when I grow up I—
when I’m grown up, I want to
build a time machine
- c.c.d.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 2:50 AM UTC
i’m not talking about “fake smiles”
the kinds that cover up sadness and grief
they are easy to spot and recognize
(they stand out,
ironically, like a mask)
especially if you, yourself
have experienced sadness or grief
i’m talking about the appearance(s)
physical,
like the almost unnoticeable circles under your eyes
or the way you wear your hair
social,
like the day after
you didn’t show up at school
or work
or anywhere
mental,
you stopped smiling
or, at least,
when no one was watching
me,
you avoided
me.
why?
me.
if we live in a world
where everything we do is controlled by
sadness
grief
fear
then why are we even here?
I guess everything is
illusory
masquerading
as alive
- c.c.d.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 2:38 AM UTC
procrastination
“this toothpaste is way too strong!”
no. I am too weak.
- c.c.d.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 1:57 AM UTC
I knew no different
than to be diffident
it was all I had
all I could grasp in my mind’s hand
the earth shook
and I did too
clinging to anything that reminded me of home
because I knew wholeheartedly
no matter how tough of an act I put on
up there, on the stage
I was scared
I am scared
I will always be scared
words cling to the inside of my throat
because it is all they have before
they are gone forever
lost in a sea of vowels and consonants
- c.d.d.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 1:41 AM UTC
behind the curtain
frozen head and fading pulse
lines slow to a stop
- c.c.d.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 2:34 AM UTC
the gray horizon looms ahead
pebbly shorelines with yellowy sand
a gloomy gull walks alone
for sadness he has long since known
a dot of white against the beach
his empty home is hard to reach
a thorny nest of string and branch
since gull’s abode has to withstand
the hungry breeze and angered seas
the rain, the birds, and tipsy trees
yet through it all he makes it home
saturnine smile and lunch in tow
- c.c.d.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 2:12 AM UTC
there’s a million worlds right in front of me
twirling, surging, spinning, and extinguishing
like a hopeless flame; **** they’re gone forever
right before my eyes
these worlds also sometimes collide
they fight with everything they have to keep fighting
but it’s never enough
I reach my hand out
so, so gently like a daydreamer’s sigh
in the fleeting chance I might hold one
but the only chance I have is gone; extinguished
my mother’s call is telling me to go now
but my own call tells me to stay
in the fleeting chance I might hold one,
I close my eyes, open my palm to the sky and
there’s
nothing.
nothing.
nothing.
nothing.
I don’t know how, but I think those tiny worlds
those twirling, surging, spinning things
aren’t just extinguishing with the breeze;
they’re running, twirling
as fast as they can
fighting with all they have
to escape my grasp
so I leave,
deciding that I’ll return tomorrow
in the fleeting chance I might hold one.
- c.c.d.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 1:44 AM UTC