Way Out West

anarchist's picture

Where are you?
My river explorer
The navigator of those deepest lonely waters
Take me with you
On our shining raft
For with hope and blind mirage
I see only you
In bent
Blue gray
Sketches

Comments

elph's picture

Very evocative...

IOW... I like it!

Continue!

anarchist's picture

I'm glad you've finally read one you really liked.

I like the tone of shorter poems more. They feel like they end when they just met me, and it urges me to finish the thoughts in my head. It feels much like these situations often do. Mark Z. Danielewski's poems sometimes do that to me, and it always feels nice and quaint.

lonewolf678's picture

I've had days like that,

except I couldn't put it in words. Well done.

anarchist's picture

Thank you.

Your compliments always make me feel good about my emotions and the way I'm forced to express them.

lonewolf678's picture

You're welcome,

but what exactly forces you?

anarchist's picture

My emotions do.

They're sort of like computers. If they're really nice, I love everything about them until they gradually get shittier again. (And I can't love them too much or I'll waste all my time and energy with them.) If they're already shit, I need to do something about them or I will go insane. Basically, if I don't get rid of them they're going to get rid of me.

elph's picture

I think...

we both love puzzles!

lonewolf678's picture

I remember being on the rollercoaster.

That's what I called my emotions, the rollercoaster. Once you get older the shitty moodswings do even out. I know it sounds like bullshit, I thought the same when I was younger, but it really does work out that way.