I don't mean to harbor such hate
it's not like me to do so
I so strongly believe in giving repreive
for all I do and don't know

I'm sorry to be so jaded
it's just tough to live under this roof
my space is always invaded
I feel always under scrutiny
on the edge of mutiny
or at least just moving out
(quietly, of course)
or so intended though contended
by your natural ways
to make a show of something soft
my reasoning has made
the need to know of why I'm off
you'll never get the answer that you wish for
as I whisper
something not the truth

I woke up on the couch again.
I've been sleeping there each night that he's out of town without cell signal.
Not that he even lives with me.
But sleeping in my own bed still feels lonely if there aren't texts from him to look forward to.
No matter how many new friends I make, I can't fill the empty spot.
And it's okay.
"Distance" makes the heart grow "fonder", but all I can hope is that it'll make the heart grow.
So much on our minds.
Choices to make and places to go and work to be done.
And the desire to just drop it all for a week and be together is always there.
Patience, I say, there will be a week for that.
So I will wait.
As much as it hurts for the present, it's worth it.

I got up off the couch once I'd written him a good morning text.
I was playing some of my old music and getting lost in the atmospheric melodies, and just pouring water into the coffee machine instead of waiting for the Brita pitcher to filter it, and then use that, was my method for breaking through the anxiety barrier today.
From there, coffee was followed by a desire for food (because coffee alone is just asking for a stomachache) so I thought of my pancake mix.
Here goes. I'm not measuring this out, my measuring cups are all in the ***** dishes pile. I've washed a bunch of glasses and this one will fit enough pancake batter for two or three small flapjacks.
Here I go.

my head's a hollow jar
made of fragile glass
careful not to break
into a hundred shards

my eyes are made of cork
but very poorly so
as everything leaks out
puddles on the floor

Season have gone, the candle has not been burned through
cause I thought I wanted to save the fragrance
so I never let it melt out the realizing
but the winds are bringing in the bays, of hounds baying
candlelight pairs with this heavenly music

gaunt eyes, inward always, free that far
with a bible in his hands, calling it a journal

it's four in the morning
go back to bed
dreams soaring but
don't spend so much time inside your head
it's time for work instead
Easter Sunday

homework on the dining table
laptop and a pen
don't tell me I don't fit my label
wasn't kidding when I said
this is not pretend
Easter Sunday

six years without wheels can lead
to isolation caged frustration stuck inside a cell
inside the bottom of a well
understand me
I wish I had a bike
but really I just wanna love my family
wish that they were people that I liked
they love me and deserve it back
but I just can't requite like that
in tears upon linoleum
I'm loveless in the bathroom
Easter Sunday

A slow rabble was the army tent
In the sense events commenced.
Lines lingered laughingly long

Senescent men intent in resentment
Furiously fighting fear.
Young men too, letting bravery ferment

Fools to the firmament.
Fate's Impertinent
Bent by torments underwent.

Who begged to be sent off to war?
Not me for sure; not anymore.
I won't ask why I was whisked away,
That I thought through though.
Wistfully waiting, I Inclined
To outline this old tale of mine
In the event I'm left behind.

So to whom it may concern,
Know you how my spirit burned!
Watch as I, while mortal
Fought foul fate, so much unearned
And how, with luck, I'll yet return.

Eastward we marched toward the Black-Water Tower.
Every stout hero aloft by their willpower
We knew the bloodshed the pathing would bring
March'd we with willful and unyielding hardening;
March did we eastward,
To Black-Water tower.

Damnable scourge is the Black-Water Tower.
Watching our coming with malice and glowering
Knowing what death it brings
Naught did we cower!
March did we onward,
To Black-Water tower.

First came the rattling,
Then came the thundering
Lumbering hoof-beats grew louder and louder.
Then did the marsh turn alive with a showering,
Splinters of arrows all poisoned and sour.

Bellowed and charged did we
Onward to victory.
Many did fall but were all men of valor.
     Righteous, and honored.Yes, all men of valor.

Death did not leave them fair,
Nor took them anywhere.
Save for the heavens, and memories of ours.
After we burned them, some somber few hours,
March did we eastward,
From Black-Water tower.

a new symphony
invited to a group
honored flattered
small dreams really
my short hair mistook
by thee an image shattered
sorry but new me
I think myself it suits
(so don't mind if I do)
not yet exact, sure
but we'll get there

March do we, along the ash and cyprus
While contemplating natures of the moor.
So very full of life, and also death.

Briefly glancing round, the bog seems lifeless,
To walk so alert, danger life obscures
March do we, along the ash and cyprus

But after observation, I confess
Quite lively lies our grand mud-soaked detour.
So very full of life, and also death.

Every creature here exudes unkindness,
And any of them might our death ensure.
March do we, along the ash and cyprus

Yet still, I find their number in excess
Than places having more growth, and verdure.
So very full of life, and also death.

So now my new perspective does egress
Much different than it ever did before.
March do we, along the ash and cyprus
So very full of life, and also death.