As I grovel at your feet
And follow your every move
With gashed and bleeding knees
Begging for something that should come naturally
For me it does,
The ****
The longing
The desire
The urge
And the yearning
All the things you have no idea about.
All the things you ignore
And push to the side
Just like my wants and needs
My feelings
And my longing for you
All in a pile labeled
“who gives a **** for whatever happens to this”

I wonder why I’m the sorry one
Feeling horrible for wanting

Like a cherry branch in the wind, you
dancing to the iridescent tune
of whichever direction it moves

Why fear death?
It's natural,
It's biological,
It comes to us all,
wether you want it or not,
sooner or later,
nobody stays to tell the story,
when they go,
they say nothing and never come back
we try to reach out and nobody answers or calls,
guess we have to look for it in the yellow pages.

You make me feel like the man I've always aspired to be,
And the little, scared kid I used to always be.

At first, I wasn't sure,
Too much running through my head.

But once we were there on your couch,
Sharing warmth and asylum.

My heart raced like it hadn't in years,
My mind going a thousand miles an hour.

Once you fit your hands in mine,
And curled up beside me.

It felt safe and natural,
Like we had been here before.

Your genuine smile and cute laugh,
At every terrible joke I made.

Your smell remained on my left shoulder sleeve,
And your phantom fingers softly brushing.

It all felt natural.

It all felt right.

At least for tonight.

~S.C.Kelley

I’m beautiful
Or so you tell me
My hair is in a bun
That adequately
Reflects how I
Have not showered since yesterday
My face is bare
With all my impurities
All of my blemishes
My eyebrows are overgrown and bushy
My skin leaks of oil like sloppy pizza
Nature lazy like my bun
The teeny tiny hairs
Behind my ears are loose
My glasses that were once perched perfectly on the bridge of my nose
Are now smudged and lopsided
I really don’t believe you
I think my thighs
Look like hacky sacks that are running low on beading  
My lips look like paper
When folded hamburger style
My eyes are miniscule on my ginormous face being ****** in by the mass of my cheeks
I’m wearing an EPCC shirt from 1960s
Grey shorts
Pink socks
No makeup
but you say I’m beautiful
I don’t believe you
Until you slip your hands in my pockets
And tell me,
“You have pockets”
With the same smile on your face

Thursday, October 11, 2018
6:01 AM

I wanna think god's thoughts, and Mr. Newton, Issac said,
After him. So I joined the queue.

Fundamental heretic is what I am.
Jesus was a heretic. Ask any Pharisee.

Evaluation and appraisal, worship and praise,
who told you to do that? A shepherd kid?

A lonely boy under the stars in a peaceful valley,
beside still waters. Like, Bob Dylan at twelve. Singin' along.

Worthy, so worthy, sang the boy, never knowing the role of
y after worth in setting the appraising price or prize.

What's it worth to know death has no sting? A song?
Then sing, soft, don't wake the dead.

Pixie dust behind your eyes
Watercolours when you cry
Your lashes scatter all the light
And droop like blossoms through the night

Pay a plant to sweeten air
Stress may choke but lungs don't care
Your mossy throat can water earth
And soil is all that your money's worth
Of course

Breathe
Kiss the steam before the cup
Thieve
Fill the corners of you up

And when you're caught,
Don't lose your head
If brick loves bleeding
Trust paper instead
If you can

Feel
Choose the storm before the rain
Steal
Cram your soul to full again

And when you're here,
I lose my mind
If we're wide awake
Then love can't be blind

Comet rust around your nails
Tipping smoothly off the rails
Your laces trip on bits of cloud
When idle floating's not allowed

****** a cat to thank the streets
For the wonders that you meet
And drowning sleep is not what sells
But I owe life to those dimple wells
Of yours

Breathe
Learn the dance before the beat
Leave
And I'll always save your seat

So when you're back,
Don't be dismayed
Your cells have a purpose
And your dad would have stayed
If he could
(Sorry)

Feel
Choose the first flavour you like
Steal
Even if it's not so right

And when you're here,
The stars confess
They're loving the distance
To earth so much less
For your eyes.

The twisted, weathered maple in my front yard doesn't care what the passersby may say
about his missing branches and hanging limbs

He drinks sweetly the nutrients he needs
He breaths unweighted without thought
He absorbs the warm rays that fall around him
He grows in all directions, without restriction, hugging the wires as if to welcome them into his space
He sleeps when it is dark and wakes up when the dew starts to glisten

That strong, grounded maple in my front yard
I didn't know
I had so much to learn

Our natural ways of thinking
Might be why were sinking
Challenge your mind body and soul
There is an end goal

Reach this place and see its beauty in a mirage
To stumble across its not that hard
The gentle greetings from the others
From another place but still our brothers