Month: February 2016

If I were to invent a monster,
Fantastic embodiment of terror,
A creature hideous to behold,
I think I’d forgo the fangs.
There’d be no claws or howls
Or capes or hollow-eyed hunger.
This beast would not lurk darkly
Or seek nocturnal dominion.

My monster stands unblinking,
A beautiful face cast in sadness,
Following and just watching.
It’s victims turn but always find
The melancholy gaze.
In the mirror, on the street,
At the cafe, or in the theater,
There it waits focused on just you.
This is no hallucination,
Everyone can see it watching,
never responding, and staring at you.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Trickle Drops”)

Static on the line,
Crackling consonants,
Warm and empty.
There is no me here,
Just the hissing void,
And now that I’m lost
Please don’t pick up.

Starved, I detach
Set adrift to white noise.
I see friends about.
Are they mine?
Does it matter?
Do I love anything
More than having it?

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes”)

Hello little traveler.
To where do you go
Fetal elements afloat?
Your payload fertile,
Your potential mighty,
Off you sail subject
To breezes oblivious,
Furtive fate awaiting.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Roots and Leaves Themselves Alone”)

Everything you see
I am.

If you see me happy
I am.
If you see me cruel
I am.
If you see me lazy
I am.
If you see me brave
I am.
If you see me bright
I am.
If you see me sick
I am.

And everything you cannot see
I am.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Are You the New Person Drawn Toward Me?”)

Exhausted, hangry, horny,
Behind, beset, worried,
Impatient, nauseous, confused.
The day was spectacular
But my view kind of sucked.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “When I Heard at the Close of the Day”)

Seeing and seen,
Friends, unguarded
Sitting sharing round.
We ask each other
The deep questions,
Excavating worries,
Unearthing brilliance,
Metabolizing doubt.
Here we are together.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “The Base of All Metaphysics”)

Little dots of color
Red, green, blue
Turn on, turn off,
No shape or form
No stories to tell.

Yet, before me I see
Black and white,
Faces and things,
Comedy and tragedy,
Digital illusion.

-T. Weeks
(A response “Of the Terrible Doubt of Appearances”)