Competitively dysfunctional

In lightheartedness and aloof

Teeter tottering

Puddings in the proof

I'm stuffed
Belly all a swell

Nothings best
Nothings left
But to bid you well

I can't say that I've made the best decisions
There is constant dividing
a crippling devision
Atmospheric focal point
of a five foot incision
Viewing seconds in awareness
of foreboding circumcision
An optical submission
Leaving every thought and opinion    cleanly risen
In a prison
Of supervision
Burning the cuts on my fingers
Squeezing lemons of ambition

A hello from my Estranged Acidic Lover
Mixed with the scent of Lysol Wipes
I was using to scrub the Oven Door
Left me with a Metalic Taste
That raised my Iron Levels
I grew Irritable and Irrational
The beads of my sweat turned Silver
Plink plink fell to The Ground
With a heavy Speed
So I grabbed my Broom and Dustpan
Swept up the teared Weight
Covering the Floor
Before I could Slip
And threw them in the Trash

Sitting on top an apex
My legs started to fall asleep
Stood up for a few seconds
Fell to the bottom

Weak and fair eyed
Tongue to teeth
Cavities set in
Life's too sweet
Sung high notes
Ears began to bleed
And all the while
You cling to greed

Grieving grief
As most of us are apt to do
Startling reflections
Seen in a whole new view
Stifling malaise
Giving up obscenity
For glowing window blaze
The night can't get much darker
Until comes a brighter phase
Grieving grief
Like a moon starved sage

If you would stop running
You wouldn't be as tired

If I ever rid myself
Of
You
I’m not sure if I would
Sink
Or
Float

Through the fire,
The window,
And six screams,

Were visions of

Elegantly placed

Dainty airy things

Silhouettes
Of heads and legs
And wings

Mouths emitting

Orbs of shiny tings

Fingers that painted
The
Wind like circled dreams


I froze,  
My mind stilled

My breath
Concrete
Blowing off steam

Just thinking about being open to someone makes my body cringe
A harsh tingle curves my spine
And that’s  just the reaction  
To my mind

In real life all traces of attention and focus
Run away from me
And the sides of my eyes tinge black
If boldness was full bodied
I’d be a paper doll
All I can do is change outfits
Maybe add a new do
A nice winter scarf
Your favorite pair of my shoes

Little hints
Of something with dimensions
But nothing more

Rip me up when you start to see
The creases, the wrinkles
Maybe donate me to someone underprivileged

We call everything with a predictable outcome attractive.

If you want to get to know me
Don’t speak
I’ve placed myself here
With elegant intention
In observation
In purpose
Your un-will
Has met mine
And they have entangled
To create new

Seeing so many signs
I'm scared I'm schizophrenic
An injection needed
Individual pandemic
Destruction is the only cure
To
Beading my head slowly

Just enough to ensure
Of the gap I muddled over
Be faintly seen
In obvious undercover
A seed of confusion
That never grows
But remains securely
In precise finger poked rows

I hear your name every day
Against my will
Sometimes it starts in the morning
After a dream
Sometimes not long after waking up
In the songs I listen to while I drink my tea

Sometimes on licenses plates
Because it’s such a short ******* name
Sometimes being called out in the streets
Because it’s such a common ******* name

Sometimes buzzing in my brain
Honey soaked name
Sticks to the folds of my gray matter
While the white waits around for its weekly drip

Sometimes your name feels like Voldemort
Sometimes your name feels like a Crucifix
Sometimes your names feels like a direction
Sometimes your names feels like a 404 error
Sometimes your name feels like a bag around my head
Sometimes your name feels like a stepping stone
Sometimes your name feels like medicine
Sometimes your name feels like a sickness
Sometimes your name feels like home
Sometimes your name feels like an anti-hero
Sometimes your name feels like deprivation

Time went fishing
Caught a boot
Rocked the boat
Stained refute
Belly Hungered
Persistent ache
Then to tip
From his self made wake

Where have you been my poet friend?
My forest without trees
My honey ***
With its side cracked
Repelling all the bees

Where have you gone?
My unfinished song
My note without a tune
My secret long unkept
Lyrically eating with a spoon

In your absence
I’ve cleaned trash from streets
Planted and picked a garden of lovely sweets
And even felt the kiss of eternal peace
But still I speak
to the aberration in the room

Forthwith forthright
Shaken by my runes
I leave a trail of crumbs
Leading to my tomb

I think if you tried one more time
You'd be surprised with your results.

I'm beautiful because of what I embody
Not my body

Love me without motive
Fill me not with void
When we spoon
Grasp me when your non dominant hand
So when your knife fingers cut right through me
Your aim isn’t as accurate

My depression is my ***** kitchen
Sink filled to the brim with ***** dishes
Old food left stuck in waiting
Much like the thoughts in my head,
I have to get water from the bathroom sink,
In theory rinsing them after sounds so easy
But just the thought reminds of the summer I spent working for my dad power washing old fences.

My depression is my unbrushed hair thrown in a bun everyday
Knots left stuck in waiting
Much like the thoughts in my head,
I tell people I do the same thing because I’m not good at doing hair but I used to love it,
In theory running a brush through it sound so easy
But just the thought reminds me of when I sprained both my wrists and my body starts to twinge

My depression is the fake teeth stuck in my mouth
Because self destruction was never an
Option
Now it’s become another excuse to avoid connection
Much like the thoughts in my head

I tell people I’m shy
I tell people I don’t have much in common with anyone else
But in my head we’ve become best friends

My depression is the outside stillness
Because the unmatched chaos in my head leaves no energy for much else
It’s being tired after I’ve slept
It’s being hopeless after my personal church
It’s being trapped after another hand touches mine
It’s being mute with a series of novels to speak
It’s anesthesia awareness
It’s not being in a dungeon but being the dungeon itself
It’s being in a glass box all filled with water but a corner left of air
I’m pressed up against to breathe but keep gulping in water
Knowing it’s just a matter of time

I listen for one voice in maze of white noise
Nonsense dribbles in and pounds on a drum
Startling me into a ****** plateau
Fluctuations are never wanted more
A cliff to crumble beneath my being
Or a sea to crash me ashore
White noise taunts me
The ghost of a ghost
Withers against the deep curve of my back
Posture writhing in tension
Heart beats in subtle frequency
And blatant apprehension
Music, I crave music

I tire
Of fire
My skin
In need
Of rest

Topography
An eye can see
Each moment
That I lived

Dents and such
Wrinkles much
Meaty
Glossy
Sieve

I ate your truth
Of fermented fruit
It left me dizzy in a sense of self