I apologize
For all the times
I wring my hands
In worry
And ask you
What I have done
Wrong, with eyes
Reddened and blurry
I seem to lack
The skill to see
The truth from these
Illusions,
Entrammled in
The mire of
My agonized
Delusions.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 8:50 PM UTC
The holidays masquerade as
simple and sweet,
the affectionate smell
of freshly baked cookies,
melted chocolate and
a minty breeze,
The fantasy of something white,
and lights, lights
so many lights.
But up close it's
nothing more than
tension, poorly masked
by contrived small talk.
No politics.
No religion.
And don't talk about anything
that matters.
Guilt at the pit of my stomach,
in a small room
with too many people,
too many inauthentically polite people.
And a clock,
A clock that won't stop ticking
for just a moment,
to let me breathe.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
She throws her "I love you's"
out in the world like
it's a simple hello.
Often and careless like
gum on the sidewalk.
She mutters them
with every goodbye
as I shuffle in my seat.
"I.." "you too."
I keep my "I love you's"
hidden in my jacket pocket,
even when I mean it
and she doesn't.
They're locked behind stammers
and stutters,
and strange insecurities.
I keep my "I love you's,"
So few.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 3:17 AM UTC
These days
are lying in bed
until the feeling passes,
walking with you,
half listening,
constantly searching
for a moment
I can ******
for a chance to
tell you,
to try to tell you.
These days
are using
earbuds and novels
like an invisibility cloak,
or rather an attempt
to drown it all out.
These days
I'd rather be
alone in a group.
These days
I cling to your
every word
and I apologize
for all of mine.
These days
I don't know
what I want
or who I am
but I'm sorry.
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
They tell me to write about love,
but I'm not sure I know
what that is.
Is it the warm feeling,
the soft sigh listening to
the smooth sounds of Sinatra,
or is it the insane laughter,
the inability to wipe the smile
from my face,
when I'm with you.
Is it the in between moments,
just noticing,
noticing the quiet, lovely things,
the silence that isn't
all that silent
Maybe, but
It surely isn't the
feeling of home or
the prayers to God,
or the shouts of rage,
the obligations,
or the "have-to's"
If its love because
it's supposed to be,
because you should,
then I don't want it.
I don't want that "love"
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
Empty.
Nothing,
less than nothing.
But only
a faint cowardice,
the inescapable fear
that glues me to the sheets
that will not be
stained red, today.
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 4:17 AM UTC
Each day so drastic,
One marked by
sweet, soothing hot cocoa
dripping with white foam
and twists and turns
of enthusiasm rooted
in my stomach
The other,
preyed on by
the overbearing abyss
of poisonous thoughts
dressed in satin and lace
And now the start of a new day,
the sun still tucked away
for hours to come,
perhaps hiding from
the vile thoughts
of the dark sky
It's everything,
but it's nothing.
I'm nothing,
I'm nothing.
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 4:12 AM UTC
It is the season of
wiggly toes in wool socks,
witty novels and obscure films,
raindrops,
silver against the night sky,
And despite the crisp air,
an overwhelming feeling
of warmth.
It is the season of
warm feelings
that have no objective,
but only,
to feel warm
when my toes
meet yours
in a lucky accident.
Small secret moments,
no more real
than in my heart
and in my head.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC
Lost in space,
among the stars and planets,
constantly aware
of the intense black sky,
all-encompassing,
and forever,
but not forever,
not really.
More of a forever
than any "forever"
to leave the lips of
a love sick boy or girl,
confessing their undying love,
or a mother or father,
with broken promises
of unconditional love,
or a friend,
a very good friend,
who can never live up to
a forever friendship.
More of a forever
than any fathomable forever,
but not forever,
not really.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
i don't watch home movies
hate them
reason being because
when i was young
i was looking for a movie
my mother
had recorded for me
and accidentally
put one in the vcr
that i'm not sure
i was supposed to see
i know the obvious response
*"uh oh, ****
sorry to disappoint
they were only marked with dates
1991
on live television
montel williams asks my father
*"how can you just throw
your child away like a piece of trash?"*
1994
i spend so much time
in the emergency room
that my parents stop
penciling in growth marks
on the frame
of my bedroom door
i always thought
it was because they believed
i would never grow out
of this sickness
sometimes i believe
the reason that they
never bought me a dream catcher
was because they never thought
i'd live long enough
to see them come true
1996
i am eliminated
from a spelling bee
because i didn't know
the 'dad' is silent in 'family'
2013
before i got into poetry
i used to do standup
none of my jokes were funny
one of the other comics
tells me my skits are dry
sometimes sad
he says *"why don't you joke
about something like your family?"*
so i say
*"i never wore any sunblock
because i didn't want anything
to keep me from my father"*
i say *"what do you call christmas
without lights or heat?"*
before he has a chance
to answer
i say *"1997. better yet
why don't you
make like a dad and
leave"*
2014
every time we drive
past the hospital
my mother reminds me
how much it cost to save my life
like she'd rather
have her money back
she doesn't have to say
that sometimes she wishes
it was me who had died
instead of my brother
i can hear it in the way
she says "love you"
sometimes i imagine
that if i were to die
that she
would pick out a casket for a child
because she never loved
the person i became
yesterday i told my father
how close i'd been
to suicide lately
and he said
*"that's my boy,
livin on the edge.."*
and i can't remember
if i laughed
or cried
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC