Your feet have no longer stepped along the shiny finish of my floors.
Your smell, no longer seeped into the fabric.
Your awkward presence no longer lingers at the door.
My house is no longer the home you choose to pick.
Your love no longer resting on my bed.
I miss the way your laugh danced around my room,
it loved to kiss my silly head,
the chamber that is now your incarnate tomb.
When you see me, is it still hard to breathe?
When I touch you, does it make you just break down?
Does the way I hug you make it hard to see?
And in the scent of me, you love, you drown?
You're a good actor, fool. Jerk. Dope.
The way you're acting now is prime.
The way you act like I'm not there, that's what you hope.
And how you really cant see me. How I cry, inside.
Take me back, Imbecile!
We can kiss through the dawn.
Passionate love, kiss me unforgivable.
But you can't even love me when I'm gone.
I was there from the time you were born. I stood in
the delivery room, staring down at you before you
could even open your eyes to see me. Your
parents, relatives and doctors couldn’t see me
there, in the corner, watching you with cloudy eyes,
but I was there from the time you were born.
And I followed you home.
I was with you always, your constant companion.
You played with your toys alone while I stared from
all angles in nearby mirrors; my matted, clotted
hair with oily sweat that hung off my dented
forehead like glue. I was always your constant
companion, drifting behind your mother’s car on
your ride to preschool. You alone in the bathroom,
but I was on the other side of the door, wind
whistling through the bruised hole in my throat. My
arms twisted and hanging in their sockets as I
stood hunched on the other side of the shower
curtain. I wait and follow you. I follow and drift
I’m not seen. I’m almost not-there in light. You
never saw me that morning as I sat across from
you at the breakfast table, a shiny red clot hanging
from an empty tooth socket as I gaped grotesquely
at you. I wonder sometimes if you know I’m there. I
think you are aware, but you’ll never understand
just how close I am.
I spend hours of your day doing nothing more than
breathing in your ear.
Breathing – gagging, really.
I crave to be close to you, to always wrap my
crippled arms around your neck. I lie near you ever
single night, cloudy eyes staring at your ceiling,
underneath your bed, at your sleeping face in the
Yes. You caught me staring occasionally. Your
parents came running down to your room one
night when you screamed. You were just beginning
to talk, so you were only able to cry out “Man! Man
in my room!” You thought you’d never forget the
sight of me, with my collapsed jaw hanging to my
chest, swinging back and forth. I sank back into
your closet and your mother was unable to see me
though you pointed and pointed and pointed. You
thought you’d never forget when they left that
same night. You saw the closet door crack so
softly and me crawling across the floor to your bed
on all fours, shambling in jerking movements as I
pushed myself under your bed on disjointed limbs.
You learned a new word for me: boogeyman. Not
quite the monster you thought I was. I’m just
waiting and following you always, touching your
face with my knotted fingers as you sleep.
You’ll see me again soon. Any day now, I’m
coming, blunt and brutal. One day you’ll walk
across the road and – I believe I’ll plow into you
with loud roar and a screech.
You rolling on the pavement, rolling under wheels,
bluntforce metal fenders and my fingers touching
your face again and again.
As you stare up from the cold pavement with
cloudy eyes; your matted, clotted hair hanging in
your face and your jaw unhinged and swinging to
You’ll see me approaching.
No one else will see me. You will stare past them
into my eyes and I’ll leer down at you. For the first
time in our life, something like a smile will come
over my face. You’ll swear you’re looking into a
mirror as clotted red bubbles from our mouths.
I’ll lean down, past the doctors and the oogling
people and pick you up in my crooked arms.
Our faces will touch. My wings will unfurl. And then
you’ll have to follow me.
And I am always with you.
I am your guardian angel.
10 days of hunger
(these are the sounds you make)
You're an excuse
(but we've been through this before)
Do you hear that?
(and this is the sound of something breaking and imbedding)
the knife in the dishwasher, the one they used last night
Do you know what happens if you fail?
(we have been accounted to many nights of no sleep and dire paranoia that I'm filling the room)
(am I lying?)
"When bad things happen
box them up and stick them at the back of your mind."
What happens when the boxes are tearing,
The duct tape is beyond fraying,
There's no room for you
The space is filled to the brim.
Soft light flits through the room
It splays shadows as dancing spirits
Over soft covers, are the shadow's object
Whispering kisses and louder sighs
Enfolded in this dance, is the soft firelight:
the gold of her hair, flashing in movement
in tempo with 'twined hands, with the pull
together, the arching touch, and then the
openmouthed cry: hands clench tight,
mouths meet, and fire flares high
A wet heat, unequaled, until
into each other they fall
Later sleep comes
and the softlight shadows
are cast peaceful
Enfolded in arms
If I was given a day
Or whatever force there may be
It would be with you
In an empty room
and you would speak to me
I would ask no questions
Utter no words
Invisible buttons would be connecting my lips
You would speak of it all
What makes you laugh
Why you're so shy
your weak spots
If you're selfish
what side of the bed you like
hot or cold
sweet or sour
Marvel or DC
I would watch
touseling of thick hair
My heart would grow immensely
Secret. Hobby. Weakness. Preference.
watching your lips move
and your face morph
With every emotion
my heart would reach to you in sorrows
and leap at triumphs
Butterflies would become a typical occurrence
a smile tattooed on my face
that's all I desire
voluntarily trapped in a room
shedding our skin
in no way is that strange
In fact it's beautiful
In the days filled with vacant eyes
Lost in the timid nature of hollow lies
A man was left too corrupt to realize
The exact root of his own demise
Blanketed in the emotions of doom
He forges his self made tomb
Leaving behind a dimly lit room
And the portrait of a family cartoon
4 corners in the peak
of the room, the
choleric teacher has finally
let his guards down over
the wild hysterics, throwing
paper airplanes over heads,
over the pretty-perfect bleach
blonde girls only caring
about that new band,
over the tight glasses hunching
over their spick and span notebooks
over the video-game playing
boys punching keyboards
over the introverted hoody-hiding
kids, over the cynic stoned eye
blooded kids, over the goody-two shoes
filling calculations in the pockets
of their minds.
and i am in between air lines,
drifting like the wind, like they are clouds
curled together whilst boards and
screens shine over them,
and i am sighing, writing poetry,
wishing i was in another place,
wishing i was in a room full of
pages pressing against my soul
and poets lurking eyes of
prose and stanza.
Darkness in a room where I lay forever
Embodied by a world that guarantees
So I'll lift spirits up and ask,
To trap me in a graceful heaven
Created by a simple unconscionable love.
And just as a last thought,
I'll laugh at my nightmare
And I'll strive to never be
A shadow in memories
Behold, she dances in my room at Night
To nocturnal melodies played sweetly
Under the full Moon's rays of pretty light
That dance like the Doll ever so sweetly
She is dancing ever so gracefully
To the piano of pristine beauty
It is she I shall always love to see
For she always loves to dance happily
She is my Enchanted Doll full of love
And I'm glad that I see her in my mind
She's one the Fairies Enchanted above
And I'm glad to see her dance in her mind
She's dancing to the sweetest melody
Happily she's dancing in harmony