To throw away:
The hammer pants I wore
the day we met in person,
faded pattern and hole in knee
you said you would patch
for the memory
10 greeting cards signed by me
for Valentine's, birthday, anniversary.
21 post-it notes with "I ❤️ U"
once hidden around our bedroom
reminders from me, to you.
3 Greeting cards, scribbled by you
2 Given late, 1 on time
asking for *** on Valentine's
The set of knives and cutting block
to you for Christmas, rusted through
you soaked but never washed.
The owl mug, your first gift to me
that fell from my desk, handle broken
tossed instead of lost.
The practice leggings, now too loose,
stretched, and not your size
you "borrowed" and continued to wear
ignoring they were mine.
To wash, febreeze, rest and reset:
The jacket I bought for me,
that became yours when you arrived,
sans winter clothes,
donated, now. Surprise!
The mattress we bought together,
After I cried and begged for hours,
The box spring my then-bestie donated
to me, but you claimed was "ours"
The soft, memorable fabric, on which
I wanted no one else to sit,
my Poppy's Lay-Z-boy,
about which you threw a fit.
The car I gained when I kicked you out,
that I keep cleaner than you would.
My space, my heart, my dignity,
my house and personhood.
Dec 17, 2024
Dec 17, 2024 at 10:36 PM UTC
I message the girl I love
"I miss writing poetry"
I miss the way syllables
and sounds orient themselves
A line dance I haven't done
in years, but know the steps
A sleeper agent to the way
that used to be the only way
Back when my feelings were opaque
and dusty, indiscernible
Before I knew what anger was
without heat and fear
and raised voices
Before I knew safety as something
permanent, more tangible
than ghosts
Once, poetry was my first language
prose second, RP third,
A way to communicate without speech
without uhms and uhs
Before I learned to ******** my way
through public speaking
Poetry
A line and feeling, a dance
Syllabic sign language
I message the woman I love
"I miss writing poetry"
Pick up a pen
and write.
Dec 17, 2024
Dec 17, 2024 at 10:26 PM UTC
It exists just to be used
Softened lead and wood the color of sunshine,
On a clear summer day at noon,
Sharp to be dull to be sharpened again,
Cut to be cut to be cut again,
Long, for the purpose of being shortened
Shortened, short
Made to waste away, to sacrifice,
simply to make its mark, your mark,
A mark that will never be its own
What do you own when you are simply a conduit
Of other ideas?
An implemented utensil made to hold,
To shape thoughts, to make words,
To make worlds,
Smooth as soft grass beneath flattened palms,
Light enough to flick between fingers,
A soft hand, a trailing finger, a lover’s touch,
Round and round, and then round again,
Here, then there, unthinkingly,
As your focus trails over…
And doubles back,
Before crystallizing, your tool suddenly held firm,
As you spin your tales, your worlds, your words,
Then pause, and look, your thoughts made tangible,
Your tool a stake, a spear, a weapon when needed,
Sharp and dangerous, ready,
A pike, a sword, a dagger,
Able to communicate the sharpest words, the harshest touch,
A slap, a hit, hard, and heavy,
Smarting like a bruise just found, just poked, just pushed against.
A tool, a weapon, a builder, a revolutionary,
With just the barest hint of pink, of regret, of dissonance,
To stop.
Your trailing words, your tirade, your letters of love to leave,
Second guessed and sectioned off and sacrificed successfully,
Erased from all of history,
Transformed, at once, to nothing.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC
My last long distance relationship was with YaHWeH
And we’re on break
But when I can’t help myself
I drunk text him
Thumbs fumbling like they’ve forgotten
Keys I used to know with eyes closed
“Why do you give me emotions
If they are only going to be doubted?
Invalidated continuously?
What would it be like to feel something
Without being punished?
Prayer emoji, prayer emoji,
Cry emoji, upside down smile.”
And when the emotional puking is done
And I’ve resigned myself to silence
And acid green Listerine
The universe chimes
“One new message.”
Taking a deep breath,
Pushing down apprehension
And the nauseous excitement
Of a boy texting back
Read.
“They are not always thus.
Each time someone was there
In your corner,
Maybe not the most voices
Maybe not the loudest
But there.
You are the master of your destiny, Love
The master of your punishment
You do not have to feel punished
You are rejoice made flesh.”
Peaceful smile, peaceful smile
Kiss emoji.”
I pause, reading it once,
Then twice,
Swallowing then nodding
Keys now vaguely familiar.
“Sometimes I forget.
Shy emoji, shrug emoji,
Monkey covering eyes.”
“God is typing……”
“That is what I’m here for.”
Kiss emoji, smile emoji
Blushing beaming smile.”
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC
I don’t like you.
You’d think that wouldn’t be such a big deal, but honestly?
I’m not that type of person. I won’t pretend that I’ve never
Disliked someone before. I dislike plenty of things, and people
Tend to be on the list, when they’re tiresome. And you, man
You are tiresome to the next degree.
Like a project worked on all semester only to be told that it’s been cancelled
Tiresome like a conservative christian in a debate about homosexuality
Tiresome like a gun toting person demanding their right to hold weapons
While also taking away the right to speak out against them
Tiresome like all lives matter. Tiresome like our president.
Tiresome like another person killed because they look like me.
Tiresome like writing a poem about you instead of about any of that.
I don’t like you.
The funny thing is, you don’t think you’ve done anything wrong.
And I mean, that’s not your fault. When it comes to communication, hey
I haven’t been forthcoming. I’m not forthcoming when it comes to that, and you know?
I’ve been working on it, sort of. It’s comes in starts and stops
But **** when you’re recovering and meet a person like you,
Honey boo, listen, it’s a lot to deal with
I have my own **** going on, I have my own problems
And you know? I’m only asking for some authenticity
I don’t like you.
You don’t have to put your whole life out there, but if you say you’re jaded
And you say that you want to keep it to yourself, and I respect that
But then you go and blurt it all out anyway?
Jaded? Honey that’s not jaded. Jaded is holding yourself back from everyone you know
Jaded is not telling your mother, not telling your best friend,
not telling people who’ve known and understood you for years,
Jaded is trying to tell people and not being able to, your words
Caught.
Frozen in a throat that wants nothing but to be understood.
Jaded is opening up a little bit to only to find firm and instant regret
Jaded is arguing with yourself over every. single. word.
Honey, you’re not jaded
If anything you’re glassed.
I don’t like you.
I don’t mean to discount your trauma, your hurt, no, not at all
Your pain and emotions are valid, just like mine, and hers, and ours,
But god, god you don’t make it easy do you?
Trauma is not a one way ticket into the cool kids club, alright?
We didn’t want to be this way, we don’t flaunt it
I don’t want your meager tumblr-style fourteen year old
edgy emotions with your Three Days Grace hat and your Slipknot hoodie
And your “no one understands me”
I don’t like you
And come on, man! I even like those bands! I still listen to them!
Three Days Grace and Slipknot and everything from that phase is still strong
It still has weight, words have power, but you, you you you
You have the power to take even the most amazing thing, the most powerful
The most pleasing and peaceful and transform them into something
Troublesome. And tiring. And overdone. That’s you
And I’m sorry, I am, I’m sorry that I’m reacting like this
I swear that since highschool I’ve been better at snap judgements
But I took a chance on you and you shat on it, man
You ******* took my chance and tossed it in the garbage compactor
With your low budget, discount, B Movie Teenage Angst
That still has the audacity to be hurt by the Oscars “not noticing you”
I don’t like you.
And this isn’t an attention thing, okay?
I am a huge advocate for seeing people doing things for attention, and giving them that
Because that’s a cry for help, that makes sense
Looking for understanding, that makes sense
But god, to do it and then shun those who try to relate
To do it and then look down your nose
To do it and then turn your back
To do it and then flick your hair and say “you guys wouldn’t understand.”
I don’t like you.
And the thing is, when I have problems?
