By the water,
Ants on my legs;
I’ll let them use me as a bridge.
They have yet to bite,
Sting or bother,
As much as the flash
When I saw you beside me,
Hair blocking my view from the boat ramp.
That fluffy, flannel hat.

Reading through squints.
The pages reflecting the sun back,
Many reminders I will soon make my own.
The hills dotted with families,
Lovers,
Loners.
Don extends his hand and teaches me,
About his kids, grand girls and losses.
The water cracks against the rocks.
I’ll think of him as I hear symphonic cries,
Reminiscing my youth,
Forgetting you again, fondly this time.
We deserve the chance,
And I hope we end up like Don

Who put a magnet on the pendulum?
Newton’s cradle halts.
Imagine the string metal ***** suspended in space,
You and I are what’s in between,
And what’s not at all;
As well as everything.

I’ll reach to you
When the clock is right,
Which is twice a day
In this instance per lifetime.

I’ve swung and missed
Could’ve sworn you cared
I hope by February
It’s something else in the air

Rushing the clock
Never knowing when is too early
Until it’s impossibly late

You were my Gray
Your eyes held blue,
Or brown - I don’t recall.
Much love and laughter dawns and dusks but sunshine’s deep of all

Scratching
Scraping
Pings and pangs
Throbbing
Pressure
Squeaky inhale
Hard exhale
Stuffy
Sticky
This is supposed to be like this

For many hours,
Two or three,
Pages flipped by too dry fingers.
Lick the thumb,
Flip and balance on my chest,
Neck angled oddly.
Training and straining
My scarred retinas
Begging for some timely fatigue

Why would I drive
fifteen minutes
to secure the table
for 30
in a realm where
we could've won
so many more
and laughed over
many more lost
because at the end of the day
nobody actually cares who
is stripes or solids
just play when it's your
god ****** turn
and don't knock over
the quarters

Banter
The weather
Sports, and your beer.
Non alcoholic? Why are you here?
“Tonight’s the night”
No, sir, time for bed.
Closer to my mom,
Mr. Salt and Pepper head.
The ‘tenders as inmates
Some lager with lime,
Expressing cheeks clenched
The duration of time.
“The ladies are splitting rations,”
They giggle and pour.
The crowds coming in
Time to head for the door

Fireworks
Fireflies
Firecrotch

It looks so ridiculous
But those shoulders?
Let them watch

I will go back tomorrow to the place we knew
so well.
You’d squat in boots and skinny jeans
I’d glance, my heart would swell.
But now I have my sights set on some papers bound in glue.
It doesn’t hurt so bad today to reminisce of you.
I’ve figured what I’m looking for you never could provide -
Though what you once did long ago I wish will again be mine,
But from a mouth that doesn’t hold such sharp hostility.
For all I tried to do was the best of my abilities.
Not your fault, or mine, perhaps
That really is the truth.
A waitress follows to the door as you fled from the booth.
You introduced me to situations that didn’t hold my care,
It’s a new year and optimism is fragrant in my air.
I know it now, what it may mean to truly wish the best,
But here on out I know what’s safe to keep close to my chest.
Your morals slipped as did the mask and finger pointed wrong;
resentment beginning to blossom where I see it took so long
For me to understand that I was nothing but a kid,
Objectified as flowers, mothers, sunrises you could rid.
Arms wrapped tightly around myself, I whisper in her ear,
“You didn’t deserve that, baby. It will be better on from here.”

Cheekbones hot,
Tears shockingly cold,
Anger is consuming.
A disguise for the loneliness that is
Suffocating me.
Christmas Eve solidarity.
Exhausted doesn’t begin to define
What’s felt behind my sternum.
Screaming, fighting, running -
None of it works.
The bigger person never feels big.
I feel so, so small.

