That Which Gets in the Way

By A. M. Langston

That Which Gets in the Way is the second poetry collection from American writer A.M. Langston and his third literary release. These poems were born out of a period in which the author faced deep depression. It is a dark, no holds barred confessional that takes the reader along on a ride to rock bottom and back. There are four parts to this collection, each one a milestone in the emotional journey. Part one reflects a struggle between depression, motivation, and inspiration. Part two showcases the beginning of progress up out of the pits of Langston's soul. Parts three and four are full steam poetry and haikus.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. M. Langston
• Release date: Oct 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781393228189

A. M. Langston

A. M. Langston is a restless millennial searching for meaning inside the wires and waves that make up the technology surrounding us during our every waking minute. Born in Illinois in 1988 and raised across the United States, he has called New Mexico home since 2004. "Couch to Couch, Never Leaving the House", Langston's first poetry collection, was published on June 21st, 2017.

Book preview

Part One

one.pm

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who all walks with thee on foreign land,

oh, holy one?

none of us.

our hands and heads ache

we dare not leave our lives behind

because we fear mortal men, unlike you.

i trample not on road nor grass in europe.

not with thee.

two.pm

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words play no part in aiding

but they, the tallest ones, bind them

and mount them on tower walls

under the rifle i used.

three.pm

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once you get to a certain point down the tunnel

there's a physical manifestation of your emotion

the spirits knotted a rope around the back

of my eyes

and pull them through my spine

the rope constantly gives and takes down

the back of my neck

for me

the pain is missing expected landmarks

how i'll never get to say goodbye

as they do in fiction.

there will be no madrid

i think most of us don't get to say goodbye, though.

four.pm

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there is no getting it out

it does not come out

you can open small windows

across the globe

but nothing gets to leave

the room.

five.pm

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i should have proposed

deep in a glowing sea foam forest.

someplace where sunlight shines

through leaves

but doesn't breach completely.

there should have been running water nearby

and flowers

but i proposed in our loft near downtown

albuquerque.

a course was plotted and i deviated.

it makes me weak to think of all

the special things i've taken away from her

because of my weak will.

this is my doing

but some part of her also yanks on the

thick rope out the back of my skull.

my tears are stolen by that rope

trickle down it

wet her hands

they slip

my soul drops off a cliff to its death

in a vast brown garbage dump

six.pm

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what would be empty spaces between

rotting trash

icebergs in the gray slush

I am being pulled deeper into

ice bergs I smack and gash

the crown of my head on

between those horrific chunks

in what should be empty space

where i could draw breath 

is instead a greasy, drying tar

so thick it fills my mouth

the pull of my lungs

gasping for air in death

can't pull that tar deeper down my throat.

i chew it

because what else is there to do

as the goo

in which i float

expands my cheeks

pins my tongue

of course I vomit

of course I bleed

of course I don't escape

seven.pm

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i know you dont mean to lie

but you lie

i lie too, though i mean not to

as well

it is difficult to think your thoughts

as well as speak them clearly

difficult to not lie

yes, it hurts

the both of us

when only one of us fails to express our Truth.

but we're just young cats

biting each one another until someone yelps.

we'll never see reality

and never learn how to speak Truth.

eight.pm

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drenched in tears, i choose to shoot myself

but i must respect life

not be hasty

i want one more pipe

one more coffee

more poems

to hug my wife

(its been a while since i've had a good hug from her)

so i'll