"lacrimal" poems
1 4
she offers me, a spot of dust
she raises me under the couch,
on platitudes and warm bread I know it’s
in return for my devotion there
she loves me like the boats today, I start spring-cleaning,
she keeps out on the ocean (this alone
she loves me to be molded, should receive
not to be unfolded more recognition than it will)
I pull out the couch
she bore me bones the vacuum doesn’t quite
the lacrimal bone reach the dust lying
the breastbone on unused carpet,
all the cervical vertebrae the head
I use them to simulate keeps hitting the wall
her expectations unproductive
I put the furniture back
2 in place
I have names, no one will see the lack
I wear them like badges of progress
inspired by something not quite
earned yet 5
while lucid dreaming
I assigned constellations were on
each name my skin
a compartment and freckles in
of me the night sky
If I name them maybe
they will become pollution drowned out
real, not just necessary two thirds
even if most imploded
before they were seen
3 6
with enough necessity were it not for shadows
anyone can tell a lie I would surely learn to
hate the light
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
Oh, fuming teardrop!
You’ve boiled over from wrath and anger,
leaving painful blisters as you sear the heart
Why you don’t evaporate is a wonder
but there must be a valid reason…
If only to let the heart know it lives
Oh, fuming teardrop!
Will you ever learn how to forgive?
Oh, defiant teardrop!
Teetering on the edge and glistening,
refusing to fall to make yourself known
It is not fickle mindedness playing,
rather, a power play of emotions
a blatant refusal to show what’s within
Oh, defiant teardrop!
Why even stop yourself before you begin?
Oh, crocodile teardrop!
If you were truly so, slink back shamefully,
recede to your lacrimal gland and stay put
There is no need for your insincerity,
the world is chaotic as it is, too troubled
Fall not, trickle not, trick not who see you
Oh, crocodile teardrop!
How can you be so heartless to fool people so true?
Oh, pensive teardrop!
How gracefully you streak down window sills
Wash away grime and grit, cleanse everything
Flow unhindered, purify hearts you fill
Laughter may be the music of the soul,
but you are pure— the distilled spirit
Oh, pensive teardrop!
Will you course down blackened hearts, pay a visit?
Oh, jubilant teardrop!
Married to laughter, frolic and dance to its tune
Give birth to hope then soar with elation
Brighten faces, sparkle days, light up the moon
Let souls remember that you speak of pain, joy
Let them remember, then allow them to heal
Oh, jubilant teardrop!
Why did I ever doubt that you are spirit revealed?
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 4:24 AM UTC
Can someone please trade me eyes?
It's unknown how they still have sight
Every since I was 6 the sense have witnessed gruesome events
Now my eyelids flicker past them very seldom
My lacrimal glands have trouble producing saline
I find it nearly impossible for beatitude to gleam from my eyes
And I cannot search for something that my eyes feel sorrow for
Let me at least borrow yours?
Please
So I can see how it feel to grieve
So that tears of joy can travel down my cheeks
I want humor to cause me to wink
I want my reflexes to cause me to blink
Pleeeeeeaaassseeee?
I stand there in the face of danger
When I should be aware
Instead I just stare
...
No glare
Just dispirited
The statical behavior that my eyes inherited
Suppress me from all charity
I'm begging you
No one looks me in my face and feels warmth and comfortability
All that they see is two white igneous rocks
When I wish that they can see marshmallows
That's why I need your help
The optometrist said there's nothing that he can do
That's why I'm coming to you
I just wanna be inspired by life
Can you show me how the world look again just for one day?
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
We just have a few months to go
a few more juvenile fights to handle
a few more days of sneaking out of the class
and for the first time
I don't want the bell to ring early
As each second passes
the dress seems to crease
the dust settles
layer by layer
fighting its way through
it's the last time I'd wear my favorite clothes
The pencils start to shorten
erasers still get stolen
those notebooks still have our chats
the green board carries your creativity
benches would be my favorite mini bed
I promised myself
as I lay my hands on it
My hippocampus reached near to full
lacrimal glands prepare itself
tongue waiting to utter words I never spoke
one last time
salivary glands would miss it recess job
coming from the ground
after playing in the sun
sudoriferous glands loved those strokes of light
I could hear the radiating, chirpy , & shuddering voices
coming from the corridor
happy faces, sad faces, frowned faces,crying faces
promising each other to stay in touch -
half lies
the emotional fools who believed it
I remember crying on my first day
as soon as I stepped
I felt like running away
who knew this would become my favorite destination?
