When all our friends faded away,
We stuck together.
I didn’t think it was okay,
The way they treated you.
Yet, here we are,
Feeling like deja vu,
Wondering why,
I stayed.

I try to be kind,
I try to be nice,
But judging by how you act,
I must be blind.
You make jokes,
And I laugh,
But we both know,
The facts.

I know my place,
So I’ll let you have your way.

I’ll be your punching bag,
What did I do to make you so mad?
I thought friends were supposed to have,
Each other's backs.
Is it bad,
That I like being your punching bag?

When you're desperate,
You take what you can get.
So when I have your attention,
I don’t complain.
Though you may berate me,
I’ll hold my head up high.
Because I’d rather have you,
Then be on my lonesome.

I understand my post,
We both know how this goes.

I’ll be your punching bag,
What did I do to make you so mad?
I thought friends were supposed to have,
Each other's backs.
Is it bad,
That I like being your punching bag?

Is this how friendship works?
You throw your friends to the dirt?

A girl can be a mean ***, with a mean ***,
But I don't mean ***, I mean, as in being
Mean, even when you're already an ***.

And also I could be mean too much,
Or maybe I could mean too much —
But it wouldn't mean that much,
To be mean, that much.

And I could be mean as such,
Really for any means as such —
In order for a means that has a such.

Even as this, seems to be a mean verse,
The question is, which one of course?

I kept waiting for someone to say my name
like it mattered —
like it meant something more
than the smoke curling from their mouth
or the pause before their next thought.

I kept practicing how I’d answer,
as if the right inflection
could make me worth remembering.
I kept hanging around
like a seat at a table no one was saving —
elbows off the surface, back straight,
trying not to look desperate —
taking notes in the margins of other people’s lives,
highlighting the parts I thought I belonged to.

I filled my pockets with reasons to stay
and still got left behind.
I burned through summers,
cut my teeth on promises made in passing cars.
I stood on porches barefoot, whispering,
Say it back. Please say it back.
But they never did.

I should’ve known better —
should’ve stopped twisting my ribs into ribbon,
threading my spine through the eye of a needle.
I kept breaking myself down into fractions —
a fifth of my pride, a sixth of my spine —
like if I whittled myself thin enough,
I could slip through your keyhole
and rise up like incense burning in your room.

But you were always somewhere else —
feet planted in some other city,
hands too full to catch what I kept throwing.
I was all green lights and loose laces,
always running to meet you halfway —
never noticing you weren’t moving.

I feasted on Adderall
and kept my phone on loud.
I swallowed nights whole
and called it hunger.
Or else I slept for days —
stumbled downstairs with breath like battery acid,
ate three bowls of raisin bran and no water.
My bones went soft as rotting fruit.
My dreams felt like something I could stream —
pause, rewind, resume —
binge-watching my pleading in real time,
begging the screen to glitch out a better ending.

I chewed the quiet until my teeth ached —
gnawed on the hours like stale bread.
Nights stretched thin,
a damp washcloth wrung out too many times.
I stayed up rewriting the last thing you said,
like if I shifted the punctuation
I could make it kinder.
Turned your ellipses into commas,
your cold period into a question mark.
I swore if I curved the words just right,
they’d fold into something softer —
something I could survive.

I spent that week pulling myself apart —
scrubbing my skin until it blushed raw,
stripping it like wallpaper,
scrapping your name out of my throat
like a fish hook.
I kept your words in a jar under my bed —
tight-lidded and hissing like a hornet’s nest.

I kissed the air where you should’ve been
and tasted copper and sweat.
Pressed my tongue to the place it stung
and thought,
This is what love leaves you with —
a mouth full of blood
and a story no one believes.

I kept the lights low for weeks after.
And one morning, I woke up,
swallowed the silence like a dare.
I cut my name out of the air with my teeth.
I let the hurt stick under my nails —
dark and jagged —
and I kept writing anyway.

I spit the silence out like a pit —
sharp, bitter, black.
It hit the floor and rolled,
and for the first time,
I didn’t follow it.

I let it rot where it landed.
Let the flies have their fill.
Let the maggots move in.
Let the earth swallow it whole.
Let it die twice.
Let the ground forget it ever lived.

If the world ends today

Friday, January 3, 2025
2:10 PM

There is nothing
to worry about any way.
Next is set, and never misses its chance
to ever happen meaningfully
in living terms.

--------

The Grab, a documentary, very scary.

Reinforming model we form, me and you

we have this world, this life, in common,
we have no army, we have no means
no wisdom, knowledge and understanding,

to say,
hey, wait a minute, bosses of the world's

corpora, all the legal weforms, with I rights.

