You are not who I thought
I felt it all along

I should never deny my gut
When the feeling
Is so strong.

You are all wrong
Throw me back into the throng

If you have won
Then let it be done.

This is no longer fun.

I keep waking up
When it's dark
And thinking it's a new day.

But regardless
of the churning minutes
That thicken slowly
on the back burner
Until they've become days and months
I won't feel anything change.

I've got more pennies
Left over from more purchases
Than I ever need make
But I can't spend them-
Not all in one place.

See they're really memories and moments
You say you saw as valueless

Put a hundred in one
And i'm still
Financially powerless.

I'm regressing into lackadaisical
Attempts at metaphor
Writing without a muse
Is such a chore.

So the pain and the deception
Yes I will return for more
Even if door-to-door
We're a hundred miles away.

All or nothing
Never left me with anything.

When we fell off-
I grew happier and
You
lost touch

You told me from the beginning
I should expect as much.

I guess I just thought my touch
Wouldn't make you feel
So cold.

I want to try something new
But I can't fix you-

Or so I'm told.


C.e.M. 12.16.14

Twist me into
A sick, sad fool;  
I would,
I would for you.

C.eM. 12.13.14

Because in the end I'm still standing
in the corner
like I like
or don't like
I have yet to decide but
I'm laughing with myself;

vanity never got me anything.

So I'll wear exactly what I like or
what you want me to like or
whatever I found on the floor
and I'll collect more and more
until I finally realize what I chore it is

Pretending who you're going to be each day.

Dress me in grey
Stick me in a simple box
Set me on fire and
throw me to the rocks in the sky
that always reflected the dreamy mist of another life
into my vacant eyes.

C.e.M. 12.12.14

I've written pages upon pages of
Poetry
About the ways you find
To know me

But these attempts will always
Falter
And eventually fail-
Maybe this wasn't supposed to be.

You ask me what that means
And I don't have an answer.
Maybe you'll find one in the lap
Of last weekend's dancer.


When I no longer have the words to write
I hope you trace my freckles with
Cracking hands-
Sand me down with selfish demands.

There is a lot to discover
But you were never interested in
The Braille of my squirming skin.

When the carnivorous sun
Comes
I will sink to the bottom
Of a sunny sea
Turned desert

You might be the antidote
To a calloused misery

But in reality...
Our interactions were just short
Of dreary.

You were never quite what
I dreamed you up
To be.

Try not to take it too personally,
This rehearsal of simple dexterity
And our perplexing lack
Of similarities.

What are you doing with me?
I don't have a place here-

I will always awake first,

Bleary eyed and swimming against
The tides of a wordless agreement
That I've tried to please

I know when I leave you don't-

No, You won't

Grieve.  

Should I just leave?


C.e.M 12.9.14

"How do we even have fun sober"
A candy coated joke
Left to choke on when your throats dry
And you're too high to talk-

Just cough or walk it off
But when you come back
Honey, mind a top off?
Better tips if you take off your top
morality is a short drop.

C.e.M 12.3.14

Complex or not
I always come out on top.

The love you hold in
So moldy from years of sitting
Unattended
Stuck in a cabinet of
Miscellaneous memories
Has been dug out by me.

Now kindergarten has regurgitated
Feelings of jealousy you grip
Tightly
In secrecy.

What is the game
In befriending me?

It's not going to be
The way you dream it to be.

Because now?
He sleeps with me.