Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

Inside

Dim Some

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Light

its brilliant intensity

tempting and intimidating

sympathizing with burrowers

darkness heels the promises of light

a sort of comfort in being unseen

once fear of the unseen escapes you

besides

its only your imagination-

creating what has yet to manifest

irony, I suppose

imagination being this freedom

yet shackling you in this moment

the mind lives in a darkness more forgiving than light

because the shade may temporarily conquer truth

nurturing and then sheltering fairy tales

where exposure, it’s brutal reality

demands accountability

ignorance is..

shaded

Words to a Mirror

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Will u or won’t u be clearer

I can not see what u depicting

I don’t like the picture u pitching

u picked it..go figure

the pixels are blemished

and it all resembles a mess, I’m a mess

a mosaic of massacres

cracks in the glass make me look like a masochist

and u draw the line

but at this line of scrimmage

I’m tackled for loss

then forget my description

a critic,

that doesn’t like critics

I know-hypocritical

confronting myself, all I hear is crickets

and ribbits…

I hate this exhibit

this hate I exhibit

is because I’m livid

from living with friction

and fiction

and feminine differences

distance

and friendships

I’ve lost, that fall to resistance

my vision gets crippled

I crack up and peer in the ripples

my sweat starts to dribble

then trickle then cycle- ice cycles

reflection gets frigid

I fidget

I feel like I’m fucked up, fuck it, I’m finished

forget it

forget this

too much weight that I bear, I am not fit for forgiveness

my wrongs are like scriptures I’ve written

I’m hungry, I eat whats forbidden

so pride ends up bitten

all I feel is tension

defensive

good riddens

don’t mention

my limits

I hate that u witnessed-

this look! that looked like I swallowed a handful of lemons

and crumbles when talking with women

I’m downing a bottle of Guinness

I drown when I’m swimming

just give me a minute…

I know I don’t make any sense

like proof with out evidence, I mean ever since

I looked right in the mirror, my senses dispensed

I’m numb, what I’m saying-

I needed to vent

put my hand on the mirror but there are no prints

so now I’m convinced

that I am not real, and I’m never content

therefore loving myself will take longer than this

words to the mirror..

Lost Feels

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Why does my hand go thru you every time I try to, touch

why do I always seem to fail every time I try to, love

why do I always feel like I fall when I try to get, up

I don’t know what you feel like anymore

I don’t know what love feels like anymore

I don’t know what up feels like anymore

I don’t know what us feels like anymore..

Paralysis

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Some days I think I fell and must’ve bust my head-

I see stars

never knowing where I stand-

the floors gone

balancing on wobbly legs-

an earthquake

feeling every step is near the ledge-

oops

I never seem to understand-

I’m con-fused

everything you claim to have said-

am I deaf?

only hearing your judgement in my head-

I’m guilty?

makes me wonder what the hell I plead-

no contest it only made me need you less and less-

like weight gain

I think I must’ve fell and bumped my head-

migraines..

waking on the wrong side of the bed-

I’m cranky seeing more of you at my worst times-

feel I’m dizzy you only remind me, of my worst times-

you been busy

listen to you? do you listen to yourself

besides,

how can you help me, if you can’t see that you need help

try lifting me up, I feel buried

say its tough love, but I feel the contrary

everything you say gets contradicted

no wonder I struggle with confidence

using me like condiments

doing things for compliments-

you’re welcome

whats the moral of a story

when you you only tell a morsel of the story

there’s no gift in giving something you don’t want

don’t tell me loss is good,

just to feel you’ve won

damn!

you make me feel I fell and bust my head

I no longer feel my arms and legs-

I’m paralyzed

Professing

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I wish I could find the time,

to tell u that I love u

somehow I can’t find the time,

to tell myself the truth

I’m still a child at times,

so what do I know about love?

but will u be my Valentine,

I can only take u a day at a time.

Bruh, I Get It

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True story

I listened

offering my heart translated through words

presence and attentiveness

watching as his facial features tried remaining masked

but I saw thru the facade

knowing who he was at that moment-

a hurt and broken man,

struggling to hold it all together

though he was none the wiser of my discovery

but I get it

not being able to see his kids

no visits since he’s been locked up

a wife being everything to other men but a wife to him

even though he didn’t have much time to do

but I guess any time gone, is time too long

he knew she lied

she’d asked him how does he know

he responded that he could feel it-

deep in his heart

catching her off guard I’d imagine with such a deep revelation

coming from a man of all things

she told him she just wants to do her

and maybe they will get back together in the future

but he’d had enough

rejecting that offer immediately

knowing the devalue of self that would come from accepting that possibility

but not all love is right

and he’d done enough wrong

her explanation of concealing her deeds was ‘wanting to spare his feelings’ (cold…)

to that, he said

“what feelings?”

I got myself ripped from you and my kids being in this situation

the judge made sure he ensured the void

and you have ended any kind of relationship and marriage that we had

“what feelings?”

and I understood him

poignantly

painfully

a putrid feeling invading my re-collective past similar experience ending at the worst time for me

he said the reason it hurt is because he’s at his lowest

“leave me when I’m high but not when I’m at my lowest, when I can’t fend for myself”

but she reveled in the power she gained from his mistaken departure

not gone a second too soon it seemed

why does love continue to get diluted by power struggles?

his existence was now dark cold isolated and hollowed out

a hole carved inside fragments of what was once a heart

the story went on

and as he vented

I saw his resolve

restraint

and his reserve

I believed that real strength was a mysterious feat harnessed by women at deeper levels than men could ever reach

but seeing this man,

a reflection of myself

trying to hold it together

while speaking truth to his pain

still trying to reason and stay afloat

mmm

powerful!

I admired his will

I kept asking myself when will the dam break?

anticipating tears to spring down his trembling cheeks

I reveled at this moment,

seeing victory in him

no doubt she believed she took his fight

but I seen it brilliantly on his face

staying strong for his kids

and for his mom he just listened to cry

whom was flying in to see her grand babies for the first time

hearing the news of an abrupt change of plans by their mother leaving town

malicious

I began to take it in,

validation

we are more than thoughtless animals,

deserving of cages

though we are convicts,

we are people struggling through life like most

but what I wasn’t prepared for was hearing why he was here

he got a misdemeanor upgraded to a felony for a FIRST TIME OFFENSE DUI- refusal to blow though he consented at the station

this one small lack of judgement caused all of this

he did what most would get diversion or probation for

but he was black

so when he said

“what feelings?”

I understood what he alluded to

saying he lost it all

that he has to carry this the rest of his life

so what more is there to feel?

I get it

damn…

I feel you brotha

upon his face bears the greatest lie

while hiding the hardest truth

but his composure will not wilt like a flower in shade

not matter how dark it gets

strength

I told him that it is all a matter of how you choose to react

see what you’ve lost sight of in the midst of your discomfort

there may lie a gift-

a truth only revealed in despair

what I didn’t tell him is

that I’ve heard this same story countless times over the years

as the years have gone on,

my answers evolved

from being the story

to witnessing the story

now counseling the story

his pain was and still is mine

bruh, I get it

hold ya head solja.