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Michael DeVoe Apr 2018
The jagged edges of my fingernails are mountain ridges of anxiety I’ve chewed into their earth
I climb them daily
But the storms are so severe and I often turn back
Michael DeVoe Apr 2018
There’s not a whole lot of my body I’m proud of
I’ve got an extra ten pounds on each my toes I gotta lose
My mirror is the biggest ******* I know what with always showing me, me, and ****
But when I lie next to a woman
With my arms around her
I can make my hands so big across her belly
That I know there is nothing out there that can reach her in here
And that
I’m proud of that
Michael DeVoe Apr 2018
There is a little boy
Who walked a dirt road
It was lined with birch trees
He carried a cello twice his size
Dragged his feet
Kicked up a cloud of dust
Took breaks on big roots
Played out of tune melodies to passers by
Newsboy cap turned up
His only quarter a hint

There is a small girl
She has a bow on her dress
A bow on each pig tail
And her best go of one on her shoes
She eats cucumber sandwiches
While her grandmother
All eighty years of her
Drinks hurricanes and talks up a storm with the woman down the block
She learns words like “give a ****” and “lord knows”

There is a gentleman
Hat hung beside him on a nail
Sitting in a tire up porch top rocker
His snores hum Amazing Grace
The chair squeaks harmony
His leather shine tin is crusted from disuse
Never quite remembers much
Still knows mama’s cooking by smell alone
He leaves voicemails to busy grandkids

A cloud of dust passes by the old man
Tickles his nose
Causes him to sneeze so hard he wakes up
Mama and the little bow haired girl
Who giggles so loudly the little boy picks up his hat and runs
Michael DeVoe Apr 2018
She’s using the word smooth like it’s a venereal disease
Says I have too much of it
Doesn’t want to catch it
Says I’m too rehearsed
Too programmed
Too automatic response
Wants to hear a genuine thought from me
Like every 90s rom com from my childhood wasn’t a lecture in a class I was taking on this very moment in this very bar
I mean what else was I supposed to do when you fell into my lap after tripping over a bar stool
I was just supposed to let you walk away without comment
I was just supposed to say bye
I some how wasn’t supposed to ask you if that fall from heaven hurt?
I mean don’t be ridiculous
Michael DeVoe Apr 2018
Sometimes when I’m playing Tetris I leave small gaps when I could complete lines
I do this to keep from winning

Sometimes when I am cooking dinner I leave out one ingredient
I do this to see if I notice

Sometimes when I clean my house I leave one room messy
I do this to see if I really need anything in that pile

Sometimes I try to do something all the way correct
I do this to remember I couldn’t even if I tried
Got to get some of that bad ones out of the way to find the fruit in 30/30s
Michael DeVoe Oct 2017
I am a teddy bear made from loosely sewn together patches of cardigans passed
You are a warrior trapped inside a glass jar full of butterflies they sewed inside of my stomach.
You, warrior, hunt monarch dragons from the backs of black bears draped in the patchworked wings of fallen enemies
You are iridescent in the sun that pierced through the holes in my slipped stitch skin
You have woven a basket from antennae and leaf stems you found on the ground
Lassoed the last of the mourning cloaks and tied them to your basket
And like a butterfly air balloon you rose
Saw the battle ground below you
Flew towards the light above you
From within your winged chariot you directed your flock out of the mason jar home they sewed you inside of me
Saw all the butterflies you once drove away fluttering aimlessly
And drove them once again towards the space between my seams
They pushed against my fabric
They pushed against my thread
And they burst forth, scattered, iridescent in the sun a kaleidoscope of butterflies in the sun
My skin fell to pieces covered in stuffing on the floor
The jar shatter echoed off the walls
And I was a boy
And you were Malala Yousafzai
And I was in love
And you were warrior
And I dreamed of a life with you
And you dreamed of freedom
And I reached for you
And you kept flying
And I waved goodbye
And you, warrior, did not look back
Michael DeVoe Sep 2017
I have proverbial boot straps
And I pull them everyday
They bundle tight the kitchen knives
And keep the guns at bay

But there will be a time
I mean there's gonna be a day
Where I let loose these imaginary shoestrings
And take my life away

And you may think don't go
You might even yell please stay
This is not a game of wills
I have no cards left to play

Do not conflate my mental illness
With my willingness to stay
This world and you were beautiful
Come what may
If you are feeling unsafe or in anyway not in control of your behavior please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline (U.S) 1-800-273-8255
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