b e mccomb Feb 5
it's six o'clock
in the blessed am
and the coffee in
the bottom of my
mug is getting cold
the day is starting

with the familiar sound of
pen caps snapping on
and off sliding back and
forth in their plastic sleeve
she sits in her chair
in the dark only a tiny
blue light to shine on a
sigh here and there

i am fully made up
and totally cold
listening to the furnace
and snores that hum through
walls the scratching
of my own pen on paper

all is quiet before
but if you listen
you can hear

what can you hear?
peace and quiet
close to that found in the
middle of the night
only less anguished
and more stoic

and so on this morning
we rise to our grind
rinse our cups
and carry on
copyright 2/5/18 b. e. mccomb
b e mccomb Jan 30
today i drew up a
crime scene
out of my thoughts

which sounds

unless you're someone
like me who can't think
one thing without thinking
about another

so i drew lines on paper
connected people to events
places to regrets
circled notations
and perhaps little
is relevant

if i wear my heart
and emotions on my sleeve
which i do
can you possibly imagine
what kind of things i don't
admit to thinking?
and for awhile i thought
i didn't have any hidden
feelings but then again
the deeper i dig the more
i find that i do
once i get past the fact
i don't want to admit
they're there

my gut response is
to wait until the
wound itches
grab the
band aid and
rip it off

but this is a much
slower process
of hot steam
and stinging
soap and water
peeling bit
by painful bit

trying not to let the
crime scene thoughts
take over my life
but slowly snipping
color coded threads
until things begin falling

learning to live my life
with less explosions
less catastrophic
breakdowns to push past
and more tears that wash
off in the morning
and less that drip
into open cuts

light in

disassembling my
crime scene thoughts
copyright 1/29/18 b. e. mccomb
b e mccomb Jan 30
i don't want to fall
asleep tonight
not since i've been
dreaming like this

wrapped in plastic
shrink wrap
and forced to chew
on razorblades

last night i was
in jail but it might
have been a mental institute
halfway locked up
halfway on parole
hiding the fact
i had to be back in
my barred room
before the clock
struck noon

i don't want to fall
asleep tonight
even if i leave
the light on
copyright 1/29/18 b. e. mccomb
b e mccomb Jan 17
some feelings now
have faded
like the tears and
panic i washed off

but others remain
still the urge to
cry and still the stings
where i am hurt

i am no longer
a child
but my sleeves
tell me i am vulnerable
and immature
seeking attention
and never think
about anyone's feelings
but my own

my sleeves tell me
i am selfish

and i want to cry
for if those things
were really true
i think hurting
myself would be low
on my list of priorities
and instead i would go
after targets less close
to the center of my

hurt and violate others
people i won't have to
see every day
for the rest of my life

but there they are
cuts and scratches
i'll keep to myself
trying not to be selfish
copyright 1/16/18 by b. e. mccomb
b e mccomb Jan 16
seek immediate emergency help
if you are hearing voices
having urges to hurt yourself
or feeling suicidal

but emergency help
won't always help

you can't call a hotline
in the middle of lunch
can't leave your job for a
week while you're in the hospital

can't stop everything
just because the thoughts
that follow you around don't
quiet to a dull roar

the dishes must be done
even if the knives are screaming
to be used on skin
the medications must be taken
every morning and not
swallowed in handfuls

the dog must be walked
leash attached to the collar
and not wrapped around your neck
and showers need to be taken
even while you feel yourself
drowning under waves of
things you do not understand
and emotional hurricanes that
threaten to destroy your cities

the world must keep turning
as you keep resisting

and you

keep resisting

i can't say the fog will
someday lift and leave a
golden vista every morning
for the rest of your life

but i promise
it might be worth your
pain to find out that
some days are distinctly
lighter shades of gray
even when it rains
copyright 1/15/18 by b. e. mccomb
b e mccomb Jan 15
em>you could knock
me over with a
puff of smoke

you know why
i've had a headache
in my sinuses
for three days?

it's from forcing
tears to
up there

you could knock
me over with a
puff of smoke
but please don't

i hate
this way




i feel
weak damnit

like you could
knock me over
with a puff of smoke
and i wouldn't
be able to
get back up

and i hate
this way

worn down
like an old
more holes
than fabric
to be
ripped in half

if i open my
mouth to
i will be
out in my
own sobs

wanted to believe
i was strong
as strong as
any man out there
but if i can't even
speak how can
i possibly be
that strong?

my body is tired
my mind is tired
my emotions are tired
and worst of all
i'm weak

and you could
knock me over
with a puff of smoke
and i will break

i hate feeling
weak damnit

copyright 1/14/17 by b. e. mccomb
b e mccomb Jan 12
there is a thin
layer of grease
over everything
that i touch

yet the skin over
my knuckles is
dry and red
lips cracked

i try and try
and try but
never manage
to be enough

maybe they put hate
in the cleaner
i soak my retainer in
because i feel it
every time
my teeth clench

i know your name
your order your
lunchtime nuances
about your dogs
your job and house
little useless details
about what makes
everyone in this town
who they are

but you don't
know me
and neither
do i
copyright 1/12/18 b. e. mccomb
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