It starts every Sunday afternoon
Been this way since I was 2
I feel like my life is ****** out
By demons with human bodies
Short and stout
I see my job
My enemies and fears
Line up to drink in all my sewerage tears
I shake with icy shivers
I fear the takers and the masked givers
I wake up Monday with diarrhea
Tuesday sings onomatopoeia
By Wednesday I rise from my waste
I face Thursday with crusading haste
By Friday I bleed from a silicone cross
I dread next Sunday
I force feed loss
But psalm after psalm says do not dread
There is something more than this after you're dead
Oct 27, 2024
Oct 27, 2024 at 8:15 AM UTC
"Ok let see what happen",
says cerebral palsy in the form of my son
he chants the names of his favorite characters
wiggle around the clock
wiggles
he walks with scissor steps and looks at me with a puzzled expression
when I lose my temper.
he was born dead but was saved just before he could
learn how traumatizing life is
he sees ghosts
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 12:09 PM UTC
be-------hind
th------is
is---the
brain |||||||||||||
be-come-ing
a- thing- one year at a time
the coffin >skull
know
no
one knows me
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 12:03 PM UTC
My ankles transport me to work
Work on nothing
Nothing
A moth directs itself to light
Direction
Nothing
Who is this life for, anyway?
Some-thing or some thing?
Things someone thought about and it seemed right at the time
Nothing can beget nothing
No thing is possible without hope
The thing I want most is to be a wire.
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 12:00 PM UTC
i hate you
you concrete jungle
broken and jagged roads
that bear their rusted metal rods like ribs
the smells of sewerage always beneath your steps
smog and absurd dreams circulate through the veins
of infants who smoke clove cigarettes and ask with neutral stares
why are you afraid to die?
why can't you just live?
I will die asking why I love this city so much!!!
I will ask that my dead body be unceremoniously laid under the red Indonesian clay where countless unknowns were laid before me
bury me in Jakarta.
tell the single mom with the face I've always wanted to kiss
that I was only trying to feel loved for the very first time
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 11:57 AM UTC
A virus that kills
Can die under soap
A species that kills
Can die under a virus
Ants and beetles could care less about whose corpse is under the plastic wrap
We will get through this because we do care even if through protective lenses and filmy disinfecting smiles
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 9:08 AM UTC
T
He
Shape
Of
A tough
Life can become a
T R I A N G L E & 1 day
With you would mean a lot
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 9:02 AM UTC