Every time I think I've escaped,
It's triumph and bittersweet
figs
I don't enjoy the taste
but I've grown accustomed
to holding my breath and swallowing
but the aftermath is
so strong
it burns down my throat
and it leaves a hole
one that grows
and continues to
even after it's been digested
i can't swallow anymore
my lungs fill up
and I feel like I'm drowning
but I can't stop drinking
I can't stop thinking
about you.
In my mind there is torrential downpour
sorrow and empty fields
whispers of maybes
and overripe fruit
I wish it hadn't ended
in a way outside my mind
I wish I still starved myself for your affection
I wish my hunger was obsequiated
in your love
and touch
and presence.
You're gone
but you echo through every corner of my soul.
There you'll lie
even if the rest of your legacies are for naught.
Please,
stay there.
A skeleton so sweet
with decomposing flesh I
cannot find it in me to let go of.
Oct 12, 2022
Oct 12, 2022 at 3:31 PM UTC
what is a world in which we cannot die in peace?
i think many times
in a day
many of the thoughts are whispers
the shouts wonder
postulate about a world in which
chemical signals didn't tether me to other bags of flesh
and make me think of their response
to my bag of flesh decomposing
then again a shout is
egocentric
commanding attention
in the same way a disappearance does
the absence of a treasure
is always noticed
whether in an art museum
or a homeless man's bag.
Oct 8, 2022
Oct 8, 2022 at 3:18 PM UTC
walk towards the future with neither doubt nor direction.
Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 4:28 PM UTC
I've heard many poets wish for a grand death.
One where the waves of the sea
knock the living breath from their pipes.
Or where a hurricane
sweeps them off their feet.
Maybe I'm a little different
from other poets.
It isn't the chaos of the earth that calls me.
It has always been the inviting quiet,
and her sultry eyes
beckoning arms
and sweet lies.
Because I often find myself thinking
about how grand it would be
to fall asleep peacefully
in a bed in a sunny meadow
no eager tics or mosquitos
preying on me.
Maybe with a few flower buds
to bloom and greet me when I wake up.
May 5, 2021
May 5, 2021 at 11:47 PM UTC
bat an eye,
coffee paradise,
it's such a sorrow
when your pour yourself
out, it hurts
the cup
and the saucer.
Oct 5, 2020
Oct 5, 2020 at 6:11 PM UTC
silence is complicity
write some words
hope it reaches the community
our opinions met
with such hostility
**** the verse
there's a dictator
running our democracy.
Jul 19, 2020
Jul 19, 2020 at 12:34 PM UTC
screaming and shouting
the cries of stories untold
being drowned out
.
Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 9:37 PM UTC
i check every message
hoping that it's you
it never is
but i still look
when my phone turns blue.
Jun 25, 2020
Jun 25, 2020 at 12:47 AM UTC
it is spring now.
i don't really know which of the following prompted my acknowledgement of the fact.
it might have been the warmth of the ground beneath my feet,
when I walked on to the patio this morning,
and the change of the air from harsh slaps,
to gentle breeze.
or maybe the dandelions showing their happy yellow faces.
perhaps even the flip of the calendar,
to the month of may yesterday.
May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 3:21 PM UTC