Swell
means two different things.

One like
a poor bird's stomach with rice in it.

Another like
good! That's great! I'm happy to hear that!

I'm swollen.
One meaning.

Like the bird.
I'm about to explode.

Ripples in time, wrinkles of fluff.
One more memory, not enough.
Diffuse the thoughts, rebundle them up.
Empty the bottle, fill the cup.
Pour it back and forth, in and out.
Sincere recollections, without a doubt.
Residue builds, the layers form.
Peel them away, reveal the worm.
Squirming side to side, to and fro.
Little Wormy, where to go?
Jump to the left, then the right.
Play that accordion night by night.

Slouching through the alleys
Peel around the corners
Too fast to really notice
All the dead with their mourners

Ignoring as they're walking
To different dreary places
Like grey clapboard houses
Skin peeling off their faces

Hollowing out their conscience
To make room for memories
Drenched in tears and decomp
Looking back on those better days

Fogging up the ***** glass
To peer inside the mind
**** crusted onto dusty things
They didn't want to find

Putting away shameful thoughts
As if the bad things all died with them
Locked up in a secret box
Just waiting for their next victim

You sound like a seashell.
You fall too fast and too hard.
I want to catch you,
but I'm full of secrets.

Closing your eyes and nodding your head.
You are a delicacy too  sweet for me.
I will lick your fingers
and roll into a cave.

I am a mouse, but the bad kind.
Squeaking and stealing and running.
Your bones are light and
I will play fiddlesticks on them.

I can't stand on my hand.
I will not do tricks for you.
I will not show you the splits.
I am not a one-woman balancing act.
No cartwheels, round-offs, or other crazy things.
I shouldn't have to prove to you that I am worth keeping.

I'm ******* everything out of my skull
and putting it in a mason jar.
For safe keeping and for secret keeping.

I'm forcing everything I feel into a field.
A field with deer ticks and poison ivy.
And plenty of mosquitoes.

I'm pushing all of the twists and turns in my stomach
down through my legs and into my toes.
So I can do my nervous dance and never
let my heels touch the ground.

I'm filling up a baby pool with all the things I've learned.
I'll do a dead man's float and get a sunburn.
I'll peel away my flakes of skin and
overnight them to my future self.

Life is like a Feelie Box
Guess what is inside
Faster, slower rusty clocks
Make your feelings hide

Squished together in my mind
Twisted path and sloping hill
In the well that's for the blind
Picture Buckets, sights to fill

Ironically The People talk
Cats and Dogs still cannot speak
Blackboard covered in white chalk
Molding youngins week by bleak

"Have no fear," The Doctor cries
The Farmer's crops are gone
Surround yourself in plastic lies
Pink flamingoes for the lawn

Night-time is dawning fast
Lights unhealthily they flicker
Make the day-time moon still last
While sunbeams can get sicker

pay no attention to god.
he is not like you & me.
(he wears his socks to bed.)

Use this poem to comb through my razor-sharp wit.
I'm an exorcist so let's skip the **** and satanic quips.
I wish I could cut to the chase and erase those demons.
Within reason, I'll do what it takes to make you a-ok. wink
Anyway, I think I'm better suited for ghost busting.
I'm too trusting to be put face-to-face with evil.

"Mind over matter"
only makes you fatter
if you can't see
all the *******
you're feeding yourself.

Ouch. There's a tug somewhere deep in my gut.
Ooh, a pinch almost.
I hunch over, placing one one hand on my stomach.
Squint my eyes and scrunch my nose.

"You okay, ***?"

"Yeah, ma. Can I just try on these jeans and get home? My tummy hurts."

"You feel like you're gonna puke?"

"No, just a little crampy."

The discomfort continues.
I grab the Levi's. Size 12/14.
Shuffle into the dressing room.

"Uh, mom . . . ?"

"Yeah? Are they too big?"

"Uh, no . . . " Then, in hushed tones. "Can you come here?"

"What?"

"Uh . . . I think maybe. I uh, got my period."

Silence. Anticipation. Waiting for the happy mom, excited squeal, and Welcome-to-Womanhood! hug. A My-Little-Girl's-Growing-Up smile at the very least.

Instead, with a straight face, "Oh, well, we'll have to take care of that. Did the jeans work out?"

so I'll sit and I'll stare
I'll stop and I'll watch
all of the things that
my eyes cannot touch
my crutch is broken
your hands have spoken
either with or without
you still lose a token
but if joking about it
shakes the fears right out it
would you still want me?
I highly doubt it.

I'm always running late
And some may say it's fate
Or simply in my DNA
But maybe--just maybe
It's because deep down below
I know that when I die
My tombstone won't read
"If only she could be time."

There's nothing wrong with it.
Staying up till the middle of the night
    to fix something that didn't fixing?
Let go of it. Careful, with prestige.
Underestimated mountain-movers;
    that's who they are.

born again and such a stretch
manifest and etch-a-sketch
my brain is gone, i'm not the best
carry on to ace the test
rhyming words and cracking skulls
parking lots of oily gulls
beating hearts with drumming sticks
mouthing words of stevie nix
getting old and magic wands
dumping bodies into ponds
flash, flash, the smiles of moms
making rent and dropping bombs
gravitate towards running fast
this line's a lemon, and the last

I was going to forgive you for everything.


Until you called me a "real *****" and told me to **** your ****.

Cold pizza.
Storm of the century.
Draped in lies & love.
Funny glasses.
Shark tank disaster.
Too old & cold for *******.
Flashed before me.
Rollerskates. Pardon me, "-blades."
Don't like pizza crust.
Manning up, facing demons.
Worst midnight snack ever.