Again in the flow of earlier trials, I have failed.
This time I am not struggling with my lungs.
My wrist isn’t scared,
but this is a crossroad.
My wrists have failed the emotion.
I would have called you the air I
My embers were screaming at the top of my skin to get you.
Then, build a home for you somewhere within mountains,
Where the tale of other suitors can’t reach.
I bury a cave in the mountain,
But I failed to invite you over for an indoor dinner.
The next try was over the phone.
With words at the mercy of my beer wet tongue.
Words couldn’t dance any better than that day.
That was the name of the robber that visited my house.
It stole the dancing word in a split second.
That was how far the description of my love could go.
The third time was a pirate chest washed across the shore.
It was after a carbon dioxide producing class.
I waited, with a short note on how best to explain one’s love.
Then I watched as you walk past, escorted by a boy and a friend.
I raised my head high and walk to another beer.
After loads of beer, beer said. This is where I give up.
All this happened, and beer reached a conclusion.
Not for me.
I still look through the long braid at the new lashes and brows.
At times, I make pictures of your look in my head to renew week old ones.
This is a failure. And I have failed to say what the mind wanted to.
Exactly what it is I can’t name.
It is something between being nature for a man; water for a fish.
I have failed and running to my beer.
James Not’in is a creative artist lost in the process of exploring existing and nonexistent forms of expressing creativity. Interested in exploring the innings of power and class in relation to creative art and it expression, he explore beyond his major form of expression with is textual to other forms with includes performance. He is available on twitter @eclipsepoet