Ears before eyes

Hours have lived
and died
in the space of this whisper:
Something playful,
but also unfriendly,
the invitation to a fight.

Anger is the twang
of a breaking guitar string -
startling, abrasive, then gone;
all an act,
and the remembrance
of everything unnecessary.

So he dances like
leaves falling in autumn,
barely aware of himself,
and taken
by even the slightest twist
of an outgoing breeze.
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Song of the Day:
Shad, The Fool Pt 3 (Frame Of Mind)

Hold fast

He followed the last words of her goodbye like a set of muddy tire tracks - praying that, even as they faded ever too quickly into the grayish-black asphalt of the night, they wouldn't really disappear forever.
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Song of the Day:
Simon & Garfunkel, Baby Driver

What's still to come?

Light follows your feet out the door,
the briefest imprints left behind
like prints on the beach,
soon to disappear in the darkness
of another hungry wave's pressure.

Here we tumble in the surf,
heads under feet, arms uncontrollable,
deaf in the crashing calamity.
But still: The sweating anxiety,
the fear - what's still to come?

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Playing on my Spotify at this very moment:
Flying Lotus (ft. Kendrick), Never Catch Me
(I can't quit this music video.)

Chance/habit

NaPoWriMo Day 19: Going off-prompt today, because this just popped into my head.
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Any glance could be providence,
just a small moment when
a corridor opens in the crowd
for two sets of eyes to meet.

To be fair, the mind will read
just exactly what it wants -
it builds a fire in the rain
from brush and a loose gathering
of wet leaves and plant matter.

But goodness, what if that fire
somehow does manage to light?
Hasn't it then all been worth
the fears and hours of false hope?
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Playing on my Spotify at this very moment:
Crosby, Stills & Nash, Carry On/Questions