Poems That Came From a Beanstalk

This Space

Gimme a little
Of this space
That we're in

One thing after another
Bam
Bam
Bam
Hollow and loud
Hitting only my head
And the middle of my chest

Can we hold the noise?
Can we stand still
For just a minute?

I use to
In a really good way
I stood in that spot where
Sweet and sour met each other
To run around my ankles
And spiral up my legs

The two of them ran so close
That you could only recognize them
As the magic
Not two

I don't get to stand in that spot
In this space
Quite so much as I'd ought
Or would like

I saw it floating around
Up around my hands
A couple times

But it's mostly just memories

And I only hope
Someone else is seeing
The spirals glow around their ankles
Because if I was keeping the magic alive

It might be pretty close
To it's last heartbeat

I don't wanna be the only one to blame
When I let it down
Which I am

It's so hard to do
In this wretched space
Because my energy is being wasted
Now

On pushing that metal
And stacking those boxes
Working like a cog in this clock

Meaningless work
This is not work
This is machinary
Work yields accomplishment

We do not work

When will you get back to it?
You must suffer to have joy
You say
But are you just afraid?

What, of them?

I have not seen many beans from you
Lately
No blossoms to speak of

It's just taking me out
Wringing me like an overused rag
Just keepin my eyes on the hard ground
In this place

It's the easiest way to keep them open
And the sun
Is too hot now

I'd blame it on the trash
Woven into your trees
In this place
But maybe I've lost it

Maybe I'm falling into
This place, where you make me feel
So thin
So ghostly

I'm feeling pretty weak
And you're asking me too many questions
And what do I do in
This place?

Where there's no time to stare at the
Morning dew
Collected in the corners of my window

Where I stay up too  late
Staring at the fake stories
So I don't think about the spirals
That melt into puddles under my feet

Making my shoes soaked
And feet heavy
So heavy that my whole body slumps down
A slave to it

Is it me?
My lack of discipline?
My own disconnection?
No more drive?
My sin taking over?

I hope the time comes
Where I can coax the magic back
Letting it know that the coast is clear

This is my only hope:
That it's too ugly now
So it's in hiding, and I don't want it out yet
I pray it comes out later

Because
What am I gonna do?

With no more magic to speak of?