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Dakota Hobday Jun 2018
I have a bestfriend that’s clinging to me -
It’s forever wrapped around my body.
I try to shake it off and be free,
But it wants to keep me away from everybody.

“Everything is dangerous,” it whispers to me,
And I do my best to block its voice out.
“They’re all going to leave you, can’t you see?”
I can’t lie, it sometimes makes me doubt.

I have a bestfriend that’s clinging to me -
It’s forever wrapped about my body.
I try to shake it off and be free,
But it wants to keep me away from everybody.

“You’re not good at anything,” it constantly cries,
And I fear it’s speaking the truth this time.
“You’ll never be able to do what you want!” it advises -
Trying to change anything now feels like a crime.

I have a bestfriend that’s clinging to me -
It’s forever wrapped about my body.
I try to shake it off and be free,
But it wants to keep me away from everybody.

“I’m trying to keep you safe!” it screams,
All of its warning alarms are growing too loud.
“You’re too worthless to have dreams.”
The sirens are making my mind overcrowded.

I have a bestfriend that’s clinging to me -
It’s forever wrapped about my body.
I try to shake it off and be free,
But it wants to keep me away from everybody.

“Can’t you leave me alone already?” I cry,
And it just laughs at my feeble tries,
Saying, “not until the day you die-”
“I’m training you to be wise.”

I have a bestfriend that’s clinging to me -
It’s forever wrapped about my body.
I try to shake it off and be free,
But it wants to keep me away from everybody.

I can’t breath, I don’t want your warnings anymore!
“You can’t get rid of me, I’m everything to you.”
All of the warning sirens have combined into a loud roar,
Not a single thought can actually get through.

I have a bestfriend that’s clinging to me -
It’s forever wrapped about my body.
I try to shake it off and be free,
But it wants to keep me away from everybody.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“What are you doing to me?” it faintly panics,
“I thought we were bestfriends until death!”
My mind starts to quiet and I feel a true balance.

“Not anymore!” I shout into the silence,
“This is my mind and I get to decide what’s right!”
It softly cries, “don’t you want my guidance?”
I say nothing, and force it to retreat despite.

I had a bestfriend that clung to me -
It tried to choke my body.
I shook it off to be free,
I don’t want to hide from everybody.
  Jan 2018 Dakota Hobday
iva
tell me that dreadful story about the mayflies
& that burnt-out summer
we spent in the shadows of oak trees, our shoulders
raw & peeling.

everything had that sick patina of
“i loved you” in the sunslick light, where it was always
half-past some forgotten appointment.
no sense of urgency; no sighs;

no breath but what you’d give me.

i think it went something like this:
we go back to the lake with the tall grass & then i pull all the words right out of your open mouth. you’re not in love with me yet, but maybe you never were.

the fisherman on the next dock catches three carp and then a fourth, but by this time we’re already gone & i don’t see him teasing the hook from between their lips; don’t hear the wet
gasp of their fat bodies hitting the water.

okay, so let’s hear it your way.
the sky was hazy & so was your mind; maybe the heat
was getting to you. everything was sore & dark yellow,
so maybe i can’t blame you for squeezing a little too hard.

i take you down to the lake with the fish bones & i say something like
“i love you”, or maybe i make you say it first.
point is, i’m looking at you like i’m pulling teeth & someone
somewhere is hurting;

so maybe i can’t blame you for everything after.

you take me back to your grandmother’s garden & feed me heirloom tomatoes rolled in sugar; i kiss you with a dripping red mouth. the mosquito bites & blisters don’t bother us just yet, but that doesn’t mean you don’t draw blood.

you ask where it hurts & i say: here, here, here; so
quick i can hardly think, everything all sticky-sweet & unbearable.
you call me a liar, & i tell you to take anything, anything
you ever could’ve wanted, if you'd only just let it be me.
I know nothing about Chesapeake, VA, but this poem made me feel like i'd had some late-summer one-sided affair with some pretty-eyed gal and felt too soft to be southern, so Virginia it is.
  Jan 2018 Dakota Hobday
iva
my god with bramble & lightning bugs
******* in his hair, he kneels with
brown earth palms pressed to the unquiet dirt
and hums a childhood melody.

my god with flowers on the riverbank,
ankles slick with mud & the dead things that lay just underneath. he whispers, how proud i am of you, how hard you tried, i hope you were full of love, i hope you loved, i hope you love —

my god with rosewater & candle wax,
watches me bless another girl with the softest kisses
a sinner can musterwipes my tears away with callouses
worn down gentle.

the light breaks.
there are no trumpets nor blood,
only his laugh lines beaming bronze in the sunlight.
hey uhhhh jesus wasn’t white & god loves the gays!!!
  Nov 2017 Dakota Hobday
simone
this is is the curse summer has gifted me:

ninety days of subway stations and
over-zealous music tastes and
yearning for some different faces while
ignoring them in all your places
placemats dripping in spilled drinks and
way too much for one to think and
saying yes to too many suggestions
whilst ignoring all of the important questions

drummers with harsh words and nice eyes and
a dad with no clue how to apologize and
feeling pitch black in a field of light and
why haven't i showered since sunday night?

it's plants you grow that always die
and stupid books about stupid lives
but you're at the library almost all of the time
and you still lie awake just before the sun can rise

its how meditation lies
and all reciprocation has died
it's your own foreign tongue and
a longing for anyone
it's your word against yours since
no one cares to listen and

summer seems to have gone on too long
gonna write a poem everyday again.
  Nov 2017 Dakota Hobday
simone
i broke my own heart just to see if it still works
it may be troubled but
its mostly torched
he said he'd burn his house down just to get me some warmth
he said he'd give me his heart
i asked "whats that worth?"

it all seems to have fallen again
i miss my home and i miss things ive never had
miss finding familiarity not so gut wrenchingly sad
how old do i have to get before i start to not feel so bad?

how long before my silence starts to feel less involuntary, before passion beats purpose
before i can love without excuses
before spiraling help a bit less
and when i agree before it depends

he said i love you so much but i cant deal with what youre going through
i said wow man, sorry i had to do that to you
next time you try to find something to hate me for
ill go head and let you ******* choose
when u dont know what write so u write about made up characters in ur head

— The End —