All legare ligamental tied node to node,

on old rules of war and conquest, ordained

say the bodies of various religious right enforcers

children reared to believe the magic, miraculous

revelation granted mystic saints visited by spirits

manifested in imaginable form, as when a child
reports a dream, in which angels look just like

the ones on the Christmas cards, and
the one on the Mormon Temple, with the last Trump

about to blow the bubble believed too sacred to pop

stop, civility, and Thumper's Daddy's Rule, calls stop,

if ya cain't say sumpin good, don't say nuthin'tall.

But, but, but, in fact, by the way, that
is not the Christian God's least favorite word,
but, I mean,
but isn't YHWH's least favorite word…

No way, I think, said as a single exclamation, way

I let be thought true, through a patient bet you made

at the title, no, is yeh, ja's favorite word. Yes,
really you feel it when you say it, right?

Yes. Slight mind smile.

If the world ends today…

what if, right? What now, do we finish
or wait, right, we all know, the world could end today,

it is not unthinkable with a little fact checking

Annie Jacobsen's Nuclear War: a scenario

whenever you realize you never really envisioned

the result of righteous reprisal America holy
exceptionalist mindform, granted the football,

at the two minute warning,
an hour and ten minutes after some witty hacker
decided to prove,

everything is 5G accessible, in the future,

If the world ends today, all the faithful trusting

prayers, may or may not be surprised

to read this on HelloPoetry, deep
in the Amazon Web Services Cloud,

assisting informing mindforms messaging

information affirmation,
state the vision,
express plainly next, from your personal
Habakkuk habit, y'know, plain make it

POV, JWST, extensions free add on,
micron and below crisp focus, via lash mite lens
over lay meditative practice,

learned during mind wandering following floaters,
wondering if those are squashed bubbles,

disc galaxies as may be conjectured using

breath and conscious true rest, con carne
means together with flesh, meat vessle,

mind form, we find ourselves, corpora in.

We may agree to think time prevents a line,
originally intended to make a mind form think

linking haps from per and may back to when

we made up our mind to participate,
in the final accounting last judgement version

of the book of life,
in virtual Read Only Memory,

for a very long time, mental rewards,
constituting the umph in triumphant minds,

inspired, filled to superfluity
with child faith truth,

… real life, did you ever witness
a second grader learning Santa is a lie?

Lo' the reason for the lie, what is that,
why… in the first place enculturate so

he-in-ous, seri ous, just in, ever extends…

--------------------
This was chapter three 2025, my POV
shared to be rethought by better thinkers

in association with retired Alta Vista Spider
Taming Retirees, living on ever after terms.

May there be a secret portal ,
old heartbeat of the earth ,
Dreamt Cupid stolen in his
sleep ,
by Darkness unobserved .
☆
Coincidentia
oppositorum ,
Storm Angel and Wild Beast ,
Union of the Devouring Snake
and Lovers of the Chemical Feast .
☆
When time has come full circle
and the tempest calls to
fly ,
we will meet in golden sunset ,
where our hearts are three ,
six , nine .

I am annoying and
You are indifferent
I pray to the stars and
You don’t believe in them
I’m full of love and  
You are just full
You never stop pushing though
I still pull
I’m a lot smarter than
You give me credit
And I hope for things knowing that
I’ll never get it
But you’re building money and
I’m building a home
And the way that you’re going
You’re dying alone

Look out,
across time, go
windborn in our mind being,

look out,
into the depths of ever being,

rethink the processes time used,
reimagine the silence at the moment.

All for us to have our own being in,
confined in common sense of the we
the one we of us since ever was a time,

before now, and later, still,
this same concurrency of events…

our crossing point in time.

Instants of peaceable knowing, growing
into states of conscious knowing use.

I have an extra dry sense of humor
up here in the most sarcastic city in the country

Down south, they just can't figure it out
They think I'm dumb or
should be institutionalized for the things I say that
they just take to heart with 6 grade reading levels at best
There's no forethought, let alone critical analysis afterwards
Down there
you say what you mean or paint on fake niceties
You leave all the **** talking for when this or that person
leaves the room

There's no cold distance
Strangers will ask where you go to church
No respect that folks may have better things to do
A panopticon of middle school gossip and small talk
so you're never alone

I wish my brother never left
He came back and won't talk to me
after I gave his complaining back to him
in too clever remarks
In Carolina, you're lucky if they get it
on the drive back home

when you figured out i could drive
you took advantage of me real fast—
“i love you’s” and all that fake allegiance.
well, guess what—i will burn the town we found leave it in wreckage
i will be more than who i am around you;
spirit sucker
undercover.
i hate how you talk to people
all crass and aggressive.
selfish little clinger
i’ll leave these daggers in my flesh
that you placed there for me
after you got mad i didn’t give you everything.