And tear out a page!
Another! Another!
Some get caught on the binding
**** up the thread!
See the glue on the edges
This is healing my head

Phone a friend
Perhaps I'd follow the lead
Predictable, you couldn't.
I have to.
We'll be there soon
You'll have much to
Post about
Positively waiting for the shoe of the
Polarity to drop

Expensive wood and brass
Traded for ego
A cry to be seen superior
But alas,
Claiming businessmen support
You’re a *******

I'll never see you again
I'll likely never hear your voice
I forget what it looks like when you brush your hair behind your ear
But I'll always remember what you order
And the snacks you'd reach for every time
And I'll remember to be grateful that
Even if you don't like those Doritos anymore
You used to
And me
And that's worth everything
And nothing

What happens

Genuinely believing
Every temporary, life changing love
Is better off after they sever me.

and here I sit
with letters writ
by people who get me.

a beautiful and unexpected
time for being seen.

for groups, I've steered away and hid -
the sense of self ran dry,
but brave, authentic, courageous fun;
characterizations that make me cry.

who knows why I did dig my head
so deeply in the sand,
when points between what is and could lies within my own two hands.

that silly little metaphor I've researched way too much,
just to come to realize it's been here, strange yet such.

full speed ahead, some slow and quick;
the balance is okay,
and knowing fullness comes through taking each thing
day by day.

And won’t
Think or write;
Find the lining, copper search collapse.
Death
We witnessed together.
Foreshadow, always tends to.
Unease in my chest
Blessed to feel, everything always.
Growing
Tired of this painful polarity.
A scab shall be buried

Switch blade tongue **** my *******

Wailing!
Not the night.
Sunshine never brighter, refusing to dim;
where are you to be found?

Swept away by the current too far!
Disgruntled over the butterscotch car.
Indefinitely wondering how you are;
do you ever see the beam?

Why do I recite
Conversations every night
Waiting to be told
What's wrong or right

You used to hold me dear
Whisper nothings in my ear
Where did it all skew so…

Who's keeping score?
Your soul echos.
You don't keep anybody around to celebrate.
Using utilities unpaid by you..
It was never about the **** you stole; I can admit the projection. An *******, nonetheless, and you'd agree in a moment of honesty.
Recognizing you must've needed someone to feel the way you've felt.
How lucky am I to be your catalyst!

You arrive
As I exit
I now realize what you felt
Too late
The lost chance not fault of my own
Nary an invite
What could be
Or would’ve been
**** it

Blood filled ears between the trees,
gaze deep in canyons below.
This is meant for me as hand arises
once one asks
“Who’s first?”

Dauntless? Perhaps not my claim,
but not a jitter in the knee
when falling back and forgetting to question,
worry, think or ask.

This is meant for me,
but where might one find thrill like this
in Texas?

My heart is heavy,
Candles lit
For a reunion that will never come.
Where are you?
Who are you?
Does your smile still take up your whole face?
You left something
When you left.
There’s no lost and found
It seems you never noticed it was gone.
Perhaps you read the eulogy in solitude.
It’s being held onto with care,
Just in the event the wind blows a memory your way and the longing makes its way
From me
To you.
We’re under the same moon
And that is enough to soothe
Despite a lonesome tear finding its way
Into my ear tonight.

My goodbye has never entered the air.

All’s well that ends well
All’s well that end swell
Ol’s well that ins dwell
Ol swelt hat..
Ends?
Well
ol’s felt hat ends
Before his nose,
He lies

Never would I intend
To wreck your home
I just miss the brass against my palm
When I'd walk in to find you sleeping sound
Expedited pipeline from cold to comfort
You'd smile at me

I don't want to shift your foundation
You'd hedges seem well maintained
Frankly, my siding needs attention.

I cross the street against my will, the better judgment saves me one more time.
I wouldn't know who opened the door anyway
I have yet to practice my sales pitch

My brain knows more
Than my body does
Which is unfavorable and makes me ignorant
To what feelings and emotions go together
But I somehow always wake up in time
To make it where I need to be
On very few hours of sleep
And that productivity
(The illusion of such, rather)
Keeps most afloat
As we drown

fuzzy
silly
subtle numb,
a punch or ****
the same.
locked in on a face
but
on the side they call
your name!
look in that way and see a
group you've never
seen before,
but not a care, you
start your lonesome trek across the
floor.
some shoulder shakes
and footwork
you approach them in
your stride,
and now new faces
fill the yearbook
you keep deep inside

Little Lindsay lied a lot,
to anyone with ears.
Twisting, turning every thought -
she’d used others for years.
One day she thought she’d pull the wool
over a well trained eye;
forgetting all that would be felt,
through face or words can’t hide.

