"Pull me closer".
I'd breathe deep.
Pull her in.
Stroke the bare skin of her
hips and ease into an effortless
night dream
with tingling
fingers and lingering
inhalations that come a dime a dozen.
Not coming close to
equating to the same
in time grazing around.
~Tina Meeks
I've been lifted and put onto a lily pad
Floating on the modest sea, and all I want to do is
dilly dally and pretend
that I'm confident in this layer of skin but really,
I'm new here.
You're here.
We are virgins to the experience and it blurs before my eyes.
For the sea has taken us both, literally.
We are shipwrecked now to a place that never sinks
And a place that rarely anchors to the sandy bottom beneath.
She's got no anchor, she just gets sleepy.
She's whatever she needs to be for the time being.
She's a moment to fall for and harbor.
She will make you crave her here and now.
She knows how sexy it is when she floats and catches the waves.
This mermaid
has a destiny of wanderlust and chemistry dreams.
Playing games with my recollections and wonderings,
and longings.
And all I wanted was the Evangelical details of her walls and laughs,
and the shapeshifting nature of her varying degrees.
~Tina Meeks
Recently, I've been running away from my own feelings,
and afraid to sit with them.
So, instead,
I taper and cater
the moments to something else.
Being in the moments feel wrong.
In which case, drifting back to what once was
makes sense to grasp how
I'm going to get to the next place.
I'm just lost.
Staring out into the darkness and chartreuse
of greenery to recap on how
I got all of these wilted leaves.
I thought I was shaded from the things that once hurt me.
Turns out
now I'm jaded, started drinking again,
and I'm still thirsty.
~Tina Meeks
Spitefully repressing sad boy tendencies of a heartbreak
in a hotel.
Where'd you go?
Another Love, long lasting after I began to Fall Into You and your poetic currents,
waving me in.
Reluctantly, I followed, allowing myself to get whiplash with
your Lightspeed changes in vocal fluctuations
and confidential instrumentals during the Evening in Summer.
"You fucking got to be Kidding Me"
We were just about to Get Down with our backs Against the Bottom of the Bottle.
Fullest throttle, throwin' melodic Shreds, mixed into our own Scar Gardens.
Ima tell you, both my feet are Planted and hope that the fact that you Won't Answer, isn't Irreversible.
~Tina Meeks
I feel as though I am a delicate canvas that is easy to puncture.
I am nothing short of ambivalence and painted layers of conjuncture.
My passions try to trace themselves over on the paper before me,
yet the ink just bleeds
and it's up to my blurring vision to focus and rely on the competency of me.
With hiccup cries being held back behind the pillows of my bed at night
and the light
of a Himalayan salt lamp to illuminate me in the darkest moments that I dread to possess.
Within every word pressed
between these pages,
and micro confessions of the darkest sensations
and tendencies that have themselves standing up against me.
The only form of defense that is grappling, are the moments when I face it head on and
tolerate the discomfort of my demons until we are comfortable as friends and I can redeem.
And maybe we're all fearful of the same things
and have a hard time putting them into words that are lucid and self-reflective perfectly
enough to be unique to the self and mitigate through.
~Tina Meeks
My absence has been abundantly away
from the pen and pad.
The last real me time, when was that?
Lost moments and the time away
was like a dream I've never had
and glad it's over.
It's time to dip back in with freshly washed fingers
-and my hands are clean.
There is much that I have yet to whisper
to the book of patience and divine opportunity.
I'm here for the stories and hear
the cracking tiles from other sides
of the pages that have yet to fully turn.
Glance them, I do, prematurely.
My eagerness approaches with hopes
to intertwine immediately in case
of trouble rising like steam.
Yet here we are in this moment
of empty lines disappearing before my eyes
with very little shared.
Sorry, but this collection is mine.
So, try as you may to see through me
but my transparency remains
translucent for now
until I no longer feel like opaque
chipped away paint,
forging keeping my feces contained
in a dainty box
in a cool and dry place.
~Tina Meeks
I've been actively avoiding you and
I'm sorry about that.
Maybe my hand can't keep up with my brain
or the other way around.
I've been feeling tired
and seeking adventure at the same time.
My pocket is shrinking.
I'm sinking
in my seat.
-Feet, planted
leering defeat.
Mental upkeep,
overdue.
Who am I kidding?
Thought streams are seething
and soon to take flight,
fleeting by.
My shadow whispers to keep me on a swivel
and the bags under my eyes accompany
the darkness rolling in.
~Tina Meeks
