Haze

Do you even know what it feels like to want to disappear?

You approach me through this distant doorway; my drink is low.

I fill the glass, gazing into the distorted brandy waves here,

because even the stars in God's sky have lost their glow.

The sun beams come in on this morning like every morning,

and like yesterday, you tell me about the dust it illuminates.

I cannot comprehend it, or what feeling it could be conjuring,

and I have woke for a long time without waking; it eliminates.

You ask me questions in this house full of melting candles,

wax that drips down the banister, dark wood shadowed by demons.

My tea cups shatter with my grip, leaving just the handles,

because for all these years they sat aging, without any reasons.

In the drunken haze that the 'antidote' gave quite awhile ago,

this voice I have been using seems to be using me instead.

Do you stand there because of what you are too anxious to show?

I have to ask & have to know, because it will not leave my head.

Author's Note

(An. Smyr.)

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I loved your new poems. They are get down and dirty words and thoughts. I liked this poem. Made the reader feel the thoughts and the regrets.
"You ask me questions in this house full of melting candles,
wax that drips down the banister, dark wood shadowed by demons.
My tea cups shatter with my grip, leaving just the handles,
because for all these years they sat aging, without any reasons."
The above lines were my favorites. Left the reader with something to think about. Worthwhile and amazing poetry dear friend.
Coyote

[Diane]

I like it. Kinda like quick sand (sinking deeper in to the poem). As soon as I started reading it was hard to stop.

[Alessander]

Love "distorted waves of brandy" and the image or broken teacups and handles.

Most of the imagery seems to center around fragility and transience (dust motes)

Which points back to the first line, how to disappear completely.

[Brett Hernan]

I'm with you on this (and all of) Anna Marie's poetry, Coyote!
What an insightful reflection upon the interplay of human understanding in relation to the individual and their self perceived position within this universe in relation to that of another!
The powerful metaphor of exploding teacups, with its eerily, poltergeistical sub-text raises the spiritual implications elementally, to a degree of iconoclasm, which is an element of language-image imprinted upon my verbal and visual memory, unforgettably.
I really admired your device of immediately creating for the reader a distancing of such a great volume of time by taking up the setting of a night ago, the next morning and by doing this by taking the reader from the night before immediately at the commencing line of your poem's second stanza.
This transition, in only a split-second, contextualises and establishes profoundly that time distance by introducing the element of 'every morning' perfectly.
It's an honour to view and to be able to share with both you, Anna Marie, and with others, these thoughts upon your exasperatingly refreshing poetically rendered expressions of emotional thought.
I feel as though a special secret has been let out to a lucky few both in and through the reading of this piece.
Thank you for it.