You'll never know who
closed the door-
when you were
never awake to begin
with. Laying alone, cold...
you find comfort in the heat
of Others, but
in the heat of
others you find tension
teeth clenching, tight
being exaggerated and
intensified to the
point
where you'd concentrate
so hard into concentration
you'd die to be falling safely
from the reel of images leading
into static Sanctuary

hello, i am a
writer, i am happy.
look at me smile.
look at me,
look at me—

no it’s not, you
dumb **** shut up,
you’re worthless,
you’re worthless,
you think you can be happy—

i am sad sometimes.
all the time—
half the time—
my lifetime—
where is the lie?

i am.
i am.
okay, i’ll be fine,
it’s fine,
okay, okay?
okay. yes, yes,
yesyesyes

look at me, i am
worthless stupid
******* amazing
shut up and look,
look at me don’t,

i don’t care i
don’t care i don’t
love you yes i do
i don’t care of course
it’s all i think about

stop stop stop,
don’t look at me,
i am too great,
too great, look,
look, i am on top,
the world is mine—

only in my head
only in my head
only in my head
shut up, shut up,
be quiet, i am tired!

leave me alone.
i don’t want to be alone.
help me be alone,
go away,
please.

please.
please.
please.

[…I don’t know what you mean.]

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing.”

*where is the lie?

I choke back tears that I know are irrational.
You scared me.
Knowing, imagining what I would feel to no longer know you existed somewhere was a terrifying thought experiment.

Poetry: A lot like wine.
Can’t drink too much,
Nor all the time,
Each wine unique -
A different taste
Sip.      It.      Slowly ……
Don’t drink in haste
Try one with a fruity flavor,  
Or maybe it’s a dry you savor,
Sample all the current trends,
Don’t be afraid to share with friends.
So all us wannabe sommeliers
Can compare it to the Bordelaise!
Don’t be content - Experiment.
Try something new!
Tasting should be fun to do!
And like the rarest of all wines
Good poetry endures through time.
Phil Lindsey  5/16/15

(The symbol * = see word list)

Hi* Reader!
A monna, a fem* both build their family here,
In lands where waqua* flows
And noush* is grown.
They shelter, cosy, nestled in their housdom,
Or dommus
If yu prefer,
With kids arunning wild,
Alongside dogologs* and pusses.
It cost a lot of brass to buy
That house
But yes
It really was so worth it.

On weekends dad gets out the vroom
And takes them for a run.
The youngsters chaktac in the bak
Luving it: driving thru
The sunny vales.
Back home,
They all sleep well
Each nite.

From families like this
Are nations built.
Generation,
After generation.
A growing culture
On the bedrock
Of Humanity.

Paul Butters

Word List:      Hi = hello, monna (formerly mon) = man, fem = woman, waqua = water, noush = food, housdom or dommus (formerly domhouse) = house, yu = you, dogologs = dogs, pusses = cats, brass = money, vroom = car, chaktac = chatter, bak = back, luving = loving, thru = through, nite = night. (These words I term “Buttish”, after my surname, though I acknowledge some are “borrowed” from others).
* domhouse amended to dommus; mon to monna (2nd draft).

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You keep looking for yourself,
because you want so badly to see the 'real' you
so you look at quotes,
you experiment with lifestyles,
you question what you could be,
you look in a mirror but feel lied to,
then you hit a certain age and feel struck,
it's all between laughable and sad,
you notice the person behind every line of lipstain,
every cloak of cashmere,
and every bud on a cig,
you had this little speck of originality that no one understands.
Through all the time you spent trying to find yourself,
you were you,
it was just so hard to comprehend.