#lax
Being a goalie is odd
Because you’re the odd one
You take the hits and the pain
And smile right through it
Being a goalie is hard
Nobody seems to get it
Reacting faster and faster
To catch something you can’t see
They’ll tell you it’s easy
That anyone can catch
But they haven’t trained
Their brain and body not to flinch
They’ll blame you
When they don’t like the score
Even though you’re a team
You should have done better
You should have compensated for the hundreds of mistakes
That you tried to correct
But nobody listened
Because you’re not a field player
You’re a goalie
And what do goalies know
About the plays taught at the practice
That they still attend
I am this goalie
One for lacrosse
I’m weird and have rituals
And sacrifice myself for the team
My body and mind
Are tougher than theirs
But they tell me it’s easy
To not show fear
The thing is
I’m not a real teammate
Just a goalkeeper
Just a brick wall
Just an obstacle
1d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 8:14 PM UTC
The **** does it really?
The **** does it all mean?
To caren’t oh so freely,
To not aim to read in between.
The **** is this monstrosity?
The **** does this represent?
This self-aware precocity,
Diving and thriving in its own lament.
Possessions stemmed from possessiveness,
Losses that led to lenience,
No ***** to give and not a **** to lose,
Too many have come and went.
The **** does it matter, truly?
The **** should it matter to me?
These thinking caps are on too tight,
I’ll embrace this coldness cruelly.
Not to say that I am so daft,
This emulation of me is unflattering,
I’ve come to love this newfound craft,
The ***** become irrelevant when they stop mattering.
Jan 9, 2024
Jan 9, 2024 at 12:48 AM UTC
There’s something about the heat.
The familiar sting on my skin that makes its way up,
Boiling heat that creeps through my veins and fills them up, up, up.
It heightens my senses,
It’s a breath of fresh air after almost being drowned.
The steam that clouds my vision to the point where I can’t remember a time when I didn’t live in a summer fog.
And I’ve never even liked the summer. The sun can go and **** itself for all I care.
What I like are saunas, gas lit stoves, fires, boiling water, matches, artificial heat, steaming showers, candles, body heat in a cold room.
Showers most of all, though.
So warm and wet that the mirror steams and your skin gleams.
Heat: it’s rising higher and meeting the burning tug halfway.
Redness surrounding my eyes, harsh against the plaster coloring of my cheeks.
A kind sort of fever, a comforting sort of fever.
A fullness that pools in all of the dips of my body: cascading warmth.
There’s something about the heat.
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
By leading with heart
Using a guillotine
Is where some start
Following Zen
And learning to crawl
Through ration of arts
Savouring the indelible sweetness
Helps lead the precocious
Enjoying inclusions
Doesn't have to preclude
Seeing with eyes
Can lead to deception
Best plant the seed
Using inception
That's why the Queen of Hearts
Whispers off with your head
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC