i. let the flower crumble in my hands
my hand moved of its own violation
no petals just fine powder
ill make a new lipstick to wear

ii. i take my coffee with chocolate now
my hard liquor with water
down my wine like a shot

iv. these festering bugs are my halo
muddy feet to mark the path to avoid
good nights rest in a cesspool

iii. jaw popping like a *****’s gone lose
if i cut my tongue off today
i know it'll grow back twice as long

v. red in my pocket and it's not even blood

I whisper to myself
no, I write to myself
cause the clack of keys
is a sound unreadable...

                 "let me be ugly"

Im a plant
too much sun and I wither
too much shade I wilt
keep me by the window where you work
where the morning sun is filtered through blinds
where you wont always be
but will be consistently enough
place me where you forget me
but remember just enough to smile and water me

I am a succulent
not a hardy cactus
but a rosette
too much attention
too little attention
a drop of water at the wrong time
and im dying
then gone

people say they are
nothing more than traits and behaviors
taken from others
like it makes them unreal
is that not all we are
borrowed pieces from
everything/everyone we’ve ever known
putting together the puzzle pieces
with no guidance no box art
till the thing you created is

You

-many parts combined into an original whole
-inspired and influenced by everything

a sorrow all consuming
swallowing my limbs
rendering me still
for now
till it spits me back up
and rests
while I make up for lost time
to do all i can do to
move a little farther away
before it swallows me once more

by what unit is good enough measured
is it the calluses and cuts on a hand
the crack of a sore back
or by the number of times
skin meets pavement

is it an neglected apartment
the dust collecting on beloved projects
or number of friends
no longer waiting for a reply

tell me
to whom do you bottle your blood for
till when do you wash the sweat off
for what do you owe this pain
so where is the limit

              will I/they ever be satisfied
  
                         can i take a break yet
                or is this not good enough

i will sit on a mantle of my own making
sip on wine I made myself
wear a gown of my own inspiration
pluck the crown from the mud at my feet
walk with the knowledge of my deeds
I will no more abandon my thrown
as small and neglected as it is
it will grow with me and i with it

Purple at the edges of the sky
Bleeding into strands of tide
Moves to where your eyes abide
When lips divide
In essence of the line
...Cool beans

i took a walk in the rain
found paths turned to streams
and crossed before the eyes
of those hiding from the rain

i might have dropped my body
in the running waters
on my way back

my heads so full of air
with no body to pull me down
i'm stuck floating away

you have a soft face
and a breakneck smile
seen one way
only to turn and be another
fractile and shifting
like a prism of a million cuts
get used to one color
shift to 100 others
you see the rainbows all around
and claim they come from others
                
               in the wrong lighting
               prisms are colorless

my body craves joy
for that I surround myself
  
             I. in bright colors and chances
             in hopes I can catch them
             when I’m ready
  
             II. in false flora and sturdy plants
             that stay even when i dont
             that thrive even when I wont
  
i keep a fan blowing
on me at all times
so that I remember
what movement feels like

I never felt more alive -more free
then I did on that night summers drive
we drove for an hour on a mere whim
to a place I used to live
a place so full of
isolation
-of disgusted faces and sharp judging eyes
-of seasons changing from a single window
-of holding onto what little you could
-of learning how to live without

as I drove with windows down
your hand riding the wind outside
nothing looked the same
nothing had changed

I parked in a cornfield on the same road of my grandmas old farm
and we spun in circles in the middle of the road
listening to our brand of music from tinny phone speakers
I guess we must have driven a bit too far
to have seen the name of another state on the screen

you poisoned the tree
now eat its rotting fruit
the maggots in your stomach
must eat

reaching deep down in
grime between your nails, between your fingers
trying to reach all the way down but
your arm doesnt reach/ your arm doesnt reach/ your arm doesnt–
but you still reach
because there has to be something within your reach
instead, something reaches you
your arm is no longer there
a jagged toothed thing took it away
  
…
  
you reach in with your other arm

life is a poorly designed game
too much dead space
loading screens that last all night
unskippable cutscenes
irrelevant boss fights and tasks
no cheat codes
and the story has no direction
where is the fast forward in my life
i am in the between of everything
can i play my life
like I play video games
grinding through obstacles
till i reach the next level and the next cutscene
can i skip to the main storyline of my life
all that waits for me here
is cutting down monsters
till im strong enough to fight the boss

me: the embodiment of wind
in that it ceases to exist
at a standstill
as if forced to become a solid
refusing to keep form

[nothing of me settles
not even my stomach
and certainly not my mind
hounding me like hell
if hell had too many eyes
and a scent like sleepless]

in day: the oceans breath in
at night: the land breaths out

I started a poetry reading podcast! Simple where I read my own poetry, have my friends read theirs sometimes, and maybe do some fun impromptu poetry!

https://anchor.fm/galemccoy

Ep.1 & Ep.2 is out! My podcast is available on: Anchor. Spotify. Google Podcasts. Breaker. Radiopublic. PocketCast. And soon more!

you spit dead flowers at me
they spill from between your teeth
I put them between the pages of a book
one I’ve only read once

if you had a mouth full of fresh flowers
I wouldn’t have stopped to listen
isn’t it fascinating
to see the decay in the veins of a petal

one day you’ll spit your last petal
will you replace them
or let new ones grow from the dead
I guess I’ll find out
with a new book in hand

I had a dream
where I had a sodalite heart
a precious stone that looks as if
earth was flooded and shrunk
only a few greenish-brown islands could be seen
white clouds swirled over the rough waters
a storm in the making
in the dream
I lost my heart
leaving a hole in my chest
where flowers had been growing
fed with the waters of the sodalite heart
to keep them from wilting
I looked everywhere
under my bed
in my clothes hamper
I asked my cat
and I asked the mirror
no one else was around to help
meaning no one had been there to steal it
I must have left it somewhere
or dropped it along the way
in my dream
I found the heart
laying on the ground
before the foot of the door
when I woke up I remembered
the sodalite heart I had bought last summer
I lost it within that very week
I knew exactly where I laid it
but it was never there
or anywhere

despair
its happening more and more
i invited it in
not expecting it to stay
but it set its luggage down and laughed
“i never stay less than forever”
i dont have what it takes to accommodate it
ive already run out of supplies
i cant afford anything more
but its still here
it still is demanding more
and more
and more
and i have to take from myself
i dont have much left to give
it doesnt take no for an answer
gods i wish it was just me myself and i
and not me and despair and nothing at all

they spoke of a future
full of hopefuls and maybes
their voices are soft in awe
pitched and fast
with frequent pauses
inventing what could be
laughing like it can never happen
laughing like its nothing serious
laughing like they haven’t dreamt
every night of this
and that to admit is like admitting
a guilty little secret