Our poems are our children.
We can't have favorites but we do.
I want my child who speaks my
truest to garner your pleasure.
Some of my red headed step child
poems capture your hearts.
I love them all the same.
The party was on fire the
music was beating our hearts
and we were courting on the
the back stairs together alone
and we held tight and soared
into an impossible place and
rode the beautiful beast as long
as we could and were thrown into
the fury of my lovely debris.
It burned my fingers and I drifted
with my beer and shrinks and
beautiful naked imposters to
remind me of your perfection.
I'd have it no other way.
Call it black white brown yellow red
or a chalky grey bluish burnt umber.
it don't matter. I love and hate you
all the same. Be kind and I love you.
Bully and I pity you and set you right.
Every job I ever had was a family.
We knew everything about each other
and those xmas party open bars were
beautiful disasters. I loved them so.
I wish I had a photo of us over years.
We all shared so much sober, drunk and
hung over. We loved and fought as family.
We made us all the better for it.
I think of my work family often and am amazed at the richer my life is for all those beautiful crazy ******* friends!
I hope I find imperfect dark
where all is nothing.
white picket fences aren't.
perfects don't exist.
games aren't battles.
siblings aren't contestants.
panic attacks don't freeze me
into a catatonic fear of me.
no more teachers **** me
and I like it but shouldn't,
but I do and hate me for it.
no more. down the rabbit hole.
I remember the sound of your voice.
We lived the loudest times of life
together. My cousin Mike was constant.
We diverged but you stuck with me always.
I wish I could call you and hear your laugh.
I need it more than ever but you died away.
Each night before bed instead of prayer
I lie in dark and scream muffled truths
into my pillow about how I really feel.
Stop asking me about school. It's school.
It has giant clocks with minute hands
that mind **** each of us. Tick...Tock.
Friends are foes. Lunch is hell. What
table is ok today? Anxiety is my best friend
with me always and everywhere, over my
shoulder as I puke in the stall and feel
brief relief. I drag me to the next class
with cruelty in abundance and giant clocks.