I'm a little bit here
and a little bit there,
my eyes, they dart,
my lips, they part,
and on and on
go the thoughts
during our chat,
this way and that,
here and now gone,
humming a song
while writing a line,
while drawing a face,
while lost in space.

I pet my cat,
I feel her fur,
I hear her purr,
I'm a little bit here
and a little bit there,
I'm in my chair,
then up then down,
smile and frown,
remember a thing
and forget the present,
scatter, find,
lose my mind,
leave the room
to fetch a broom,
see something else
on the shelf,
examine, pass,
step in the glass.

leave again,
find my pen,
write a note,
forget the quote,
look it up,
follow the thread,
realize I'm
still in my bed,
my foot is bleeding,
there's glass on the floor,
someone at the door,
could I have done more
to do a little less--
to clean the mess,
and write the note
and save the pen
and find the quote?

I hear her voice
the child inside,
coming in through
the static of
my constant critic
radio, she's been
screaming 'that's enough,
that's too much!' for
so long, she's been
hurt, she's been
wronged by a louder
sound I'm more used to tuning into,
the station of
doubt, fear, suspicion,
so much I've lost sight
of how much those
words sting,
bring
me down, tear me up,
convince me that I'm
not enough.

I think in causing
this initial pain I'm
saving myself from
the surprise of my
own mediocrity,
but living with a
lead coat on to
protect me from
the bullets of a
battle I'm no longer
fighting, it just
weighs me down,
till I'm ready to
give up, and I think
what's the point of
sparing that pain in
exchange for a less
humane option?

I feel like screaming and
I feel like doing nothing,
always teaming with
this imbalance,
not quenching either thirst.
By holding my tongue
and quieting my voice,
and interrupting my attempt
to do nothing by worrying,
worrying, and then that nothing becomes
something, it becomes wasted
energy, anxiety gone rotten,
a fruitless activity, producing
neither rest nor product,
my motivation to freeze
and stiffen and wait and
recede overpowers even the
fear of my own judgement,
who loves to blare loudly
that I'm lazy, that I'm
not enough, this stuff
i do is meaningless,
and I need to prove my
worthiness by being
exceptional in all ways, not
only all ways, but always,
not just sometimes,
and god stop complaining,
about the hurt and the pain,
it's so boring, it's so
standard, it's so privileged,
it's so bland, and
the more I do it the less
value I hold, i'm told
by my own self,
every poem that i write
that pleads for sympathy
and reaches out for connection
is just another title to add
to my collection of pathetic
writings, proving my biting
nails and troubled mind
do not an artist make,
but that it takes much more
talent and brain and effort
and refrain for this to
be any more than words
that fall to the floor to
be stepped on forever more.

It's like the two haven't met,
these different parts of me.
hard to see how they could be
residing in the same person.
But still, I think they'd get along.
After all they both belong
in the same party of misfits
that comprise this puzzled mind.
Fuzzy, trying to find
the connection between my
confident leader, and the shy
private eye, studying, studying
to see how she can make everyone
just a little more happy, just a little less
suspicious of just how vicious
I am on the inside,
always trying to hide these
thoughts of destruction,
disruption from my joy and ease,
I tease out the depression,
find the compression in my chest
and build the tension with the best
suspension of disbelief that
I'm still ok, and this is sustainable,
and maybe happiness is attainable,
but for now i'll just be so sad
I can't breathe because eventually
I'll get back to me, right?
the ending is in sight....right?

I'm arrived and I'm here
and I'm still just me.
my personality didn't exchange
i thought with that kind of range,
so far away, i couldn't stay
just the same.

but i'm no different, i'm not
working out daily and finding
my inner peace,
I thought travel held the keys
to improving myself, beyond
recognition.

where's the discipline?
i thought my derision of
habit would fall away,
shedding my awful in my stay.
i could be thin, i could win;
where's the discipline?

In buying the ticket
i thought i'd agreed
i was also buying the seed
to grow a new me, prettier,
funnier, healthier, sunnier.
but i'm here and i'm near
a breaking point.

I want to shed
my fat and my lack
of focus and sense,
dispense with the nonsense
and get sharp and get cool,
come home like a knife
come home a better wife.

I was so affirmed
By only a text
It took so little
To warm my cheek

It made my week, and
I paid the price.
So nice, so nice, so
Don't speak, don't seek
Better. can there
Be better for
Someone like me?

I don't see any
Alternative, I
Was told I wasn't
Worth it, a cold
Honesty shared
So early, I cared
So earnestly, spared
No hurt from
The long line of
Just fine, but unkind,
Men and boys.

They deployed
Compliments so
Sparingly, with a
Tactical training
So practical for
Blaming and shaming,
With just enough
Sugar for my starving,
Unloved self, carving
Little marks on my
Arm, so alarmed
To find out I might
Get your kindness, fight
For the scraps of
Your light, but the
Rays were traps to
Capture my body's
Honey and I'm left
Bereft, faulted,
Confused, assaulted.

Will, I hear your voice, I
Still, I have no choice,
My heart is that strong and
Apart just feels wrong.

I've memorized your hug,
I'm sensitized to the snug
Embrace of your arms
My face nestled, no harms

Can reach my core,
Can breach even your
Simple affection,
This supple connection

Belongs to you and me,
The wrongs and the fees
A small price to pay
To fall in love every day.