Writing down the truth
Cold liquid floods my body
Deserved guilt and shame flows in my blood
Diluting my good
Fighting red pained tears of weakness
My left eye weeps
A pathetic, pitiful drop that returns upon each wipe
I can’t allow it to flow
But I deserve to cry
I’m frightened
Frightened it will open something that I can’t contain
I’ll wait till I’m home, alone
Where I can reflect on my selfish desires
My mindless ignorance and lustful greed
Innocence? Probably not
I write as he breathes heavy next to me, carefree
My stomach drops
There was no satisfaction found
Fleeting,
Careless,
Carelessly giving away a part of me
That should remain unfamiliar
This isn’t poetry
There’s nothing poetic about
Deceiving love

We're standing in the middle of the forest
and there's no one around.
Your hand is in mine but your

skin is as cold as your eyes.
A bird flies aimless above us-
who is more trapped? you ask.

I don't reply, but my heart shakes.
I feel dead as the snow, curling down
like kinks in an old man's hair.

Everything is white, as though God
took his paintbrush and white-washed
all the emotion away.

I'm scared, though I don't show it.
I stumble. We move through it.
Your hand is in mine.

I should silence
this troublesome whispering
inside my heart

I've already considered
the plain facts
of absence

Falling headlong
into its gorge
too soon

Not knowing who might
drown in their own eyes
night after night

It's not my wish to punish
or pain another soul
beyond my own.

called


******* three AM  

fast asleep I didn't answer

that is when the earth shook
the 747 crashed and two people
aboard survived
and the survivors  appeared on CNN thanking God

I was having a dream about
babysitters I think or
raw bare muffs
muffins getting stuffed
i forget

anyways
I appeared in my dream all staring
back inside me laughing
you are an imbecile
my me said coarse
harsh

I then awoke
I ain't gonna take **** from my **** self
tried to call me out
fight like a man
you imbecile

I had divided thoughts
I and me presumed
and doubts along a thin line
left or right
and in between

as fisticuffs met jaws and legs tangled up
noses bent but
most of the damage went to
knuckles aching again

that night
God's office
didn't call
I don't
know why