You were right when you said
I don't know what it's like to be you
But take a look in my head
You have no idea what it's like to be me.

~

in sympathy, in honor, in horror
with those whose heads are shaved
against their free will

and to uncover
my nakedness before you,
as prisoner, as victim, as poet,
nothing must come between us
even this:

and yet,
the prickly stubble head resprouts
soon enough,
spring floral efforts
an annual reminder,
that even undisguised and exposed,
my bald palate plate,
is just another nether hiding place

~

He had lied, deceived, and cheated,
used mind games to make her stay;
She'd slowly died, deep down inside,
yet she could not get away.
~
He played the "Blame Game" often,
yet he never took the fall;
He claimed she was the problem,
everything was all her fault.
~
So she tried her best each morning,
to hide the tears that she shed;
They were room mates in their home,
and strangers in their own bed.
~
He no longer loved this woman,
and she did not love him back;
She saw no sense in staying,
so she slowly began to pack.
~
No trust or communication,
excisted anymore;
She wondered if she left him,
would he hear her shut the door?
~
Yet she was much too weak,
to go out on her own;
She lacked the strength, that it would take,
to leave her unhappy home.

I am asleep on the couch

Everything around me could collapse and I wouldn’t have a clue

It’s all roses and sunshine inside my weary head

Dreams are not honest and I don’t wish them to be

I am ready to wake up