Beaten down like a path full of powdery dirt with lumps and holes throughout the earth
Quiet now because age has laid its hand on my head and told me to rest
Still angry
In my heart
In my soul
Watching and reading a life wading in a brook

Creepy crawly
Seashell lover
Beads around a wrist no longer
Bones that crunch and hair that twists
Six feet under a sordid mix
A sun that shines on quiet days
Morning brings a foggy haze
And you don’t come out on Sundays
and can you feel the quiet
And can you smell the earth
And do you hear the silence
Do you still feel the hurt?

My twisted hue
On doorstop eyes
With crystal windows
Drip drop drain
My velvet hair
On tear stained blues
Back bend summer
Screen door warmth
On a cement porch

Bouncing on a lava lake
Stretchy rubber never breaks
Burning burning twisting pain
Acid slimey mucous lake

Was this always
Where you kept me
In a bottle
On a shelf
With your anger
And your boredom
Just part of your mental health
Is this always
How you’ll leave me
Stranded
Gasping for breath
If this is too far out of your depth
Swim back to shore now
That’s your best bet
If you feel like you might die
Go ahead
Hold your breath
Go with the tide

Pretentious
And entitled
Making me sick
No humility
No self awareness
Ever persists
Like a plant
that can’t
Dig through the soil
Lay dead

The soul feels like an ocean
The heart a water drop
A mix of new emotions
Crash then break then stop
Only so much destruction
Before that becomes boring too
Rust turns into corrosion
Then back to nothing new