i am the 1 am drunk text
i am the family pictures popping up on  your newsfeed
i am the polaroid at the bottom of your desk drawer
i am the modern baseball song that you can't seem to skip
i am the candy wrappers in your car door
i am the cd stuck in your car radio that is just me singing a song i never should have written for you
i am the way a dorm room bed is always just big enough
i am the draft of a poem that was never just right

and

you are the space between the lines of the poems that aren't fixing anything
you are the dried up corsage in the back of my closet
you are the third step on the stairs into the basement where i swear i can still see stains of mascara on the carpet from november 8, 2015
you are the post card i never sent
you are the post card i sent but never should have
you are the phone calls i can't make
you are the nightmares i have where we are both running from something not clear to us


now that i've set the scene are you sure you want to delete your audition tape?
are you sure that your first try was good enough?

Every part of you
Has a secret
Language

Woman is a ray of God
She isn't  that earthly beloved
She is creative
Not created

In every religion
There is love
But love has no religion

The noise never falters away,
What it is, I cannot say.
It plays in my head like a twisted song,
It tells me what I am doing wrong.

Sometimes it seems to play aloud,
And I question why others don't see its shroud.
But my mind is what is slipping,
The seams are tearing, ripping.

I am not crazy. But I do suffer.
I tell myself to be tougher.
But words are nothing in the face of fear.
They are nothing to stop my tears.

I dream of silence, it seems grand.
I dream of a different time, different land.
Books take me far, I escape it all.
But one day, I might still fall.

Innuendos conjure concepts of
untruths that only the sensible
let not belittle there perceptions

But there are those like sheep are
herded unto the whispers that
blossom on wanting thoughts.

Within each wave of wording changing
upon each beach of thought they wash upon,
now phrased different from once before.

Always listen to the source never the echo
of where it never came forth. A wave only
gets bigger the more splashing is done.

written January 3rd, 2017

"Hypocracies flood my mind, time after time

I'm not fine, I'm lying when I say these things in my mind are just all composed of rhymes and lullabies

To get me by

Time flies, yet compositions on white boards and ideas of how I want to be are at an intertwine

Inside - it's one thing

On the outside - I can't compromise"

life
a careless child
messy room
scattered toys around

too young for chess
abusing pawns
and queens alike
some lost at best,
others lying broken
on the ground

and me
I am a cube
at the hands of curiosity,
fingers tightly clenched;
is it persistence now
or is it animosity
beating sides and edges
against the circle slot;
it doesn't take a sage
to see
there never was a plot

Silence is
The language of flowers