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 2:36 PM UTC
You're the only one I have to write about,
Though I've regained my will to live.
How much pain could I have saved us both,
I never knew how much you had to give.
Don't misunderstand me, we had to go our own ways,
I placed too much faith in how we'd separate.
Tried to save you, tried to save my idea, late,
I tried and failed, should've known,
Should've committed to my parting anger, you should've never called my phone.
I remember you in dreams, sometimes I wake up with an empty arm,
I carved my heart into a target, when you left I wanted harm,
Anything other than the shining light of warmth and bickering we grew through all the distance, but the depth and feeling between the raw *********** of *** and reeling images nestled in the difference of our wrists' width couldn't begin to cut away the lacrimal plaque in my eyes after you cracked the glass and I shot to panic.
Those winter nights inside of you,
The way we let each other in,
The way you helped me drift away from how my old man treated women,
After us I almost wandered back again.
If not for losing you I never would've reached out,
I never would've wanted so badly just to die,
You were my fated leap into the madness,
You were the push that caused my heart to fly.
I want to end us on a good note,
I'll fight like hell not to,
I'll push against that notion,
Like no one ever taught you.
I never gave you presents,
It was my way, no matter how many hints,
Or when you'd tell me right out,
Try to cover my brain in prints,
I guess I'm better off the bad guy,
Sleeping around, cold until my clothes come down,
I've moved on, but barely forward,
I've only managed not to drown.
One day I'll find a partner,
Some dawn will find a bed with two,
A house and kids, maybe a power couple,
Though even if I remain in solitude, in stone,
Even then, my life lived alone,
Would be forever changed by how much I let myself love you.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
Lacrimal ducts clogged.
I am Broken
in the most fundamental way.
Catharsis ineffective, Insufficient.
Insufficient.
Perfect word
to describe everything.
If only there were a handyman
to unclog
my lacrimal ducts
my soul
my cranium
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
i wake up with dried tears on the side of my face
i went to sleep smiling,
i thought
i dreamt of you,
as i remember
but i woke up with dried tears on the side of my face
perhaps my eyes see something
that my brain has not yet processed
they see your eyes trail off
when I'm enthused about my day
they see the way your body
is always slightly turned away
my brain gushes about the
sweet text you sent last week
and the future that could lie ahead
but my eyes are the realists
and don't ignore what my brain blocks
they notice the other girls
listed in your inbox
and my eyes know that
they've seen this all before
and the visions in my head
don't align with what you have in store
so my brain might be behind
and take some time understand
that these tears i wake up with
are not a deformity of my lacrimal gland
instead they are trying to fill me in
on what i am trying to ignore
and all these poems i waste on you
i will soon learn to deplore
i don't want to wake up with
dried tears on my face anymore.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 2:42 AM UTC
all my blackbirds sing for me
and all my friends arrived
roses bloom above my head
a fine place to reside
lacrimal gush under vails will remedy
promises always lie
pain will tell the journey
trenched the soil to reach the sky
all my blackbirds stopped to sing
for they are no more
all my friends left the same
and all the roses wilt in dirt
I've been reckoned as a coward
they will never see what I saw
and all my songs will stay unsung
and all my songs will stay unsung
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 8:03 PM UTC
'He spoke about his scars with uncertainty'
I looked at them with admiration
'He said
He had
Cigarettes
Put out
On his back'
Oh how many tears
have been stuck in your lacrimal sac?
and how many infarcts
are in your lungs?
How many cells of yours
are apoptotic?
And how tired
is your heart
from pumping
blood
to your scars,
in hopes
that there would be tissue to feed
and skin to color...?
...in hopes
that in some way
you have gotten back
to normal?
little does your heart know
you're better than normal
you're special
you're delightful,
"I love you"
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
Troopers invading peaceful nations, waving their country's flag.
We condemn these immoral actions, but we let these effects stack.
A thousand deaths today, no mathematical formula to predict tomorrow's.
We don't let our emotions sway, there's no way to understand their sorrow.
