Look left and pick me up off the floor.
Cause I slipped, just now
and thought maybe you'd catch me.
But it's fine you weren’t looking my way
What’s not is you still aren’t.
I’m the one who said let’s go to the place,
with the stuff,
where the people all tend to do things
and you said yes, well, "ok,"
"maybe," "you’d let me know later."
But you came, it’s been great
and it still would be
if you’d caught me.
I thought
“OK, this is fine, clearly I’m not the only thing on your mind.”
But when you still didn’t offer a hand,
It was only then did I understand,
We won’t be.
Which, *****
cause I like you
and I like when you laugh, that you’re strong
and that you do this thing with your mouth when you smile,
like you think that you smile too wide,
and don’t want to.
Well, maybe, that’s only at me,
But it’s still cute.
So here I am on the ground,
while you still haven’t even looked ‘round.
I don’t think you’re trying to be cruel
I even get, you still can’t see
that I’ve been trying hard not to act like a fool
but I have been.
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 10:20 PM UTC
Can you hear the howl caught in the hollow of my heart?
Don’t think because I’m not screaming anymore I like it here.
This perpetual half-formed shout is always one missed exhale away from breaking free.
Anger roils in my chest,
crashing and breaking against the cage built to contain my emotions.
I didn’t want one there,
but I needed it.
It’s bars are build from the ruins of burned bridges and broken friendships.
Look at all the pain I’ve caused because I raged over the smallest sins.
Look at all the people I’ve hurt because I let frustration form fists of my words.
I still don’t like it here.
I don’t think I ever will.
But you’ll never know it.
Because I’ve trapped the howl, and caught it in my heart
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC
I died.
Mommy, I died and I can’t tell you I did.
I can’t tell you that I’m sitting on the other side crying
because I’ve hurt you more than I ever knew I possibly could
I couldn’t sleep before,
knowing my heartbeats were numbered
so I counted them.
Sixty beats a minute, fourteen-hundred something minutes a day, thirty days for six months
60 times 1400 times 30 times 6.
I did the arithmetic so I could have one more math test to cheat on.
I ran laps and hyperventilated and did every upbeat thing I could think of to upend my pulse so
I could lie to myself.
140 times 1400 times 30 times 6.
It’s twice as big.
I don’t know if I can sleep now, and I didn’t tell you, mommy.
cause I didn’t want you to lose sleep then,
and I hate you’re losing sleep now.
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 7:35 PM UTC
Go run like lost souls do:
up any path that looks safer than the last,
stumbling towards the next clearing, any hint of sanctuary.
Always to find that the forest isn’t ending,
it's cresting the edge of a mountain,
and on the other side are more forests,
and rivers,
and meadows to cross.
But for a brief moment, on this peak,
when every path is downhill,
each way is easier than before.
So go run like lost souls do:
In any direction you choose.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 3:03 AM UTC
Heartbroken, I want to sip Bourbon outside in the thunderstorms.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 10:45 PM UTC
There was dancing at the funeral;
wild, wind-swept and whirling.
A testament to a life spent unfurling sails and fighting for a better future.
"She was a doctor, your mama" as if I didn't know. "One of the first to say,
'Man, stop calling me a girl,
I'm a professional
and hell, I'll swear like one too.'"
She started her family in this city,
and made every borough within arms reach.
Patients were closer than cousins,
and my aunts spent less time here than the women's wing of the ACLU.
Black is not a way to mourn, but to warn.
A message shouting "Stand clear, this soul is moving on."
Best prepare afterlife, cause this one made a difference here,
and she'll sure-as-shit start something over there.
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
Once, in a long while,
I go somewhere new in my mind,
shapes take form where voice can’t affect
and my words become hieroglyphs.
It’s when pictures seem more natural than inky squiggles.
because, what’s more natural than shape?
What’s more poetic than an image words don’t capture,
can’t capture, never will—capture?
Despite the decades,
I still have not heard the perfect words
to describe summer skies on clear nights,
God knows I’ve tried,
he’s heard me whispering,
chanting phrase after phrase upwards
as they crash against the stars,
floating, fixed in open defiance of my calls,
immune to my attempts to trap them on paper.
But you can only try to define the infinite in so many ways,
before losing yourself to what is, ultimately,
indescribable.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
It’s been a long time since I wrote anything new
actually, been a long time since I thought about writing
which is odd, cause it’s not like I don’t have a lot to write about
I just got over my first cancer scare at 24
lumps don’t have to be big lumps,
and they don’t have to be on any particulate humps
it can be a stump, little more than a bump that you don’t notice
until your finger hurts.
Then you can’t stop being scared.
My doctor calls it a tumor,
the radiologist calls it a tumor,
the surgeon calls it a tumor
the oncologist calls it annoying,
and not to call him again unless it goes malignant.
*******
I just got over a thing I had for a girl I met
she was so, like, me.
Her favorite country in Europe was Germany,
her parents were former military,
she knew what it was like to move 4 times in 7 years
and lose 10 best friends before facebook was even a thing
she loved pizza and was fine with her curves and mine
and when I kissed her I felt happy.
Didn’t get to kiss her after that first night though.
Shouldn’t have spent the night.
I think I ruined the magic,
and I couldn’t get it back.
Then I couldn’t kiss the next girl because she was standing right there
after saying we weren’t there already.
and didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
but i'm over that now, which sounds like a lie
it doesn't feel like one though
even crushes don't last forever.
Maybe I was too busy to write,
but probably not
maybe I wanted to see how the stories ended before writing
that's makes more sense
but it wasn't until I wrote it down, that I could acknowledge it happened.
and it happened to me.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 11:25 AM UTC
Keep hold on the standing bass
and *** *** ba-dum us to a slow dance,
because the two step’s too quick
and I want to hear some sad trumpet improv;
The perfect impression of us in love.
It’s too humid here,
I can see sweat race down well-worn wrinkles
eroded into Ms. Carla from 30 years of cabaret.
She sways on the microphone,
while her deep voice hangs in the air,
fragrant, and ready to stifle the pairs
mixing love and lust beneath her stage
They move,
sweaty and close,
***** and dark,
familiar-passionate
slow,
but furious.
Another evening of Jazz and ***
So this night passes,
a melody in my head
leading a world within my arms
as we rock,
ba-ba-ba-dummed by the bass.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
Walmart doesn't sell Dictionaries anymore,
but they sell emoji stickerbooks.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 11:11 AM UTC