It’s always in a second but every time I keep track of a second it yowls in whine
It’s always in a minute but how long do I need to keep counting for a minute to pass?
It’s always in a year but the excuses that float around you remain timeless
It’s always someday with enough strength in your words
(granted it’s not much)
to make me believe you
every
Time.
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 10:09 PM UTC
I feel like a kept pet
your bird with metal on its wings
Turn off the lights
then maybe
I’ll be able to escape your perverted gaze
Why do you keep me?
my lullaby sings
it’s sad tune
is what brings you glee
for surely you’d die
if it weren’t for my wings
tied up and strung
my bird song has been sung
Leave me! I cry,
my wings must fly
I pray you see it in my eyes
But there I lay
forever in my stay
the old structure being my comfort
and with whatever might I muster
I say,
You can hear my song
for forever I will belong.
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 2:40 PM UTC
When I was younger I used to hide under my bed
As if it were a roof
Protecting me from problems disguised as rain
It was the only place my tears could flow safely
Out of sight
It helped block the sound of my feuding parents screaming:
"YOU'RE NEVER RIGHT!"
When I was younger I used to hide under my bed
I would imagine the cracks in my floor pushing flower buds through them
The sun being caught
as it shone onto the floor board beside me.
And it's light hardening into a
Crisp,
Flaky,
Gold
That I would be able to peel off with the simplicity of a fingernail.
When I was younger I used to hide under my bed
And smug between the boards off the bed frame and the mattress I would hide
My razor drenched in blood.
And the screaming would continue
And I would become aware that my imagination could never logically come alive
So I would squish my fingers between the bars
To grab my mighty prize
Of finding reality
The great realization we all look for
As a child.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
I am invisible
five days out of seven
I am unseen
with what’s pushed to the back of your brain
but what is seen to keep me alive
is the taste of honey that stays on my lips
after I kiss away my care
of anything that worries
“my pretty little head“
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 8:36 PM UTC
I press the C key on my piano
and it left the soft sound ring though the empty room
My fingers glide onto the rest of the piano
Light shines in through the window
the sunset begging for my attention as it takes it’s last few breaths
I let out a huff of air
in this cold,
cold
room.
I watch the steam evaporate into nothingness
and in that glimpse peace I press the keys down,
fingers shaking.
As the song continues to play
sweat falls from my forehead
to my cheek
to my lips
and drips off of my chin.
The coldness in the room never changing.
And eventually,
the last note fills the room up
but still it leaves as quickly as it appeared
bringing the space back to the way it was before,
uncomfortable and silent
I stand up,
the bench screeching backwards
and my slow steps make it to the window
the window where the sunset once was
but instead of beautiful colors
I stare at black.
not quite dark enough for stars
but dark enough for it to be considered night
I stare at the darkness and think,
If this is what life is really about
why is it worth living?
if we are supposed to struggle hours throughout the day
just to see the sunset for thirty minutes
and to be set back into darkness
what is the point?
I clutch my hands together behind my back
Would you please tell me the point?
My hand reaches up and gently touches
the cool glass.
I focus on my slight reflection on the window.
My eyes staring into my eyes.
and even though I was looking into my eyes
I didn't feel as though I was making eye contact with myself.
In this moment,
I felt like I did not exist.
As if nothing is existing except my reflection
And that’s when I realize that this is all anyone sees
My reflection
My cover.
They don't see me.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC