Feel pity for the turtle,
Born captive in a bowl.
Swimming in a circle,
A life been bought and sold.

He has his natural instincts,
Engrained in DNA.
I wonder what he thinks,
Being captive every day.

To him, it must feel wrong.
A missing link to life.
Pondering all along,
Why his surroundings don't suffice.

If released to the wild,
Survival would be scarce.
He's been captive since a child.
Born an artificial heir.

The turtle knows only this society,
It's what he's been born into.
His intuition - alive, indeed,
Tells him what turtles do.

I watch him in his tank, a curse.
How it must feel strange.
Born to fulfill a turtle's life purpose,
But forced into walls, by humans who exchange.

I feel pity for the turtle,
Then realize my foolishness.
Humans, too, know the artificial -
Yearning for natural happiness.

We build up our own glass walls,
And bear children to not see,
That there is life beyond this all,
That offers more than we think we need.

We, too, are like turtles,
Having a purpose to fulfill.
We overcome so many hurdles,
Within glass walls that ****.

The cold comes in,
ricochets like a
tennis ball
off every
corner, crevice
pore, stormy
gusts of wind
I breathe in,
skin is no
barrier I am
the elements
carrier, organs
coastal &
lungs tidal sea,
I am nature
& nature is me.

4 years
2 months
28 minutes
and 39 seconds

Its 4:28 am
and I know
that I don't love you
anymore

-j.t.

It’s as if you’re drowning
In a cold blue lake,
Your bottom lips shiver
Your brittle bones shake.

You want to come up for air
But my dear you can’t seem to move,
Paralyzed in this frozen lake
What have you got to prove?

Your eyes remain open
Just enough so you can see,
A man’s face at the surface
Leaning over on his knee.

You recognize the face
For it’s the one that you love,
It’s almost twisted the way
That he’s watching from above.

You want to reach out to him
To feel the very warmth of his touch
But my dear you are drowning
And his love is just too much.

Oh darling I know what you need
For him to teach you how to swim,
But he will only be the reason
That you drown, your every limb.

It's 3am and the sky is dark.
Except for the stars
That make up a work of art.

No clouds, no fuss.
The moonshines through,
Lighting my room just enough.

A rough day of a rough week,
But this is the best time.
A time of peace.

Nature is calming.
Nature is anxieties worst enemy.
At 3 in the morning
The world doesn't exist to me.

then I am wearing black suit,
white shirt, black tie,
pockets full of tissues,
most crumpled, mostly used,
like my spirits

If it's 2pm,
I am in Augusta,
in a baptist church,
a nice jewish boy,
fixing his askewed tie,
doing what
The Lord commanded of him

If it's 2pm,
I am in Augusta,
sunny and 72 Farenheit,
inside of me its a different forecast,
y'all decide the condition,
the condition I'm in

I'm in the way back row,
humming so softly,
me and Johnny C.
nobody hears,
nobody cares,

She stood in the crowd and shed not a tear
But sometimes at night when the cold wind moans
In a long black veil she cries over my bones

She walks these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave where the night winds wail
Nobody knows, no and nobody sees
Nobody knows but me

nobody knows, I am there,
nobody sees, nobody believes,
but god only knows I am here

my spirit taken here
unasked, unaided, unabated
did not have to fly,
the ship that was to take me,
busted on the rocks

for
the words that are used
to get the ship confused
will not be understood as they’re spoken
for the chains of the sea
will have busted in the night,
will be buried at
the bottom of the ocean

still
If it's 2pm,
I am in Augusta,
at a funeral,
my words gone silent,
even store bought stock phrases,
so sorry for your loss,
not for sale, all gone, all aloft,
all sold out on
this Sabbath day

If it's 2pm,
I am in Augusta,
in some form of which
not readily acquainted,
my new context a riddle,
never knew this morphosis
till now, until
it was needed,
all on that day

If it's 2:45pm
can't understand
all these people standing
over me, and the sidewalk
taste in my my mouth

it appears I appeared
on east 57th street
in my New York City,
it appears I appeared
to have
fainted dead away,
asking me not where how or when,
only why,
and I have no answers for
them or me or anybody who dare asks
a quest,
commencing and ending in
why

must have been the heat,
but decide then and there
maybe go visit
my Jordan and
my grand children

I walked out into the woods,
on a clear Autumn morning,
and used Daddy's hunting knife
to cut you out.

As if I were a surgeon,
cutting away with purpose,
no blood was lost as you fell
away from me.

You dropp'd to the forest floors,
drifting away with the wind,
I thought you were gone for good
that I was free.

You're anything but benign,
a creature from the dark woods,
following me as a wolf
out for the ****.

Helpless to spend the Winter,
cold and alone and empty,
waiting for your sure return
back to my heart.

Spring comes as you slither near,
hidden and slowly warming,
crawling and clawing upon
my cold body.

You've made your home by Summer,
nested in my hollow heart,
soaking in passionate love
that will not last.

I walked out into the woods,
on a clear Autumn morning,
and used Daddy's hunting knife
to cut you out.