The pool in my backyard has turned green,
and not the kind of green you write poetry about.
It's not a vibrant, spring fling green,
but a murky and tiresome green.

It's not the kind of green you write poetry about,
for it doesn't flow freely in the breeze.
It does not represent freedom, nor nature,
or anything in between.

It's still, it's stagnant, it's gripping and mean,
a green you don't want growing in your heart,
a green that will consume and tear you apart,
a green you won't write poetry about.

My pool has turned a menacing green,
that rattles my brain and keeps me awake,
that floods my thoughts with each breathe I take,
and defiles my soul everyday.

My pool has turned an unforgettable green,
that rots and haunts all of my dreams.

long enough
you’re going to get burned

No one comes out clean
except a stillborn

If I disturb you
unnerve you
then I’ve done something

First chance you blew it
Second you threw it
Do you want me to chase after you?
Cuz honey I won’t do it

They say be scared of funerals
Because the wooden box traps beasts.
I say what is one funeral compared to the whole
Graveyard in my heart in which I so carefully lowered my memories,
Packed them like sardines, their skeletons grinding bones to dust,
Crunching sounds you can only hear
If you get close enough to smell the decay.

It's all just numbers, isn't it?
Day by day,
Year by year,
Always counting.

Day by day look at the number on the scales.
Let the caloric calculator count until your head is filled with numbers.

Minute by minute count the seconds it takes for him to text you back.
Let the doubt and fear multiply until your head is full of him.

Term by term let a percentage on a piece of paper define your worth.

Don't we have better things to do than count?