#awkwardness
at twilight, I shed my skin of quiet
leaving behind the crinkled human layers
like the ole higue
i rise as a ball of blazing dread
hovering over the party
a fiery intruder unable to belong.
i drift through the small talk
seeking a neck, a pulse, a way in
but my gaze is too desperate
my tongue is too dry
i want to consume the sweetness of laughter
to drain the warmth of easy conversation
but instead, i just burn
a spectacle of sparks in the dark
a sudden, terrifying flare
that sends everyone running
in the morning, i return to my true shape
the withered, wrinkled wallflower
stumbling over my own syllables
with no magic left to disguise
how terribly hard it is to breathe
amongst the living
May 19
May 19, 2026 at 8:57 PM UTC
Foolishness is something
I came to know
only after what I did.
Do I regret it, you ask?
I can barely look into your eyes.
I remember the words,
the noise we made,
how laughter came so easily
whenever I was near you.
The loving awkwardness
resting in that space,
and how we remained there
without moving away.
No one spoke,
and it seems
no one ever will.
Still, I loved it there -
how your eyes mirrored mine,
how even our humor
could intertwine.
But you were never mine.
Perhaps I made a mistake.
You bared your heart openly,
more than I wanted to admit,
while I kept mine hidden.
Do I regret it, you ask?
I can only remain
inside the memory
I never erased.
May 9
May 9, 2026 at 7:44 AM UTC
After ***
you thanked me
like I had helped move furniture
which somehow
felt lonelier
than silence
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 10:01 AM UTC
it feels all to awkward
listening in to the chimes
of others as i sit silently
wondering why i even bother
socializing when there is no point
of me including myself within
their laughs and jokes
Jan 16, 2025
Jan 16, 2025 at 12:25 PM UTC
I have a difficult time saying, Awkward.
And it's not easy to spell.
It isn't forward, or backward,
Just awkward.
Oh! That was awkward, the duped say.
He's awkward, but will grow into those feet, quipped the coach.
When I met you again,
Awkward hardly was enough to define the moment.
And, months later, it's still awkward being near you.
I need to touch your hand, purposefully,
To get over this awkwardness, because
I don't see it in your eyes,
Or hear it in your voice.
We don't have time for awkwardness;
A word so onomatopoeic,
It's awkward saying it.
Aug 4, 2022
Aug 4, 2022 at 12:14 PM UTC
We are both shyly engaging with the madness on screen,
distorted faces, screams from nowhere –
I don‘t believe in hesitation,
having always indulged in my impulsivity.
Not used to waiting, calculating, anticipating.
I was very careful not to let you sink in,
although your teeth aren‘t very sharp.
I don’t pay attention, I’m too focused now
on how my arm is pressing against your shoulder –
this golden halo
that your touch casts onto the here-and-now;
no moment can ever be insignificant again.
Oh, it feels so nice to be with you,
real nice.
Makes me wanna travel all the distance
from Tokyo right to your doorstep.
Morning arrives with it’s awkward limbs that will be drowned in black coffee. Yesterday there seemed to be no more blue tomorrows, but now your eyes greet me and I don’t know what to say.
Jun 9, 2019
Jun 9, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC
The boy stood in front of his class
The short story unit was ***
The teacher had them do presentations
For they all had to do representations
The boy stood in front of random humans
The class looked like Roman ruins
Most people were gone
Thank Satan for that one
The boy’s hands were getting sweaty
No he did not have spaghetti
He was already forgetting his lines
It was like in front of his eyes, there were blinds.
The boy was a stuttering mess
At least compared to last time it was less
He sat down with his face bright red
He felt like he could drop dead
But then the class started clapping
The rest of the presentations were wrapping
The teacher handed back their rubric
The kid felt kind of sick
The teacher, with a smile, gave mine to me
I had gotten a B..
(True story)
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
Aren’t you cold?
I.
Me?
the wind swept up the solemn yellow leaves, along with my
solemn yellow feet,
and dusted off the crumbs of yester-was
and yester-would
from the hem of my puffer...
Well,
listen.
I hold your heart in my hand,
it holds itself in my palm,
my palm holds itself onto your heart…
Hold your eyes a bit longer and soon, you too,
can hold mine…
So, no.
(Silence. I shivered from the core, to no avail)
II.
Me?
Meanwhile, Amber October and Brown November lie like crumpled,
dryad carcasses beside my feet.
Hm, I said,
I lament!
the skin on my fingers have frittered away from
countless, dead hours
in colorless computers,
but alas, not from the cold.
(trite)
Hmm, I said,
the skin on my fingers
hangs like a nail.
Never have I thought an unwise flick of a wrist could render me an onion.
(Dear Lord)
A curt laugh, cheap,
cheap-cheap, like the swallows.
but yes,
I am
alright.
