it was never the beginnings which frightened me
nor the ends (they were almost a breath of fresh air)
it was the middle
the chaos and the panic
the uncertainty and the fear
the idea that this could be forever, or no longer, or sometime, or tomorrow
the middle with the lull
the dull, the calm
the quiet, the serene
i am waiting for the other shoe to drop
a pebble in the ocean, you barely hear it
but it falls all the same
the middle with the muddy puddles
the light rain
the thunderstorm
waiting
the beginnings- the light
the end- the dark
the in-between - muggy, opaque,
anything could happen.
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 4:01 AM UTC
i bought a bird in a cage
with the intention to set it free
i hung the cage on the tree
and opened the door wide
the bird looked at me
and did not move
i sat there, it sat there
we sat there
for hours
the wind came in and out
bugs went in and out
the cage swung
the bird waited
it did not move
i coaxed it out
with promises of berries and leaves
it left the cage
and sat on the floor
still
still it did not move
it sat on the floor
and waited
i waited
it waited
we waited
the crows gathered
circling the little bird
waiting for me to leave
so they could seize the opportunity
but i waited
it waited
they waited
we waited
the bird hopped
it hid in bushes
it climbed on a branch
it looked at me
still
still it did not fly
it began to get dark
the crows got closer
it was time for dinner
for me
for it
for them
the bird looked at me
coaxed me with fear and love
to let it back in the cage
i let it go back
i closed the door
it was safe
it was still
it was home
he had never learnt how to fly
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 2:58 PM UTC
Home is not welcoming.
Home does not want me here;
It allows me to live under its roof but
It will not let me forget.
Home is shame;
It is fear and guilt and regret.
It is the sound of
“You could do better”
And
“You are not enough”
Home stays still
It tells you to stay with it
In a way that your body won’t allow
You are squirming in place
About to burst, staying still.
Home has changed
It wasn’t always like this
It has silenced;
Poisoned our roots
And cut our wings.
Home is Home.
Your place of return.
It is safe under here
Protecting you from
The Outside World.
Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 4:12 AM UTC
i'm tracing my history and i realize that it all adds up
always being told that i'm crazy but
they never had all the pieces to the puzzle and
i didn't know that i did either but
i found some lying in the back room and
i put it together so that the puzzle was complete and
it all makes sense
i'm tracing my history and i realize that it all adds up
Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 9:44 AM UTC
Black Lilacs
blooming -
a blossoming
of grief -
dark fallen pollen
on the breeze -
I can see it falling
all around me -
there on the wall
for us to see -
April will be
the cruelest of them all.
Apr 4, 2020
Apr 4, 2020 at 4:04 AM UTC
the dogs bark
you tell me to silence them
the birds sing
you tell me to silence them
the wind yowls
you tell me to silence it
the earth cries
you tell me to silence it
Apr 4, 2020
Apr 4, 2020 at 4:03 AM UTC
new york
gayness
academia
another life
that could be mine
Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 9:41 AM UTC
i write
but not really
i'm a poet
but not really
somewhere between broken hearts
and putting them back together
i forgot how to pick up the pen
i was so busy piecing myself back together that
i forgot how to put pieces of a sentence together
it doesn't hurt to write and
i want to scream but
there is a calm dull throbbing silence
i write
but not really
i'm a poet
but not really
i think you have to bleed to write
i stopped bleeding when i ran out of blood
i think you have to cry to write
i stopped crying when i ran out of tears
sometimes i wish i was broken again
because this silence isn't much better and
screaming felt good and
not having the words feels worse.
you have to be in touch with your emotions to write poetry
i am not in touch with my emotions
i write
but not really
i'm a poet
but not really
Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 9:39 AM UTC
there is poverty
in the
smell of ***
a hidden guilt: shame.
***** towels
10 rupee soap.
tissues in the trashcan.
we cannot afford
the sterilization
of intimacy.
cannot clean nor claim our space.
roam room to room;
poverty to poverty.
carrying our stench
and shame.
Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 6:59 AM UTC