canvas,

At your behest,

I am thrust into the eye of the storm,

That life has constantly divulged to me,

Dark clouds, gathering and furious storms

And my Black Dog.

As soon as one episode ends without a laugh track,

Another begins,

Up and down,

Down and up,

A silent movie,

While Charlie Chaplin prays us smile,

I can paint a smile on my face,

Rehearsed and like a costume, hiding,

It does little to conceal my contempt,

For this plight,

I am caught inside the cage where the bird cannot,

Does not,

Will not sing,

Though the beautiful song is so clear,

All I need do is vocalize it,

As I have,

Watching as I do,

Interned and waiting,

For my turn to reveal more,

Muse,

So that you might understand,

Muse,

What makes me tick,

What drives me onward,

What removes the veil,

And the answer Muse, is you,

Thus as a proverbial bride,

In this revelation,

You will carry me across the threshold,

So that I can intimately express to you,

That my scars are the graffiti

Imprinting my story on my body,

My heart, mind and soul,

And in that moment,

You will have me,

Tagged,

As I have already,

Tagged you,

Muse.

SDM

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2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

2 responses to “My Name is Sender…

  1. diana

    So, what makes you tick?

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