Shaking our heads in disagreement when we witness war on the news.
But that's all we do, then move on cause we can never walk in their shoes.
Our hands are shackled, noble notions suppressed by justified fear.
Hearts are clear, minds haggard, away from justice we steer.
Mothers standing at doorways, sons run the streets with AKs from fallen soldiers.
Fathers run the streets looking for their sons with AKs from fallen soldiers.
Mothers standing at the graves, of daughters who were bombed in their sleep.
They will stand at cemeteries filled with families and then it's vengeance that they seek.
Mortar shells decorated the cities, armies on killing sprees.
Citizens starving, and bullets filled their stomach brutally.
Children thirsty, had their fill from their mothers' lacrimal sac.
Scavengers scavenged on, survival riding on their backs.
I could protest purposely, anti-propaganda policies on picket signs.
I could rally a demonstration, but I know I will be the only one in line.
Jail journeys insufficient for the ****** and rotten, houses wrecked and families broken.
So don't blame me, cause my faith in us is lost, we are a lost cause, these monstrosities will never ever be forgotten.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 2:24 AM UTC
Look into the blackness of my soul,
It's cold and lonely with nothing to hold.
No where to grip so you slip into the salt of my lacrimal gland.
Back out you roll and mix into the dirt imbedded in my hand,
You feel the warmth of a once loved man.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 5:55 AM UTC
I am awaiting your presence;
As if my body is in shock and I am freezing to death.
With only one intention, which feeds into an urge to love.
A permissive thought, that only you could bring by touching me once again.
Dying for the plica interdigitalis to be again connected,
And the volar surface of our hands to re-ignite the flame, that once blazed vigorously.
I am awaiting your presence;
To see that beautiful smile
One that lightens my spirit of laughter and joy.
Until then I will remain cold, empty, frustrated like a deserted man waiting for his chance to escape.
Life without you is comparable to the very arteries of our body,
pushing oxygenated solution from the heart to keep the rest of its system alive.
With the exception that, this solution is missing its solvent.
A substance that possesses fluidity,
Your presence would once again rehydrate this dilapidated body.
This leaves me to wonder,
That may be my body would just surrender
To the force of the lacrimal gland, secreting its solution into a hysterical cry.
I am awaiting your presence;
To smell that natural aroma of life
A sense of freshness that illustrates the feeling of springtime once again.
One that will magically open the doors to my heart,
Moving through each of its four chambers, exposing my wall of love.
Open for change, like a plant with blossoms ready to expose its true beauty to the world.
But!!
Take your time because when you do grace me with your presence, your presence will be eternal.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 6:20 PM UTC
My cadavers in lab are not the only autopsy I’ve been performing
In this year since I’ve been free of you
In this year you’ve made a fool of me
For believing so wholly
In a future that depended on anything outside myself.
I take apart my patient and peer into what feels like my own heart
Trying to make sense of the connections
Trying to understand where anything fits in
When what I am looking it seems empty, drained long ago
Pooled into a somber puddle I’d drown in, literally behind me,
If not for the drainage vents, or lacrimal glands, installed for said overflow.
“We are dried out and lifeless together,” I think, forcing grim humor to compensate for the horrors of the visions I now see three times a week. “We know what it’s like to have a heart that doesn’t work anymore.” Maybe one of my classmates will be able to understand it better than me. I’m kidding—but don’t worry, this is why I’m in therapy.
In the end and like in medicine, I must come to accept
That there are things in life you can’t make sense of
There are things in life you must try to treat, without knowing the pathology
Without understanding what went wrong, truly
No matter how frustrating that may be.
The compromises that seemed so hard,
Seemed like pulling teeth, seemed so grinding, and difficult
Were quickly then made mandatory, dissolved in Zero
Zero, time together on the phone,
Zero visits to each other throughout our busy year
Zero balance between us to balance, as one grabbed or took slack.
For a situation that seemed so complicated you went ahead and made it simple—
There won’t be anything that needs sorting out—
There won’t be anything, of us, period.
So thank you, I guess, for teaching the natural conclusion;
Despite it feeling like I mimic, my now cardiac-lack friend,
The only heart that’s truly missing in the equation was yours
And mine, just hidden in the shadow from all the bruises,
Just has to learn to heal.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 8:05 PM UTC