When I don’t like things, when I get uncomfortable
I fix them, I make progress, I take steps
But with you? Sweetie no,
I don’t want to try with you,
I don’t want to fix this with you
I don’t want to deal with you
I don’t like you.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
1. “Redbone” by Childish Gambino
From the album “Awaken My Love!” circa 2016
There is something here of the generations
My mother used to hold me to her chest
And play songs that sounded a lot like this one
A string of notes and a backbeat that could lead a war
That old time sound of a desperately truthful falsetto
Of loves and lusts lost and almost lost
2. “Ribcage” by Mary Lambert ft Angel Haze
From the album “Heart on my Sleeve” circa 2014
I’ve always had a penchant for clever lyrics and simile
Self titled Queen of Metaphor circa 2008
This one is a heartbeat, trapped in a cage of craving bone
With vulnerable voices raised in honest harmony
Then comes the rap Angel, spitting psalms of poetic pleas
Desperate to be understood when words work no longer
3. “HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T” by Fall Out Boy
From the album “Mania” circa 2017
A love song about holding memories like mists in tight fists
A distance insurmountable between two linked chains
It’s the point where numbness reaches its peak,
But you remember the all consuming wave of emotion
The way a child who has lived their whole life in the desert
Remembers being born at sea
4. “The Good Part” by AJR
From the album “The Click” circa 2017
This is where you are when you’ve reach three fourths completion,
A 2pm existential crisis, an out of body stress headache
A melancholy look back at all you’ve achieved,
A Pride in the journey, when you’ve still got miles before the finish line
Weeks of hard work, all in an unending line,
A tired request to flip to the Happily Ever After
5. “Maybe IDK” by Jon Bellion
From The Album “The Human Condition” circa 2016
This is the finale of an existential nightmare,
The part of dissociation where the world comes back into focus,
When you talk your brain into circles to get back to sense,
This is the sigh of relief when your questions stop spiraling
Like living through a hurricane, hands clasped, eyes closed
Coming outside, and seeing the sun
6. “Once in a Lifetime” by Talking Heads
From the Album “Remain in Light” circa 2005
Finally, the return of your mind, the tingling of overthinking
Come to rest. This is the feeling of everything being “alright”
When you haven’t been alright since two years old. This is
The temporary “back to normal”, the frequently pressed reset,
Button that makes you function again, when you know
Deep down, you’re an iphone four years out of date
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 3:45 AM UTC
God said “Fight.”
and I’ve been raising my fists
since before I knew to say
“My Father who art”
I’ve got bruises between my knuckles
that only ghosts can see
Soul deep black eyes
And dislocated shoulders
Busted lips and
“Hallowed be thine”
Spat with blood and broken teeth
Black and blue beneath skin
That’s never been marred
“Thy kingdom come”
With kicks and low blows
Breaks in spiritual bones
“The Lord told Abraham”
Too wild to recognize
Too lost to “Go”
The Lord said “Fight"
and I’ve been waiting for my Seventh Day
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
what am I now, what am I now
alone and sad and lonely
what am I now, what am I
alone and sad and
look at what you’ve done to me
look at these scars no one can see
what am I now, what am I now
look at these scars no one can
I wish I could tell you how I’ve changed
I wished someone would see
I wish I was something else
I wish I could show you how I’ve
I don’t know who I am right now
I don’t know who I was
Before you did this to me
I don’t know who I was
what am I now, what am I now
alone and sad and lonely
I wish someone could see my scars
what am I now, what am I
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 11:45 PM UTC
“Are we dreaming?”
He moves like a power surge, slow then suddenly. Lips on my jaw, lips on my throat. The sheets are smooth beneath our feet.
Are we dreaming?
“Is this real?”
He moves like a question. Hands on my hips. Gentle, gentle. Don’t wake - Don’t wake us. I sigh against his lips.
Is this real?
“Relax.”
His fingers on my cheek, his nose against my own. His eyes are closed, his smile soft, soft, soft. I melt.
Relax.
“This is a dream.”
His voice is sure, his laugh sideways. He’s made himself his punchline. His arms orbit, his forehead warm on mine.
This is a dream.
“It’s okay.”
His whisper quakes. For me, for him. He is pinks and blues in rising light. His eyes on me the softest plea.
“It’s okay, we’re dreaming.”
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
Write it in pen, write it in pen
You can’t take it back if you write it in pen
Say it out loud, say it out loud
You can’t hide from it if you say it out loud
Think of it more, think of it more
You can’t run from it if you think of it more
Tell your best friend, tell your best friend
You won’t be alone if you tell your best friend
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 11:43 PM UTC