I wish my sad was cool
I wish my sad was a day drinker
Glitter covered
Beautiful, dried tears crumbling off her cheek
Misty skinned at some glorious dark hour of the morning.

I wish my sad was heartbreaking
Others staring into a globe of poorly hidden injuries
Looking over my bare shoulders to see the balding on my nape.

Instead my sad is a creaking house at night
An unseen **** growing under the boardwalk

I turn my sadness over in my mind
Like I fold my clean washing

I hope one day my sad means more to me.

At a certain stage
of life you become permanently unimpressed
by a lot of *******

One quarter the length, a fifth of the strength and an eighth of the things I could be.

Saturday at three before six, my mind's playing tricks but I've seen them before,

worn away and the day's not begun, starting to doubt that there'll be any sun,

and my back aches,

that's probably due to realism creeping through the cracks in the woodwork.

writhing words
snake eyes

a hissing tongue
a snake stomach

unhinged jaw
poisoned tooth

patience
ever patient.

At night the walls turn crimson red,
Your phantom chest is ‘neath my head,
The smell of comfort settles in
Among the tingles on my skin
That still remain from days ago,
My ribcage in your hand to show
We fit like jigsaw pieces do.
But night no longer summons you
And so I watch the walls return to blue.

- p. winter

What I am?
Is who I am?
And you might never understand me.
But I understand myself.

I seek what I like?
And want what I seek?
You might never understand me.
Except I understand myself.

I'm not a mystery with secrets to keep.

Time was less
Huge throng
Destination unknown
Legs dragged forward
while the mind dragged backwards
Caught between two opposing forces
Not sure which path to take
Stuck in a limbo!