The Twins of Despair
The place that we realize that no two can be tethered together.
Who speaks to me in this eternal echo?
I was not born with you but you’ve always been there.
A growth that has gained unwarranted strength.
Feasting on what I do not possess.
But I’ve seen you before, when all other lights go out.
You are incompatible with what I know to be true.
Yet you provide a twisted sense of comfort at too frequent of times.
Our meeting place is at the bottom ledge.
The purity of oblivion.
But you always allow for the blue light to pierce through.
I have found my certainty now.
No longer will I give you power.
I can always visit with you if I want.
We will forever need each other.
But my ability to climb has been unleashed.
You and I think exactly alike, just never at the same time.
About the Creator
David Fournier
I am a writer, poet and performance artist. My whole life I have loved the beauty of words, whether I'm writing them into a narrative or using them to make silly voices. I am poised to publish my first book and kids series.
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We Passed Upon the Stairs
We passed upon the stairs. A radar for a gentle breeze turned on. I looked right. You looked right at me. Deliver to me that which a moment is measured by. Never has tension been so liberating. I turned left. You left the turning point. Perhaps if I listen to the vibrations that feed me I will gain a new sense of hunger. For retracing my steps will only leave a deeper and more permanent mark. There is a divide that must be chosen. One road will force my hand with unbridled determination. The other road will always keep an ear open for time’s answer. Snap back to that vertical convergence. What if I looked left? How many roads would be open and how many would be shutdown? You can see the future best through the peripheral.
By David Fournier3 years ago in Poets
When the Robots Took My Job
This is for RM Stockton's Write Club prompt for the month of April: AI Please allow me to vent. For "college," I went to a scam school that is now closed. We were promised internships that were never spoken of again after admissions, and we were promised help finding jobs. The first time I went to the career counselor's office, she was completely frazzled. She had no idea what to do with us, the film majors. The second time I visited her office, I let her know that I'd found myself a job, and she was visibly relieved.
By Rebekah Conard6 days ago in Journal
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