I feel less than
For I am a number
Or maybe an object
For seven hours a day

I feel less than
For I am different
And you are under people
If you aren't the same

I feel less than
Because I can't make my own decisions
And the people who do
Don't understand what it's like
To be in my head

I feel less than
For even my own haunted mind
Seems to rule over me

Because you are so busy
with the way I ought to be,
measuring me up against
that standard constantly,
you haven't taken time to get
up close and try to see
just who it is I really am
and what I want to be.

I’m at the top of my game
she said
writing a few good
poems a day
completing my second novel
I’m published in all the best
journals you know?
I poured another drink
looked at her face her hands
they were almost perfect
no scars no sign of life
death had not touched
her beauty…
Clay.M

His hands were warm,
But he was dead inside.

Powdered Dreams
And Pill-Shape hope
A Needle’s Kiss
A false escape

But soon it fades
The pain returns
The truth unfolds

Left alone
With sweaty hands
Chasing deceitful comfort
That slips like sand

Renewal is wanted
A path to heal,
To break these chains
And to once again feel.