(Silence. We both shivered from the core, to no avail)
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 2:13 AM UTC
I want to call out your name
But every time I try, my voice fails me
Like wipers on the windshield,
Your presence erases each drop of thought
And here I am left speechless
Unable to open my mouth - jaws locked
Frozen, petrified, like ice -
I melt into a mess of awkwardness
There, I find my wit doubtful
For I, who chase after the deep secrets
Of this dark, mysterious world
From the miniscule to the galaxies
Who run after all the laws
Of gravity, energy, entropy
Deal with forces, momentum
Concepts that have always eluded man
Could not find a single word
Unbelievably, nor make a sound
When you, oh you, are around
You steal my mind away; it frustrates me
Because I know we'd relate
Talking about God and humanity
Favorite poems and stories
Making fun of Shakespeare's puns, laugh loudly
Sing of life and also love
Share our apprehensions and all our doubts
Shout away our hopes and dreams
Imagine, in ten years' time, where we'll be
Oh, we could have so much fun
Talking 'bout anything under the sun
But every time you walk in
Through the door, all my words just fly away
And I am left with the deafening sound of silence
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 3:21 AM UTC
Blue eyes distract the sunshine of your smile
Drawn in with the teasing “shut up” look given
Dark blonde hair cut just beyond the shoulder
Almost childlike
Takes you back to a childhood crush
It feels the same
Moths dance around the glow in your stomach
Sweltering heat slices through the body
Paralyzed in the moment
Wanting to run while never wanting to leave that presence
Eyes still pierce you forcing a gleeful smile
Natural, pure the laugh that emerges from the stomach
Forces one across the chasm
As the giggling ensues the gap closes
Until the two collide
The feeling is full
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 6:36 PM UTC
Is it just me
or are these walls getting closer
with every step I take forward?
Is it just me
or is this music going mute?
All the sounds disappearing
and becoming nothing but distant echos
My words slip
and as I try to run
so do my feet
I look up
only to see
that it's just you
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 9:03 PM UTC
Why is it that what i hate
About what i am
Is what endears me to others
Am i the opposite
Of what i was intended to be?
If so this practical joke
Has crossed the line from funny to cruelty.
I hate not knowing what to say
I hate my shy dispensation
But others love my pathetic attempts
As a presentable representation
Of a functioning human being
I'm not and that's no lie.
So where does anyone see any appeal?
Am i blind or do my very eyes lie?
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
to call us lovebirds, dating, etc.
to our faces, like just another mask we wear
ain't quite right, like the lack of function in broken hearts;
we're in love (if what i think about is mutual)
but we'd never take the extra step
unlike our own shy and socially awkward flaws.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
I’m told to let loose,
To let what loose?
“On the dance floor… on the dance floor,
let loose on the dance floor, Owen”
But… But…
To let loose is to lose;
to lose control.
Going “where the music leads”
is a new, scary place.
Everything must fit, must make sense;
Moving, swaying, ‘dancing,’ don’t.
What is there to gain
besides a common sense of…
awk
wardness?
“You’ll dance your way closer
to each other” (somehow).
But why grow closer in body?
Why not grow closer in mind?
Let us talk, dig beyond the surface.
“May I have this conversation?”
I’ll share my thoughts, my self,
and you’ll share yours.
So it will go, finding its own rhythm:
sometimes slow, methodical;
sometimes quick, passionate;
always common, enthralling.
Only then, with our intellects engaged,
engaged with each other’s,
can we truly dance:
the beautiful dance of the mind.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
There are people who tend to either ramble
or stay silent when they’re nervous.
I am unfortunately one of those people
who just won’t shut up when nervous.
Nervous rambling makes me say stupid things
like the sky is red or my shoes are purple
when the sky is clearly blue and my shoes are
clearly black. I might have a conversation with someone
about sports and suddenly say, “You should totally
play this video game.” There are days where I’ll put
on a mask and pretend that I have confidence.
One of those days where I felt like I took
a few too many shots of something strong and
gain the false confidence of talking to that girl
that I’ve been staring at for the past ten minutes.
While I’m walking towards this girl, my mind
screams for me to stop. My body won’t stop.
While I’m talking to her, I tell myself to shut up.
Instead of shutting up, I talk out of my *** and
recite a poem about how I can’t shut up.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
A crowded room, I just dance, finding solice beneath the mask.
Friends they chatter laugh and squee, every one enjoying humanity.
Pulse is racing, words they vanish I can't stand this.
I wish I could join the crowd and interject some interlect.
Instead the panic steals the magic and now its to late, oh woe is my fate.
Stuck inside my own head, is it time yet for my bed?
Slip away quietly drinking my sobriety, hoping that next time my courage will win and I can finally play my part, instead of dancing in the dark.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
When your head gets stuck in the ground there’s a feeling all around, you’re too tall, too small, too fat or too thin, people judging you everywhere, you never know what tomorrow might bring.
This feeling inside grips you tight, keeps you awake at night, haunting you till the morning light. You want to scream loud and true to let everyone know what you’re really going through.
This feeling inside haunts you while you work, it’s always on your mind, everyone just says you’ll be fine, you try to fight it but it just simply won’t be fought
With this feeling inside you never understand who you’re friends are, who they might be, who’s talking behind your back, who’s truly on your side, when will this feeling finally subside?
You’re constantly looking for a route out from this feeling inside, all the while it slowly wears away at your soul, facing it every day is begging to take its toll, this feeling inside comes over like a tidal wave that’ll follow you to your grave.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC