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Sean Caszatt

of

Sharpsville, PA, US

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Fragile Heart

by

Sean Caszatt

I swore I could smell you today
The shells all burst around me
I'm not well, I said...to myself
Yes, I am, I replied

The handcuffs are on
I swing, dirty and lost
Whites of my eyes are all you see
As I visit oblivion

Nepenthe, Nepenthe
If you cut me, I won't bleed
I'll just cry again
Based on a true story.

Sleep, child, visit happy places.
Don't wake up, don't look in the mirror.
You'll still be here.
I know I can smell you this time.


Stain

by

Sean Caszatt

There is a stain there.
How'd that happen?
Don't ask, you don't want to know
What I do at night.

Feel like me for awhile
And informercials become your friends
Don't be scared, I won't hurt you
Yet.

Blank paper, with lines, ain't blank
like my mind is now.
No ideas just
A stain.


Gone (You Were)

by

Sean Caszatt

Lying face down on the floor.
Gone in a misty, hazy kind of thinking.
I caught sight of my ending love as
It smiled and then turned to leave.

Who engineered this plan for me?
Riding off again into the battlefield,
Pushing and shoving to view the same discarded meat,
Knowing full well that I'll wake alone.

Finding out that I'm getting older.
Not finding anyone who can relate to me.
I let them in now, that's not the problem.
They just don't want to stay.

You were here one time and you never returned.
God, how I miss what you once were.


Black Comedy

by

Sean Caszatt

The black arts I learned from my father
The ninjitsu of remaining invisible for days
On "fishing trips" with "friends from work,"
He sat at the bar with women I didn't know.

The compulsive procrastinator put off his love.
Schooled me in how to do the same.
"How to take something beautiful and make it scream."
Learning by example. My dad, the Jedi master.

Dad explained that he didn't love mom
And slipped me an official assassin's jumpsuit
And a handful of emotional time bombs.
He kissed me on the cheek and welcomed me.

For so long, I've waited to prove his lessons wrong.
To show that I would outgrow his teachings.
No disgrace in emotion, no problem with commitment.
How wrong I've become, how naive the child.

As I felt your skin beneath calloused fingertips,
Tracing your spine, your hips, your breasts.
Your eyes, pure grey, reflected my training.
For all I've given, got and want

Your breathing, whispering through my armory,
As I plant the charges and smell the shame.