Apparently now
If you end a text message with a period
It means you’re *******
Because who needs a period
When each of your utterances
Is circumscribed
By a thought bubble

At least that’s what I heard
On a podcast
(I’m an old)

So if I text you
And use punctuation
Will you take offense?

Will you be able to tell
My old-school emojis
From that punctuation?

I certainly hope so :-/

It's been so long we're together
And now it feels like we're stranger

Those happy faces you guys saw me
Those warm hugs you guys gave me
And those three words you guys told me
Until such time I knew was not meant for me.

My mind has gone blank.
Yet I have so much to do.
A cacophony of voices critiquing  
But those helping are so few.

How could the instructions be any clearer,
Than how they were written down?
How do I get people to realise that
If they don’t stop piling on this ****, I will drown.

Nobody seems to want to talk to each other
Yet they expect me to know it all
With several teachers whose tones want to crucify me
But who’s words say I shouldn’t take the fall.

And it’s not my responsibility
To do this work for you
And really it would get finished a lot faster
If you did some of this too.

And I understand that you have lots of ideas
So, you want to change things constantly.
But do YOU understand that everything you change
Is a few more hours work for me?

I've no time to finish this poem  
Because I have to go complete another task.
So, I’ll leave a copy right here for you
And hope it helps you see through my obvious mask.

It feels like I'm screaming into a void
Yet I know you all can hear.
I can’t figure out why you don’t respond,
Is it anger? Maybe fear?

Or is it apathy towards
A fellow human soul.
Or maybe you just think
That my tragedy has gotten old.

Two years on and I still
Feel like ****,
Still struggling on my own
To deal with it.

Two years and I could still
Cry at the drop of a hat.
But you just don’t seem ready
To deal with that.

I could not make it anymore  
Obvious if I tried;
That I've been falling apart
Since my brother died.

You told me to stop
Hiding how I feel behind a wall.
That if I spoke honestly
There would be help from you all.

I no longer even try
To hide how I feel
When you ask, my answer
Of pain Is real.

So, I'll keep talking,
And you’ll keep ignoring what I say
I'll keep talking
And I'll never be okay.

Don't ask me for more that I can give,
I can only guess the consequences.

My heart and soul push against my mouth every time you analyze my answers,
sealing it shut with empty humor and nervous glances at the clock.

Your eyes scan me as an intrigued scientist would a lab rat.

Dismissing it as curiosity doesn't make me feel less of an open skull,
brain laid out on a table before your intrusive fingers.

Our languages got fixed up, I said one day.
You believe in unrestrained openness and I believe in boundaries.

A dog and a cat play together in different speeds.

I understand you feel like I'm not giving you enough,
but I don't want to pay for our friendship with every passing thought that crosses my mind, every emotion my heart has ever felt.

Sharing is like giving you blood.
Each drop drains me more and more until my heart is left empty, my vains running dry.

I know they don't exist, but sometimes I can't help but see you as a vampire.

When I say I don't want to talk about it you interpret it as an invitation to probe farther.

Telling you that it's none of your business would only turn you against me and I do not feel like running circles around my apologetic lies.

You said that the cracks you make in me will deepen our friendship, I'm afraid of falling down the endless void they create.

When I told you of the blood and the cracks,
you pitied me and said you'd wait for another moment to search into my psyche.

A venomous snake hiding in a fruitful bush, my privacy is not a level to forcefully unlock.

I appreciate what you have shared with me, I have shared planty with you as well.
Don't weigh them against each other, the percentages are nothing but a false debt.

And after you hear this poem, don't run to me with glistening tears and ask me for more that I can give, I don't owe you my life.

Like me, my cat speaks

without complicated words:


our body language.

I like how our hands seem to have their own
conversations, apart from our mouths.
I like how we tell things we can't seem to say out loud.
In these spaces between,
Our fingers meet and they fit.
Perfectly.
No walls, no secrets

I like how our hands know how to be together
In times we can't seem to.

Her body pulls away, outlying

Ask the mountains
Question the clouds

What is rotation's logic?
Have we spun fallaciously all along?

Communicating with inexact words?
Kissing off-target?
*******, an imprecise expression?

She settles now on unapproachable horizon

Learn from the shore
Understand the sea

Neither dare, nor desire, to claim
For the indignity or cumber of a difficult collide

Start anew by holding hands
Discover the "we" in you and her

Ever so gently, allow her to orbit
The offered affection
On her own terms

The heart will again probe for
A returning circuit to attachment

Her body will move closer