Up in the air, in blinding clouds, she’d wrinkle at the nose.
For her best mate, her trusted friend
had dried up at the hose.

Riddling lips, grasped one last time,
she tried hard to save face.
But little Lindsay played so poor,
embarrassing disgrace.

For could one trust another who could hate from the shadows?
You’d never know if love and care was being kept in tow.

Letters writ, with seeming guilt, though through those lines remained
the little lies of which every relation would be strained

the faculties haven't had a meeting in months
communication across the board is abysmal at best
this is not the teamwork once sold

tired metaphors preaching togetherness
all forgetting autocracy

Besides knowing
Everything about me, good and ugly,
She knows how to make cement a feather.
That’s the most invaluable trait
I could hope for in someone I share my soul.
Everyday I hope to be as impactful on her.

A ****** stamp,
Or the shelves,
Or TV,
Or lamps,
The desk? **** that, too.
But to dwindle it down,
To your perceived disrespect
Of the **** that feed you no matter how hard or often you bite?
Laughable
Pathetic
And embarrassing
Mutually, trust.

I will wait
Chin resting on my wrists
The circulation gets cut off
I don’t mind the tingle in my fingers

I will wait
For the letter I’ll never receive
A holiday I’ll experience lie-less
Perhaps someone with a smile
Hands me a bow wrapped box

I will wait
For the nauseating pit to fill
With spirit, or spirits, maybe spirits.
Who am I to decide at this point?
Or I shall, change of pace.

I will wait for that feeling I’ve felt
And I won’t suffocate the flame once it sparks
Or perhaps I will.
Polarity

I pick and pester my own peace.
“An invisible splinter!”
Far and wide, deep and thorough.
Darwanistic ableist? Elitist?
Doubtful. Few wise words from the ponytail with powder blue nails.
“I’m sorry!”
Written up, for the truth over the lie - always.
Nauseating; the perspective isn’t beyond me.

Over this ominous thing, stumbling
Feeling its pulls
Strangled and taught
I pray to god?
About this karmically translucent string

If you think of me
What you think

The best thing you can do for an artist
is break their heart.
The creative thrive when grasping for life,
when they’ve shut out the world and all
that’s left is a pen and paper,
or ivory keys to be brutalized.
The worst thing for a creative
is to confuse good with bad,
and God with themselves -
to start controlling more than they bleed
onto the canvas as they hum into the air.

You’re not,
or perhaps you are.
The update has been rescheduled for years now -
the system is beyond laggy.
Inexpressible grief engulfs
my heart seeing how beautiful
the place is
you left me to be.

Is bubbly,
Beautiful,
More lore than the louvre.

Yet her eyes are sad,
And the tales she tells
Makes me think
About my therapist.

I’d write a poem
about how irritated my gums are,
but the pain is far too consistent
for me to be cute about it.
There’s a tiny man
living between my teeth,
hacking away at my gums,
and the wretched dentist made it worse.
So here I sit,
23 going on 57,
requesting a dentist appointment as I drink mules and watch men argue over solids and stripes,
unaware that a blue collar worker is making my gums throb.

former lessons I wish I grasped
Before it all fell through my hands
We think of each other
You? No them, or him, maybe her
I wish I understood then
I wish they didn't cancel the show
I wonder if you noticed, too?
Will I ever see them again? Or him? Or her?
Or you?
I need to release the control I never had
The tail I'm chasing was clipped - who knew?

My best friend loves God a lot,
and I guess I do, too,
but it’s been a while since we’ve spoken,
and I’m not sure if he thinks about me as much anymore.
Nobody thinks we’re friends because I’ve made some decisions that divvy from what I might’ve been born to do,
but maybe he’ll understand I’m not a marriage counselor,
and my existence was never going to keep my parents together.

If you were to marry,
I’d sit in the crowd,
but not with others amongst the pews.

I’d stand far away -
in the grass with the bugs,
and ponder of me and you.

They’d crawl up my legs,
and I’d scratch at my thighs -
then squeeze gently like you used to do.

Wondering what could have been,
perhaps better if not -
something slick I once thought was glue.

Now you’re not my lover,
a kinship I feel,
but my heart is still beating in blue.