Stories of My Soul

A Winter’s Road

In a winter’s glow
fantasies of perfect families
are either side of me.

Always on the same road,
alone.
I wonder, about true love,

Or any other kind, heart
broken and lonesome
fantasies disappear.

As I imagine my knight in 
shining armour, I think I 
may have disappeared too.

The only way to me
is giving up on the notion of
perfection.

No one is brave enough,
No one is curious enough,
No one loves me enough.

Suddenly, I know, the only
person coming for me,
is me.

- L.J. Lenehan -

Beautiful photo of Prizren, Republic of Kosovo captured by HD Nature…  https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=454789204580669&set=a.389755164417407.84880.389737734419150&type=1&theater

Dishevelled Soul

Disconnecting from my soul, inside a bathroom stall:

the nine by eleven spins, out of control, somewhere

the real me thinks about a way to show up in the world.

Lower, and lower, and lower, and lower I go, until

there is no where left to go. Waves of anxiety

cognizance reminds me of what life used to be.

Comatosed in a passionless, excitementless desert

full of defunct tiresome clans, sluggishly wading

through a breathless uninteresting existence.

Deep breath in, I force myself out of the bathroom stall,

dishevelled, uninspired, dead woman walking,

exhale, maybe tomorrow will be better, maybe.

-L.J. Lenehan-

Photograph by Radovani Image https://www.facebook.com/pages/Radovani-Image/389870901056548?fref=pb

Future Curiosity

A psychic, an authentic horror of the soul knowing
psychic, spoke of superficial occurrences, I already knew, 
stopping short before something meaningful
was said.

Alone with my thoughts, by myself, without help

my brain tells me to go but it is probably

wrong

suffering, because of destructive actions, chitchat

in the hallway, suggests it was my fault

anyway

friends in the wings lose their memory:  about all

the words they agreed needed speaking so

badly

tears of frustration flow from out of no where

my head throbs, judge and jury sit before me

belittling

a waking nightmare that I cannot speak, no words,

but it is not true, I can speak, but no one can hear

me

- L.J. Lenehan 

In each other’s dreams
we finally met
as if by fate,
our souls knew 
the destiny of man and wife.

In each other’s arms
we are perfection.

Cobwebs remind me, 
of everything,
that has happened,
that needs to be done,
that could happen,
that I’m waiting to find out.

Eight legged web spinners
vacant from the house,
every time I dust

My big empty heart,
marketed as a fool,
my life lost in despair. 
I hoped for something different
to my mothers.

Heaviness on my chest,
like a compress of death.
Waiting for that moment,
that hour,
that I might breathe again.

- L.J. Lenehan -