I have a difficult time saying, Awkward.
And it's not easy to spell.
It isn't forward, or backward,
Just awkward.
Oh! That was awkward, the duped say.
He's awkward, but will grow into those feet, quipped the coach.

When I met you again,
Awkward hardly was enough to define the moment.
And, months later, it's still awkward being near you.
I need to touch your hand, purposefully,
To get over this awkwardness, because
I don't see it in your eyes,
Or hear it in your voice.

We don't have time for awkwardness;
A word so onomatopoeic,
It's awkward saying it.

We are both shyly engaging with the madness on screen,
distorted faces, screams from nowhere –
I don‘t believe in hesitation,
having always indulged in my impulsivity.
Not used to waiting, calculating, anticipating.
I was very careful not to let you sink in,
although your teeth aren‘t very sharp.

I don’t pay attention, I’m too focused now
on how my arm is pressing against your shoulder –
this golden halo
that your touch casts onto the here-and-now;
no moment can ever be insignificant again.
Oh, it feels so nice to be with you,
real nice.
Makes me wanna travel all the distance
from Tokyo right to your doorstep.


Morning arrives with it’s awkward limbs that will be drowned in black coffee. Yesterday there seemed to be no more blue tomorrows, but now your eyes greet me and I don’t know what to say.

Things ****.

            Tough luck.

The boy stood in front of his class
The short story unit was ***
The teacher had them do presentations
For they all had to do representations

The boy stood in front of random humans
The class looked like Roman ruins
Most people were gone
Thank Satan for that one

The boy’s hands were getting sweaty
No he did not have spaghetti
He was already forgetting his lines
It was like in front of his eyes, there were blinds.

The boy was a stuttering mess
At least compared to last time it was less
He sat down with his face bright red
He felt like he could drop dead

But then the class started clapping
The rest of the presentations were wrapping
The teacher handed back their rubric
The kid felt kind of sick

The teacher, with a smile, gave mine to me
I had gotten a B..

(True story)

Aren’t you cold?

I.
Me?

the wind swept up the solemn yellow leaves, along with my
solemn yellow feet,
and dusted off the crumbs of yester-was
and yester-would
from the hem of my puffer...

Well,
listen.

I hold your heart in my hand,
it holds itself in my palm,
my palm holds itself onto your heart…
Hold your eyes a bit longer and soon, you too,
can hold mine…

So, no.

(Silence. I shivered from the core, to no avail)

II.
Me?

Meanwhile, Amber October and Brown November lie like crumpled,
dryad carcasses beside my feet.

Hm, I said,

I lament!
the skin on my fingers have frittered away from
countless, dead hours
in colorless computers,
but alas, not from the cold.

(trite)

Hmm, I said,

the skin on my fingers
hangs like a nail.
Never have I thought an unwise flick of a wrist could render me an onion.

(Dear Lord)

A curt laugh, cheap,
cheap-cheap, like the swallows.

but yes,
I am
alright.

(Silence. We both shivered from the core, to no avail)

Blue eyes distract the sunshine of your smile
Drawn in with the teasing “shut up” look given
Dark blonde hair cut just beyond the shoulder
Almost childlike
Takes you back to a childhood crush
It feels the same
Moths dance around the glow in your stomach
Sweltering heat slices through the body
Paralyzed in the moment
Wanting to run while never wanting to leave that presence
Eyes still pierce you forcing a gleeful smile
Natural, pure the laugh that emerges from the stomach
Forces one across the chasm
As the giggling ensues the gap closes
Until the two collide
The feeling is full

Why is it that what i hate
About what i am
Is what endears me to others
Am i the opposite
Of what i was intended to be?
If so this practical joke
Has crossed the line from funny to cruelty.

I hate not knowing what to say
I hate my shy dispensation
But others love my pathetic attempts
As a presentable representation
Of a functioning human being
I'm not and that's no lie.

So where does anyone see any appeal?
Am i blind or do my very eyes lie?