It's like you're left with extreme paralyzing psychosis, or deja vu, or an epiphany that you greet with swinging fists and bouts of palpitating aggression that doesn't have any sense of direction.
It's like when you try unlocking the door to your house, but the locks have been replaced with new ones and there are people inside that you don't recognize but they're strewn across your expensive living room set that you bought when you were manic.
Then you realize that your home has replaced you. This always happens.
Maybe this is the plot twist to your life. You're the one that's haunted and your house is afraid of opening the door when you arrive.
See, perhaps it's tired of being inhabited but not being properly lived in.
You don't remember seeing an eviction notice but it feels exactly the same like the time he abandoned you during a thunderstorm.
Except it wasn't raining but your mind was already creating apparitions of puddles and floods.
You can't say goodbye to things, you can't let go. You claw and you scream but nothing ever comes back.
It's like missing the last train home. Like, forgetting about your birthday. It's like deleting a number knowing full well that you have it memorized but it's the thought that counts. right?

I keep wishing to be in Nevada
that we would chase the sunset all the way to Florida  
and then you'd talk about your clinical depression and
I'll tell you about the time my father kissed my mother's knuckles
on my birthday
You'd tell me you're in love with the way I always have a story to tell
and I tell you I wish you had something better than a storyteller
I don't speak about browsing through my parent's wedding pictures for days after their divorce, or the way I couldn't push my bully off their bike
But I wanted to, how I wanted to
Instead I tell you, god has been playing hide and seek with me since I was a child and I keep winning because he hasn't found me yet
and I'm beginning to lose faith
You tell me about the poplar tree in your back yard and writing an angry poem on it's bark and that's how you knew it was fondness
I say all I'm looking for is a slowfuck under the sun
and you tell me it's okay  
because at least for once, you'll want the same

Lately, all the darlings have started tasting the same and all the books keep preaching about the catharsis of going forward and I'll not be condemned to be Lot's wife's' tragedy but ******* this is growing up and everything is shrinking like the bible my mother threw in the washing machine by accident. All the wild has gone to my fingertips and there is no longer an energy to board trains to god-knows where because I know better now.
I don't longer miss you and I call my father daily now and I have a fond appreciation for dead things. Sometimes I think of all the times I prayed and all the times I sinned with you in mind and I know this is the guilt of poets. We are the victim and the instigator, we play our cards right and you resent us for it. And I write to you because it's easy to say things to people you hate. Like kissing someone and not tasting their blood but someone else's and enjoying it. Revenge in, not one, but all the ways you know how.
I often dance naked to Claire de Lune, do you know why? There's an elegance to being primordial and vulnerable. There's grace in things we find obscene. I cannot dance, mind you but I dance thinking you're watching. Much like shaking the hand of  a married man and lingering with his wife within earshot, there's a thrill knowing you'll be caught.
Thus, I write my inhibitions and fears in poetry hoping you'll someday read them with absolute stoicism. I dare you to show a little emotion. I dare you.

Tired

I am tired
I really am
please don't question why
cause I feel a hurricane
tearing at the roots of my sanity
a weight bearing down at my shoulders like rain
yes all I did today was wake up and walk around
yes I didn't leave the house
yes I am just 16

but my energy left with the
openings of sunrise
the cradle that whisked me to sleep
never stops rocking
I am swinging back and forth
wondering when the lullaby will end

so please
Mom
don't ask me why I'm tired
when I have done nothing
I just am
it is hard enough to move
my best friends Depression and Insomnia
hold me in there grasps
It won't matter if I get sleep
Or when the light goes off
I do not want to move
but I do

I drag myself to school
work
my friends
I have many things to do
but this everlasting shadow never leaves
it covers me like a wedding veil
obstructing my vision
I don't know where it comes from
I do not welcome it with open arms
I will forever wish to feel the kiss
of a good nights rest
or a day where I don't have to hold life
like a deadlift

let me rest
let me lie down
because i never really woke up

DUMPY TRUMPY

Dumpy Trumpy
Sat on his ****.
Lumpy Trumpy
Infamous ****.
He is not a friend
To the left or the right
And has no live dog
In the political fight.

Dumpy Trumpy
Pats his own back
Bragging how he is
Way ahead of the pack
Of half-witted politicos
With nothing to offer.
He thinks he will win
On the strength of his coffer.

Dumpy Trumpy
Made a big jump.
His gold plated ****
Made a sickening thump.
He waved his money,
He figured it’s enough
To sway the competition
No matter how tough.

Dumpy Trumpy
His Mussolini face
Deaf to the meaning
Of public disgrace;
He figures that even
If the GOP rejects him
He has lots of money
He’s sure will protect him.

Dumpy Trumpy
Plays to the stands
Of wingnuts and crazies
In disgruntled bands.
He’s sure if he curses
The current regime
He can be President.
At least that’s his scheme.

it's tuesday again,
and the clouds are rolling in,
and the boss wants his paperwork,
and the cat left a hairball on my pillow,
and the car's making a funny noise,
and the gas bill is due,
and the trash has to go out,
and my friend cancelled our appointment,
and i want to go on a date or something,
and i didn't get to finish my coffee,
and my ankle hurts,
and today just ***** because there are
a million things wrong with it
and only a few of them are my fault
but i have to deal with them anyway
and why can't i just relax
and get through this day,
go home and have a drink
and sit on the porch watching when the rain finally hits -
and then i see her,
and i know that what she's going through
is so much worse than these petty things,
and she smiles through it.
so i smile, too.
on a tuesday,
as the clouds are rolling in.

You see things
that others don't see-
you see me.

It took me too long
To find out what was wrong
Imagine the shock that I felt
When I figured out it was me all along

Sleepless nights filled with voices,
memories, and fearful noises.
Hug your pillow and trust your choices.
Breath the poisonous air of muggy summer nights.