In our world technological,
Here's how to talk to gadgets digital,
"Now, listen up, keyboard and router,
Not to mention dysfunctional mouser...
Are you listening to me carefully?
(I am talking to them, but silently),
I do have replacements for each of thee,
I see a future ahead of you three,
Tossed into the gaping jaws of a bin,
off to the council tip, repository of sin,
Did you hear that? Listening in,
Stop trying to do my head in!"
Now they're behaving dutifully,
Technology responding beautifully,
"I'm warning each one of thee,
No more messing around with me!"
Yes, how to talk to technology!
(But make sure you do it silently!)

They said:
"Give it four months."

So I trusted them.

Two months had passed..
It's okay. I'd loved to tell myself.
Even though I knew that nothing had really changed

But I waited
          
I waited
and waited..

But you're still there in my mind.
I honestly don't know what went wrong.

It's been 4 years and I still have a crush on you
And people say I may 'fall for you'.

I'm not quite sure about that, though.
Because sometimes,
I'm mad at you;
Just because I can't seem to stop liking you

Even though I really want to.

We were only twelve when I knew what a 'crush' is-
The definition has a 'U' in it.

Funny enough, you used to make puns like that.

Gosh.. I miss the old you. . .

We're both sixteen now;
I witness you moved in to our school at eleven;
You grew out of your..-
Your country-ish behaviour;

I fell for the funny you at twelve;
I saw the flirty glances at fourteen;
And at fifteen,
You're a flirtee to my friend, too.

But I still like you.

I don't know what is wrong with me
..or you.
Yes, you dysfunction me, without even trying.

I want to hate you for that.

But,

People say,
If someone was to stay there,
It means God have destined them together.
Some time,
Somewhere,
Somehow,
For some reason..

Only God knows.

Is it the case with you and I?
Because I wish it was all a lie
When now, I open my eyes,
I realize
That I only have another one year
To see you.

They say:
"Get over it.
It's been four years!"

But they don't know
That this girl has actually,
Fallen
For an ex-new kid..

You ask me why we never talk anymore
It's like you've erased from your memory
The fact
That we never did
Maybe you don't remember
The days that you told me
That I was worthless
Maybe you've forgotten
That December afternoon
When you manically drove full speed
Into the car ahead of us
And cried of disappointment
When you found your family
Still breathing
Or perhaps you can't recall
The Friday night
When I told you that I wanted to take my life
And you went to the kitchen
To hand me a knife
Maybe you think
That your newfound success
Makes you a better parent
Maybe you've convinced yourself
That envelopes of money
And elaborate gifts
Will heal open wounds
And fade tattooed scars
Maybe in your mind
You've rewritten the past
But I'm stuck on a page
That I simply cannot turn

Heart pounding

hands shaking

at that terrible

two worded

phrase:

"leave me."

A silent plea

made in the middle of the night

out of nowhere:

"please, let me go."

It makes you want to hold tighter

to swallow them up in your chest where you can keep them

and nurture them

and ensure their safety:

"we're hurting each other. It'll be for the best."

Maybe you are hurting each other,

but the flame burns too beautifully to put out

and though your mind numbs with it so do the bad feelings:

"you're consuming me. I can't be like you."

No, but they can be something better.

Though they're laying still, you can feel their aching struggle:

"you scare me. Your eyes are dark. Your mind is dark. I think I may hate you."

Oh, how you want to crack their skull against the granite and watch their blood spread across it.

Even still, you only wind your arms more tightly around them:

"I may love you, too, but I can't be sure like this."

How? How can they be unsure when you look at them like they hold the keys, and they look at you like the Frankenstein monster turned beautiful?

They shift, just a little.

Your fingers curl in their shirt:

"leave me."

You want to cradle them in your arms and you want to scratch marks into their cheek and you want

their eyes to bleed and you want their eyes to see and you

want them to feel the pain they've caused you and you want to keep them from the wrong air and

you

want to protect them and expose them and yo

u want to be responsible for both their life and death and you d

on't

want them

to go.

You would rather hold them hostage than let them unlock their cage.

You can't let them win.

The pillow stifles their breathing.

You question me with insipid candor
As though it was worth an answer
Repeat the same deeds with silver tongue
A talented, insolent dancer
Do you not see the ripples and wakes
The wan smiles pasted on your son's face
Reflect just once on your mistakes
The painful sound your cadence makes
Crashing like waves as it's always been

I am forced to wayward roam alone
To receive my only splendor as obscene
I am cursed to despise anything my own
Until only perspective renders me clean
The strength within is all I've sought
Through years of patience finally bought
Destroyed in a second with one wrong thought
So I hold fast to what my numb heart has wrought
Wash away, and never let you in

Perhaps one day you'll breach the shore
As a man who relishes in serendipity
Abandoning everything else for whom he values more
Who trades an ocean of isolation for an epiphany
But until you know a man from a mouse
Until you know a lover from a spouse
Not until you know a child from a louse
Until then I'll be waiting for you at the lighthouse
*Waiting to call you Dad again

A new age beauty of
liquor filled livers and cigarette killers
quickly spread across the lands
in supernova outbursts of
dulled out color.
A new age attraction of
bones and bruises followed
in a broken down
dysfunction of order.
A new, "Hello, beautiful,"
quickly served out to those
unstable in a fine delicacy.
-s.r.b.

I’m sorry if I cry when I smell whiskey on your breath.
It’s a natural habit, you see.

All the times she kissed my forehead,
Her lips engraving the need for sobriety in my brain,
I smelled it.

In all the bruised knees and torn curtains,
The cigarette smoke and shattered glasses,
The broken doors and scratched paint,
Her dried blood and my adolescent tears,
I smelled it.

I turned my lights out so she wouldn’t know I was awake.
I’m sorry if I cry when I smell whiskey on your breath.
It’s a natural habit, you see.

My grandma is smiling.
My uncle is recounting a story.
My sister is telling a dumb joke.

We laugh.

My aunt is bragging about her children from a previous marriage.
My uncle is making fun of his mentally ill brother.
My mother is sticking up for him.

We eat.

My aunt is asking about my future.
My cousin is talking about herself.
My uncle is complaining about his job.

We pretend to care.

My cousin is trying to hide his drunkenness.
My aunt is talking about Jesus.
My uncle is warning us of the government's plans.

We change the subject.

My sister is attempting to join the conversation.
My aunt is ignoring her.
My mother is getting angry.

We stop pretending.

My uncle is calling my mother a *****.
My aunt is reprimanding my uncle for swearing.
My mother is throwing her plate.

I watch.

My sister is crying.
My cousin is laughing.
My mother is leaving.

I help clean up.

My grandma is smiling.