i can't see past sanity

    ...tick tock

    the door
    lights out
    creaking floorboards
    of dreams striped and contorted
    you, whirling away
    the night
    calling the cuckold clock

    ...tick tock

    the forest of eyes
    that winter in me
    the tracks in the snow
    bitten off by white waters

    ...tick tock

    i can't see past ignorance

    ...tick tock

    the open blindness to chances
    unrelenting sparks
    of hope faded in memory

    ...tick tock

    in distance
    torn away
    claws scratching canvas
    screeching blackboards
    hands over my ears
    to make it through
    to make it

    ...tick tock

    stop.

My value is up in the air again.
“Be confident,” they say.
“Do your best!”
But what is my best?
When all my contributions are turned back,
when my best is thrown away,
I need to reassess.

Perhaps the value I've given
is not valuable.

When I am trapped in a single
uncomplimentary description,
when they smile
and turn away,
am I now worthless?

I may decide I am worth
a kings ransom
and my thoughts and actions
his right hand
but I cannot be confident in
the assessment
unless there is one
willing to buy.

I want her to be by my side.
She wants him to be by her side.

You became a better man from the fruit of my suffering.

It added some color to your cheeks though you still had pieces of me in your teeth..

I stuck with you through hues of red and blue, and for a time I was bright and yellow...you almost wrote back in a similar color.

I’ve been with you through thick and thin, smooth and rough, loud and quiet, and we held on despite the odds we held on.

You bask in the light now, all petals anew.

What did I gain from it but except a few new scars?

Everyone now admires you.

While my color fades and shrivels, you glow in delight.

It’s my fault I’m all alone
I should have known I wasn’t the one  because you can’t stand to look at me.

I carried you high and lifted you up and I let myself drown in the process.

Coughing and gasping with an outstretched limb

I remind you of your shadow; your darkest chapters.

You’re on land and you’ve left me to rot like just another memory.

I should have realized I was just your plot device.

I love me, I love me not.

His hands around my neck,
And a weight
of the past
Slamming against my back
to the rhythm of my cries
I am stuck on repeat between
I feel nothing and I feel everything
But never enough.

I’d rather feel the ache between my legs of where he was
instead the ache in my chest of where I was.

So here I am yet again, a lone passenger on a burning ship,
With my back
to the fire that I have set myself,
only realizing my danger by the look
on everyone's faces back on shore
screaming at me to abandon ship.

Leave me, but don’t please
I fear I’m not my own, you see
I’m  stuck and built of bone, you see
Perhaps I am not meant to be

My sadness is the world at large
I feel the things I hear, you see
I don’t know what is meant for me
I’m bent, you see, I’m bent

What do I do- its near, you see
My thoughts are barely here, you see
I am not what my best can be, and please-Don’t judge my fragility

I know the actions I must take,
But listen, it's my life at stake
Much harder is to give, than take
-my fear, I cannot Fake

When Susan’s work was done, she would sit
With one fat guttering candle lit,
And window opened wide to win
The sweet night air to enter in.
There, with a thumb to keep her place
She would read with stern and wrinkled face,
Her mild eyes gliding very slow
Across the letters to and fro,
While wagged the guttering candle flame
In the wind that through the window came
And sometimes in the sentence she
Would mumble a sentence audibly
Or shake her head as if to say,
“ You silly souls, to act this way!”
And never a sound from night I would hear,
Unless some far-off **** crowed clear;
Or her old shuffling should turn
Another page’and rapt and stern,
Though her great glasses bent on me,
She would glance into reality
And shake her round old silvery head,
With-“You!—I thought you were in bed!”
Only to tilt her book again
And rooted in Romance to remain

ባልቴቷ ሱሳን

ሱሳን ሥራዋን ሰራርታ
ትቀመጣለች ወፈር ያለ
ሻማ አብርታ፣
መስኮቷን አርጋ
በሰፊው ከፈት
ባለግሩም መአዛውን
የማታ አየር
በደንብ ለመሸመት!
ገፁ እንዳይጠፋባት
አልባ በአውራ ጣት፣
ሻማዋን ንፋሱ እያንገላታት
ተመስጦ በሚስተዋልበት
ቅጭም ያለ ፊት
እየተደመመች ታነባለች
ዓይኗን ከዚህ ወደዚያ
ወደዚህ ከዚያ
በፊዴሎቹ ላይ
እያደረገች ሸርተት፡፡
በዛ ኮሽታ አልባ ፀጥታ
ይሰማል በለሆሳስ ስትናገር
የሆነ ነገር
ወይ ጭንቅላቷን ነቅንቃ ስታበቃ
ስትል ‹‹ምን አይነት ናችሁ
እንዴት ንደዚህ ታደርጋላቸሁ?››
ከሩቅ አውራ ዶሮ ኩኩሉ
ረጭ ብሏል ሥፍራው ሁሉ--
አይሰማም ምንም ድምፅ
ካልሆነ መፅሐፍ ሲገለፅ፡፡
በትልቁ መነፅሯ ልታይ ዙራ፣
ሥፍራውን ማትራ፣
ሽበት ቀመስ ጭንቅላቷን
እየነቀነቀች ወደኔ ያየች
‹‹አንተ ገና አልተኛህም?››
ትለኛለች
ዳግም ወደመፅሓፏ ተመልሳ፣
በተመስጦ የፍቅር ታሪከ ውስጥ
ራሷን ልትረሳ!
(በዋልተር ዲላሜር)//

Loving me will not be easy.
There will be days too long
To handle my wavering heart
And nights too short
To hold my rarely steady hands.
I won't believe your compliments
And ask to stay in bed
Because the world I live in
Is too dark for
The light of your universe
To get in.

Loving me will be a battle.
There will be wars I wage
And battles I lose,
Ghosts you can never
Chase away
But, will feel every time
You touch my leg,
Arm,
Or lower back.
You'll have to wake up
When I do at 3 in the morning
After they've filled me to the tip
With memories and nights
I don't tell you about.

Loving me will not be easy.
There will always be lead feet
In my shoes
That won't understand why
Yours won't help them
Pick up the pace,
Steel feet that won't understand
Why yours keep getting so far away,
Concrete feet that won't understand
Where they went wrong
If they were never moving
In the first place.

Loving me will be exhausting.
I will watch your eyes
Pack up our laughs
In dark blue bags,
Watch your arms
Throw them over your shoulders,
And watch them sink
Under the burden of demons
You aren't sure are real.
I will watch you carry
Those bags out the door
And dump them down
By our curb.
I'll watch you yawn
As you watch me finally
Wake up for the fight.
Too little, too late
I know;
I know loving me will not be easy
But I know
Loving you trying to love me
Will be.

If you've lost someone,
Check out the Personals.
Keep your eyes to the ground;
Only tourists look around,
There we'll find the jetsom
Of someone's empty pocket.
A book of Vegas matches
With the middle ones missing;
Neither left or right-handed.
You'll not be found.
There are tissues,
Stained with mascara,
Lying
Beside beads from a broken necklace
That gilded your skin.
You'll not be found.
Blowing across the path
Are shreds of paper
From the note she wrote,
Swirling towards the river.
Chase them to the bank,
Watch them float
Towards the falls.
The meaning is smeared, blurred
Then lost.
This is what finds me out.