Wanting to But Not Being Able to Want to

The echoes thundering out my bedroom window haven’t left since the day I unraveled.

The ghosts in the walls maintain their movements as if locked in place.

They’re sneaking under the sheets and burying under the carpet,

concealed in a fortress of dust.

I tried to stamp them out but they break and attach,

track on my footsteps from the hospital to that place six feet under the ground.

They’re telling stories of you and me and all of those endless hypotheticals,

delving into the theoretical of what binds an eyesight to another;

the same questions that drain your heart and impose inaction when common sense begs motion.

If only you weren’t so poetic, I would have burned you all down if I could,

stripping planks and fabric to exterminate the thought.

But that grip you keep on my shoulder is a comfort every time I feel its pinch.

Maintain that rigid control with your handcuffs.

I’m bound and bound to always be bound by a repeating drama.

It’s enough to render me sleepless,

throwing myself into old photographs that hurt more than help.

I can’t tell anymore if I’m my own antagonist for remembering each regret they portray

and holding on to it, weighing my eyelids down.

If anyone asks, I’m not going out.

If anyone asks, I’m still at the start.

If you’re wandering on the old street and those neighborhood haunts,

I’m still at home.

I’m listening to static in my eardrums and watching my alarm clock march forward.

Time is progressing but my life is falling backward.

If anyone asks, I never left the room.


( ❤ Mitch)

Visual Replays Now in Stereo Format

Working another graveyard shift with your emotions.

You’re hiding behind your mechanical smile and not giving anything away.

Geometrically, you are symmetrically in line horizontal and vertical,

though if you give me the time, I’ll find your cracks.

I don’t ask for your money or any of your rewards,

but if I make it through, I hope you can recognize me.

Turn your eyes and see me for the first time.

Scars are opening like a waterfall.

I guess I messed up somehow.

I’m shouting “Once more, again,” and I’m lying on the same damn floor.

I took a chance at stealing your face,

lost the race to another man.

Now I am falling back to old habits,

like all those old friends that threw me out the window.

“Once more, again.”

If I was born with the strength, I would’ve asked for you to change.

I would have tried to change the course.

I would have tried to say my words,

But I choked on them instead.

Felt them jam inside my throat

And punish me for speaking.

Please don’t ever look my way again.

I’m surrendering to industry—all hail progress to namelessness.

You’re just another somebody I’ll never be able to hold.


(<3 Mitch)

Having a Domestic with an Inanimate Object

“Having a Domestic with an Inanimate Object”

It left hidden in the full moon’s glow,

driving into the open and out of my sight,

and I was all alone,

and I felt so damn lost and stranded.

Whenever you called, I was never far away,

purging my reserve just to preserve you day by day.

In your every photograph there was only error—each reflection broken,

but in those images I saw something greater.

I gave you shoulders to stand on,

a roof above your head.

I gave you the confidence to stand up,

and your mouth the right words to speak.

I gave my every word to stay by you

and opened up my heart,

and you gave me a door and a shove

and made me taste the pavement.

You’ll be looking out your rearview mirror for the rest of your life,

seeing those reflections of a self you cut with a knife.

I never knew I’d been betrayed until you shut the door and walked away,

made dreams return to being dreams and memories gain a sour taste.

Stop lingering on this ground: it speaks too much about what was.

This isn’t your home anymore.

There’s no time to waste.

You’ve got a brand-new face that every boy on every corner knows.

I’ll pass by you, used up and alone, as you come undone.


(<3 Mitch)