Caution: Objects in poems are deeper than they appear.

The more shallow it looks, the deeper it is.

Please wear your life vest at all times,

And may we take this moment to highly recommend the buddy system?

We happen to have one available if you are unable to locate a buddy.  😊

I’d forgotten
Or discovered

Your eyes like faded denim
The smile you’d try to hide
The way you like to tease me
Can’t make you laugh although I try

Like laying in fields of lilac,
tour Tassie attached to my hip.
I rang you like religion
Just to tell you about the trip

there are hard days, they are long ones
I bare just to hear your voice
When my head is filled with static
You’re cutting out the noise

Laying in a dingy tent,
staring at the Milky Way
You told me how you felt for them
the honesty cast fears away

We went to two different festivals
one day after the next
It felt like we were both there
But watching different sets

To wake up to you in winter
Samson whines me back to sleep
The mattress is barren without you both
But The bed’s too warm too leave

You send your love in lettered form
Like medicine in mail
and though the sentiment is old
I found relevance today

Sometimes I fret that you don’t care
How foolish and ambivalent
Sometimes I need reminders of
why I loved you to begin with

“All my roses like to go,”
He says looking outside.
“I am sure they’ll come again,
In the spring they’ll come out,
Wherever they do hide,
And I’ll be able to rest.”
    
    Something has eaten my flowers...again
    And I am not sure who to blame.
    I take such nice care of them
    But they never seem to grow.
    Maybe there is a mole…
    Yes feasting away my crop
    Or perhaps I am too early
    And the chill has made them stop.
    I say laments and I cry
    But all I ever do
    Is shrivel up and die.
    
    I will try something else,
    Roses always die too soon
    I will try something else!
    And then I do nothing.
    Weeds and vines grow about
    Clogging my drains as they sprout.
    My garden feels empty
    All I want is one thing
    But then I'm left with plenty.
    
    You once had a nice presence
    Here some time ago
    But then one day you stopped
    And left me all alone.
    Roses, they are telling me
    That I am not the one they want
    Somehow I’m not good enough
    And I should just stop.

    Barbous thing you tricked me
    Was it ever mine to want
That i gave you all the conditions
And you gave me naught.
So I look in puddles
And hear about others success
But all I do is wilt
And in it I regress.

I feel like gypsum
A minor step in between
    Stale and used
    Time has expired for me.
    Why are there so many vines,
    Why is there so many weeds,
    All vexing me in all directions
    I wish I could fall asleep.

    My face is cracking plaster
    As I start to weep
    I feel my mind sinking
    And I start to dream.
    You are the ****** one
    With little of success.
    I am the ****** one,
    They know what is best.

    I changed everything
    So i could be adequate
    I played the role they liked
    But in the end I am looked at
    In bitter thoughts and spite.

    There is a curious thing
growing in my garden.
The vines have blossomed
And the weeds bear fruit.
Is this the allure of sadness
Or just an unrealized truth
Because I sit and look
At the thing I ignored.

So here I take
What has been given
And we brush away
The mistake I’m living
So stop with all this fake peace
You should have been
Honest with me.

So find some sugar songbird,
You can bury me alive.
But I’m not the one
Having something to hide.

Here is my garden,
There is plenty of space
And i don’t want to live
Under your passive glance.

Here is my chance
I’ll try to let go.
But I am the memory of someone
They will always know.

As the last tune finally escapes the sparrows throat

The echo is stronger than the original breathing note

Depressing that we can only acknowledge that with time

And to only give praise to them who are sitting in Charon's boat

symptoms include:
brushing my teeth in the middle of the day
wearing my pajamas three days in a row
failing classes i understand
listening to regina spektor's old albums on repeat
wearing your flannel to sleep
talking to myself, forgetting you aren't around

fatality rate:
high

recommended:
a soft kiss on the lips at two am
as we fall asleep
talking about committing arson

awaken all people and try, try, try
if it can't be done should we all just die
that's not the conclusion we're all searching for
at least if we try, we might find the door
get up off your but and learn all the facts
the country’s gone crazy by the way we all act
let's see things, with respect, and love our fellow man
before it's too late and we lose the whole plan

Brian Hill - 2020 # 238

I hate you
But I love you

I love you
But I hate you

the ******* version of me
always got the most things.