I never mean to be that guy,
But every time a friend uses another friend's Facebook,
The go-to gag will be a status saying "I'm gay," with
Eyeroll emoticons and LOLs promptly following.
Giggles and pointed fingers echo off the walls and
Into the ears of the suffering silent.

Those two words used as punchlines are the heirs,
The progeny of a past bathed in blood.
They are words weighted down by chains linked with laughs
And locked by the smiles and eyerolls.
The free ones revel in the fire baptismal they impress upon
Those left chained to the wall in the shadows.

Like children, they delight in the minor sting of the fireball that destroys those they mock.
Eyes sparkle and smiles flash at the fictional thrill that entertains them and murders the ones who dare to speak.
Their drums beat as the celebrate the chic
Game they get to play--playing Chicken with a train that isn't there
While others are strapped to the tracks by their shadows,
The darkside of the dance.

Songs and howls fill the skies and mix with the screams of the tortured to put the icing on
Their twisted fandango--a brilliant spectacle to distract from the cries for help;
A spectacle as brilliant as the screens of their phones as they type the jokes stained with sadness:
"I'm gay LOL haxored," with the laughs following
At the circus, while miles away a boy sobs into his sheets,
The cold stars his only company.

Every so often
You're unearthed
in my mannerisms,
Relics of the past
Uncovered on accident
and up for interpretation.
The strangest winds
Blow the dirt off
That certain eyeroll
or inflection,
Offering but clues
To my past
and our fall from grace.

Our civilization is over;
No collection on pedestals
Can change that,
Though it's kept on display
So we don't forget our history
And spare ourselves from
Being doomed to repeat it.

i step, i step
tread on, keep on pulling.
turn, turn, lift the load
and step step again
bow down and stand tall
head on my hands
mind in the box
use your eyes and your mouth
swallow, sip, swallow, sip
sit down and stand up
eye roll and walk on
step, step
use your eyes
bow down and stand up
tread on, keep on pulling
sigh and an eyeroll
play along, tread on
i step step
i tread on
i step step again
i bow down and stand tall
and that will be all

Did you ever ask
how long it takes to write
you out of every verse
and all the lines and pages
crumpled in the wastebin
and beads in your hair
and lips drawn like mannequins
and some unsavory sounds
muffled and escaping under the door

Tap tap slap with accent
and headache and eyeroll
while matching shirts stain
in the same exact places
and the low powerhouse hum
hovers somewhere between C and D flat
while beachy melody traipses
over mutual bored expressions

Everything is borrowed, have you ever
built anything with your hands?
Why so soft and exhausted,
you *****? Why don't you stand and fight back?

Unknown monsters disappear
into shadows and thick smoke
leaving a trail of tired descriptors
and false intention

It's the eyeroll,
the "yeah, do what you want"
from trying to please them all at once.
It's the "***** sake"
the "yeah okay"
that makes me
cry myself to sleep for days.
It's the I-am-so-*******-worthless
like a broken record playing
on repeat
it's the please-don't-hate-me
please-don't-forget-me
that never works, it never works.

You write poetry ?
she almost cackles in disdain.
Followed by an incredulous eyeroll
Who the **** reads poetry anymore.

She continued that's pointless
And unattractive
How do hope to get a girl.
As though getting bedded
Was the reason I write.

She introduced me to her sister
I wrote poems for her
That spilled my soul onto the paper.
She read them and
saved them in a collection.

a few weeks later
She invited me to her bed.
A place where I still
read her my poetry.
So many many years later.

I fumbled in the night
through the kitchen

thought about
Them

They still don't get it
Each call is an eyeroll

Swimming swimming
through the kitchen
floor, cluttered with receipts,
shoes, a rug.

They whisper a return
a neverland
a never there

You write poetry ?
she almost cackles in disdain.
Followed by an incredulous eyeroll
Who the **** reads poetry anymore.

She continued that's pointless
And unattractive.
How do hope to get a girl.
As though getting bedded
was the reason I write.

She introduced me to her sister
I wrote poems for her
Poems that spilled my soul
onto the paper.
She read them
and said she loved them.
She saved them
in a collection book.

Afew weeks later
She invited me to her bed.
A place where I still love
To read my poetry for her.
So many many years later.

When i was young i regarded you as the man my parents told me not to be and i loved that.

I smoked with you, laughed with you.
You were my childhood eyeroll
Turned into adult head shake
And into fatherhood, an understanding
Of how stupidly corny your repeated jokes were.

This is review.
Nobody laughed the way you do.

You see
A dog's behavior is a reflection on you, but
Also
Dogs will be dogs.
"I'm not sure who has agency here".
"Well, it's clearly your fault that our dogs are fighting".

Roxanne is bleeding rivulets, and
Jeff has a neat, surgical hole in her snow-white scalp.
Steve is tired of your ****, and
His knee-****** now has a desert chrome shine
From being scraped across the floor.

"Please, tell me what to do and I'll do it".
Shut up.  
With every eyeroll, every sigh
A length of 18-gauge wire
Sadistically pierces my heart.

This is the third night in a row I've cried myself to sleep.
Maybe tomorrow will be the day it all works out.

to me
love is
     our inside jokes that make me laugh until i cry.
love is
     tears being dried on the hardest days.
love is
     the warmth i get when our fingers intertwine.
love is
     stifled laughter from forbidden calls at one am, and
          secrets being shared with the one i fully trust.

love is more than a feeling.
love is an eyeroll, the butterflies in my stomach.
love is matching bracelets, lazy days, stolen kisses, and those returned.

love is promises kept, telling the truth, and holding each other up.

he made me believe in love again.