#inventory
When they took my heart
they left me this shyness;
thin as smoke,
with nowhere to rise.
It was the veil I kept for you,
that soft hesitation before a touch,
the pause
that made my hands tremble.
Now it sits in my chest
like a locked door
in an abandoned house.
There is no point
in guarding an empty room.
So I carried my modesty to the market,
laid it out
between the cracked mirrors
and bitter stones.
I watched thieves haggle
over the part of me
that used to blush
at your name.
I bartered that shame
for a little warmth.
I traded my silence
for the strength to leave.
By the time I walked away
my face felt cold,
strange to me;
as if I had pawned my reflection too.
But at least I was lighter.
At least I was empty.
There is no sense in being shy
when there is nothing left
to hold.
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 1:19 AM UTC
there would be no sleep
this night
wracked with reckoning
futile cup of decaf cooling
minutes become
memories murmuring
recriminations reverberate
bowed head nodding
over quiescent keyboard
as vivid visions vanish
one
into
another
hesitant hours hovering
errors echoing
in void of forgiveness
aching agony of awareness
becomes brutal
he receives respite
as night became day
he understood what truth
could be known
he has only himself
and the day before him
and so he lay down
and so his eyes close
in the light of morning
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 12:15 PM UTC
LIVING IT UP
Never lose
sight of
the goals
you've set
for yourself.
Because only
you can
make your
dreams
come true.
And the best
way to earn
a dream is
inventing it
by living it up.
#c9_fm
Dec 28, 2020
Dec 28, 2020 at 1:58 AM UTC
I am afraid that the next thing I give
Will be the last thing I had left.
I don’t exactly have an inventory.
I haven’t checked in recently
To see how my stocks are doing.
I put my money on the wind
And the howling wolves
And the impossible way that two people’s bodies
Fit together sometimes.
I am afraid that I do not have enough left
That is just me,
That came from something that I am.
I worry that every time I open my eyes and ears
I breathe in other peoples’ lives
And other peoples’ stories
And now when I let something out
My stories and theirs get jumbled
Like the air in our dead end lungs.
And every kiss I give to you
Is a thousand words
That I can no longer say
And every wink is a painting that I won’t finish.
Every word I let go
Is another that I can’t have for myself.
I don’t want to be selfish
I want to be able to give it away,
But I have seen too many women that I loved
Give themselves to people
Who collected all of their kisses and words in greedy fists
And never gave anything back.
I want to keep the unloveable,
Untamable, inimitable part of me
Close and secret.
So that when you break my heart
I won’t have to limp away
Missing a leg,
Missing an exit strategy,
Trying to fill the hole
I dug.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 3:19 PM UTC
Head and Shoulders, knees and toes
That's the way the story goes
Here is something no one knows
To lepers...it's important
It's the inventory song
You may think that this is wrong
Put me back where I belong
But, lepers need to do this
Count your digits 'fore you leave
It's a fact you must believe
They're not out for to deceive
They need to inventory
If they count and all is there
They face the world without a care
They lose their parts, but not their hair
Their day will be successful
Head and Shoulders, Knees and toes
That's the way the old song goes
I've got four fingers and six toes
I guess I'll put some gloves on
The inventory song is neat
It teaches them, they need two feet
Or they can't walk down the street
It really is important
Gripping things is kind of tough
When digits...you've not enough
You know your fingers' with your stuff
You'll go and find it later
So, if you think that this is wrong
And you do not like this song
Put me back where I belong
I think this song's a service
Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes
I've a friend with half a nose
Now you know what no one knows
Inventory is required.
.
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 6:37 PM UTC
Though phantoms may be howling at the edges of my mind
Ripping away gobs of flesh until my soul lies exposed
Rotting off my skull, hanging loose from my tired bones
Whilst the terrifying multitude of my unseen fear
Hath become like the vile, gnashing teeth of night's Reaper
As I bare witness to the demons rising and writhing
Within the silver pool of my own lean, haunted reflection
Yet I cannot turn away; Even in my darkest hour
I must summon the courage to stay; For this is my reckoning.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
If only I were a clerk
sent by some company
to inventory you.
I would be very
thorough.
Toes to nose,
thighs to eyes,
hips to lips,
north to south:
not one
delicious morsel
would I overlook.
Of course,
protocol would require me
to kiss, taste or touch
each lovely portion
for quality control.
Yes, I would be
painstakingly thorough
indeed.
That is a job
I could love.
~mce
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 5:58 PM UTC