and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ********** with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 10:12 PM UTC
He was just alive
beside me, laughing at my
***** jokes, shaking
his head in shared silent mirth.
His last words – ‘Stop it, Joe, you’re-‘
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
Born
Without skin
To hold it all in
Nerve
So raw it screams
(everydayeverydayeveryday)
Mind
So exhausted it snaps
(itsnotmeitsnotmeitsnotme)
Feeling
So intense it chokes
(icantbreatheicantbreatheicantbreathe)
To hold it all in
Without skin
Born
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC
My mistake;
I told myself I just forgot to put my makeup on
and no one would really notice anyway,
but there it is large as life -
the part of me that doesn’t fit in.
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
You wouldn’t understand; no one does.
Who I am doesn’t fit who I’m supposed to be.
Cramped and crowded in leftover expectations,
like a cicada larvae in too-small skin.
What will I be if I ever emerge,
and how long will it take everyone to **** it?
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC
hope
is a brilliant gem
with sharp edges
that slice clean and deep
like a razor
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
Rushing downstream
everythinggoesbysofast
gasping above the waterline
idontrecognizeanythinganymore
grasping at rocks and branches
wherethehellaminow
heaving breaths haul me ashore
ilaygasping&vomiting;
where the hell am I?
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 11:33 AM UTC
i begin to think that death
is for the adventurous
and i am only a coward
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 11:26 AM UTC
i die so quietly
you dont even notice
im just an empty shell
now
i die quietly
only death can see me
now
i die
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 11:23 AM UTC
Breathing is too much
for me today; maybe I’ll
stop for a minute.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC