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 Feb 2021 JMB
Emily Dickinson

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you—Nobody—Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you know!

How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one’s name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
 Feb 2021 JMB
I don't know
 Feb 2021 JMB
I don't know

I don't know

I don't know

I don't get it

I don't understand

I cannot comprehend this

I feel stupid and awful but my brain cannot understand

Why is this so hard

Why do I feel this way

Why does it hurt so much

Why did I do that

Why didn't I just do something else

Why can't I just fix this

Why is this so hard

I don't know

I don't know

I don't know
 Feb 2021 JMB
People are utterly filthy.
Rags besmirched black and undertone red in blood, and ****,
and tears, and thrown up alcohol bought cheaper than a
***** on Seventh.
Oh, tell me about it.
I saw a dead person once.
Grime under fingernails and teeth carved in gingivitis--
filth of a body really; but still I cry for this begotten soul
until my own hands grow
disheveled in the hue of
sobbing women.
Women are always sobbing.
My good friend with fishnet tights cries and
cries when the bottle breaks and
glass becomes embedded in those brown
fingertips of hers.
What is worse?
The stench of rotting flesh mixed with Persian White
dripping from a needle three years defective,
or the scent of sobbing women soaked
lily-livered in sweat.
With an honest tongue, politely I exclaim:
I’d rather sit with the flesh of the dead man whose filth is rotting
away with the mist of dawn,
then the crying pupils of thou who breathe in
white wind from the heavens
and exhale clouds coated thick
in a thousand vile songs.
 Apr 2019 JMB
 Apr 2019 JMB
Put your cigarette out on my soul.
If it keeps you safe,
It’ll keep me sane.
No matter the sensation
of nicotine flame
pressed to my heart
I’ll love it if it means
I can love you as well.
 Apr 2019 JMB
 Apr 2019 JMB
I bet your lips taste like ashes.
Cyanide flavored poison-
sweet like candy floss but
Deadly; burning from the inside,
Hands hot- the back burner of
your sister in law’s cast iron stove.
The flame of desire ravaging
your skin in your past lover’s
Press flesh too hard; the best way-
It leaves violet marks of recycled love.
And I’d dream of a future,
while you thought out tonight’s dance.
And I’d listen to the rain
hit each brick wall,
while you turned out the light
and felt nothing at all.
 Apr 2019 JMB
She crawls around in white
satin shorts-
like a dream.
Fluent only In Miss-
The eyes have made
an exception it seems
to see
her diminishing alongside
them; like the dreamscape
she is.
The only see the ecstasy-
lodged between her teeth.
 Apr 2019 JMB
I’m sorry.
Dreadfully so.
Your hearts a mess-
so skillfully trying
to weave its way
through mine.
But I’ve already began
cutting the ties.
I don’t want your love.
I won’t lie; not to you.
I’m sorry
 Apr 2019 JMB
Step One
Feel the bare mattress scratch against your thighs
and moan in self-pity ‘cause it hurts like a-
Rub broken knuckle stubs into your temples.
Stretch out one two three toes and pretend not to taste ashes on your tongue.
(Forget to brush the cancer out of your mouth again?)

Step Two
Oh don't be so ******* self-righteous.
Use scarlet nails to probe Scarlett pupils,
wipe away the morning slime and marijuana high, because
quite frankly, no-one wants to see that.

Step Three
The carpet has another puke stain.

Step Four
Walk around Carpet’s new addition.
Choose to be Superman- leave lights off.
You're not Superman.
Bump in T.V. stand, dressing table, fan.
Jesus Kid. How many more bruises do you want to acquire?
‘Sal right though. They’ll fit in just fine.

Step Five
Violet fluorescent bulb-ly lights that nobody likes.
Come on now- when’s the last time you’ve changed them?
Yellow ****- not surprising.

Step Six
Wow. You have not gotten any better looking.
The poetically inclined ****** with knotty curls
and a brazen face your mother likes to call
is staring from that cracked up mirror
into your pink, anemic eyes.
And man.
Even your ******* reflection wants to jump ship.

Step Seven
Where are your shoes?

Step Eight
High school really is Hell, huh?
Keep your head up Kid; or down…
Last night’s hurrah is still evident
in those washed out, glazed eyes rolling
around in your head.
But don’t worry-
you’ve got a small token of the American Dream
in your back pocket!
You didn’t forget did you?!
Ah- Happy Birthday Kid;
enjoy your ******* oxy-
and try to stop shaking.
You look a mother ******* drug addict.
sugar coat it thank you.
 Apr 2019 JMB
My Heart
 Apr 2019 JMB
I can’t feel my hands.
They're tingling and,
my feet are sinking
into the carpet.
Red and scratchy carpet that spins over
and over
and over.
But my heart is smiling.
So hard.
it has been a good day
 Apr 2019 JMB
 Apr 2019 JMB
Tall ones are the best.
Don’t cry when they don’t
talk to you- don’t cry when they do.

Read 10 minutes ago

Pretend you're asleep.
I’m asleep I’m asleep I’m-
too tired to see you today, but soon.

Read 6 minutes ago

-I wouldn’t I swear I like you
a lot I would never even think to-
(Tell him- tell him I’m down.)

Seen 20 minutes ago

“Don’t drink the water after schools out;
it’ll make you live forever.”
You smile.
He smiles.

Love is like a dream
where everyone wakes up melancholy;
only lasting a small while.
                                                        I miss your face.
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