"overstaying" poems
I bleed letters, breathe words--
lived in utero with a pen.
Creative gypsies & outcasts
are brethren.
I will die
for their plaid sky brushstrokes
&/or verbal slip-bang poetry.
That's my religion.
Self-doubt is my sin.
I have a habit of overstaying my welcome,
another is coming on a little strong.
Communication is my mantra,
my philosophy is intelectual stimulation.
Putting up with ****
is second nature.
Spit in my face.
Call me names.
Don't give me that promotion.
I'll survive--
probably even laugh about it later...
But...
take advantage of me--
or those I hold close--
if I even see a glint
of the knife
you're going to put in my back
I promise--
I promise
the pain you will feel
leaves a scar much worse
than whatever could happen to me.
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 1:38 PM UTC
(... And i like you.)
We never tire
Of trying to fit everyone
Into the shape of voids
Our hearts have carved
And that's fine.
It's still not something I'd do to you.
(..And i like you)
Love has made a ghost
Out of the best of us
And we anchor to the memories
To save our entities.
And honestly who am i to judge?
But you knock new air into my dead, dusty lungs
(..And i like you)
We ache,
And we mould our ache into arts.
Abusing and devouring love,
Like scorched land tasting the first rain drop.
And I'm one of the many inked hearts.
I would leave my pen though, you make me want to.
(..And i like you)
We all have been loved,
And we all have been lonely,
Some of us feel the presence,
More when it starts to ebb.
And I've always felt myself overstaying my welcome, even before arrival.
But I'd leave my pieces on your door, as an excuse for you to call me.
(..And i like you)
We are always
looking for a replacement.
Disguising our sadness with a new skin
Trading one addiction for another; a vicious cycle.
All these temporary fixes and the perpetual sadness.
But you could be a detour from this dead-end I'm leading to.
(And i like you.)
Fistful of mosaic desires,
Confessions barely held in by my teeth
Future is easier to swallow than salvage
Your intoxicated lips smirk in agreement.
All these loving hearts with eyes askance.
But something tells me if i showed you my palm, you'd understand.
(..And i like you)
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 4:33 AM UTC
i'm back at home
and you welcome me with open arms
"welcome home, we missed you!"
a warm embrace leads to a tender kiss
a night in bed, very well missed
a one day stay, leads to a week long stay
eventually, i pack my things, it's time to go
you stand in the doorway, holding the **** firmly
"you're not going anywhere, you BELONG here."
you're right, i do belong here.
i can't argue that.
i unpack my things, get cozy in bed.
you lay next to me, place your arm on my chest
everything wells up, the feelings set in
the familiar settings, the normal mindset.
darkness welcomes it's self around me
it's my second home, i can't argue.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 5:27 PM UTC
I'd always been used to disappointments. Disappointments of all kind. It was funny, though, wasn't it? How people would often laugh off disappointments; shrug, smile, and say something like "oh, no, don't worry about me - i'm used to it!" truth is, they weren't. And i wasn't used to it either. We wouldn't like to admit it, but every disappointment, every failed attempt at short lived sucess, every disastrous relationship, and every bit of spilt milk came as a shock. We're always expecting a positive outcome for ourselves; that just this once things might work out. What was the opposite of the word 'disappointment'? I don't think there is one. Everything is a disappointment, felt in higher and lower variations. Everything and everyone is a neatly wrapped up parcel, with a pretty pink ribbon, that appears a present, but is actually nothing but a disappointment waiting to happen. Exploding into sighs and tears and rubbed eyes.
Humans didn't seem to notice just how much hope every fiber of their being actually contained. Strands of hope intertwined with their DNA structure. It was really the only thing that kept us going when we felt completely abandoned and lost and utterly alone. I whispered it to myself, "Hope."
That same afternoon, when you physically entered my mind (since, all this time you had been living there, mentally. Overstaying your welcome, might I add.) I questioned the growing smile on my face, contrasted with the painful 'gut feeling' I was experiencing as well. Since you left all I'd been hoping for was that you'd come back and tell me something along the lines of, "I was wrong, I need you. I want you" and then top it off with the overused, 'I love you' card. I'd leap into your tanned, muscular arms and then, well. Well I hadn't really thought past that moment. In the three months you had been gone, all I pictured as 'happiness' was you loving me back.
pathetic, wasn't it?
We're all just looking for something bigger than we're able to find. Searching for more substance on this little planet with these heart breaking people. Okay, okay, people weren't all that bad. But one thing that people are, unintentionally or not, is selfish. We want the best for ourselves, of course.
even though I'd guided myself to believe that my life was all about you, it was in fact all about me, me, me. There was only one 'you' but there were a billion 'me's within me. A me who is happy, a me who is sad, a me who is constantly confused and a me that convinces me I'm okay.
And you see, we are all actually okay. Perhaps being 'broken' or 'damaged' just appeared more intriguing to both others and ourselves. Did I really want to be 'happy'?
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
Today I am grateful for the kindred spirits who walk around with
contented smiles tracing their lips for no reason
other than the blue sky above
free from blemish save for the few whispish clouds
clinging to the fringes of its domed expanse.
Together we - my kindred spirits and me -
breath the free air.
Its crispness rushing past teeth
over tongue and down throat
into lungs drying out the slippery skin it brushes on the way.
The wind in our chests is fleeting, transient;
never overstaying its visit.
But its hurried exit doesn't leave us empty or sad
for the wind always returns,
never wanting to be parted too long
from the close proximity of our beating hearts.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
they say misery loves company and you made your stay longer than needed, overstaying your own welcome. and i’m not sure if you noticed, maybe you did… but when the time came to pack up your things you forgot to take your misery with you.
Nov 25, 2023
Nov 25, 2023 at 12:15 PM UTC
i haven't been myself
for quite some time -
different versions,
lingering as long
as appropriate
(or long overstaying
their welcome),
shuffling from one
skin to the next,
one pain
to the next -
we redress,
nurse the wounds
(we've gotten
good at this),
a facsimile
of a person
until i find the real one
but being a person
at all
these days
is like repeating the same
song, the same wave,
the same splotch of starry sky
through the kaleidoscope
of every open eye
bleeding together
into hazy nothingness
and everythingness
it's been silent ever since
and i'm not sure
i'd recognize self
anymore than she'd
recognize me
one and the same
but only by name.
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 1:51 AM UTC
If incense is burned as a sacrifice, I'm setting my heart on fire.
It starts now.
Cut the "sorry" from my lips and rip the worry from my heart.
Sever the knots in my abdomen so I can stomach the thought of you.
Make me into a memory,
Woven together like
Strands of time thinner
Than my patience
And as elongated
As your favorite excuse.
Rid me of your memory that insists on overstaying its welcome.
You aren't ******* welcome.
Burn away the scars on my conscience, but leave the ones on my skin.
At least they remind me that healing still exists.
Let it remind me
To stop pouring myself
Out like honey
For boys that only see their
Own reflection in my emptiness.
Because for you,
I would have gone to hell and back,
Until I realized that traveling to
A land with no love or compassion
Took nothing more than a visit
In your direction.
But despite it all,
You are art
And you will never die,
Even though you made sure
My feelings for you did.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 2:05 AM UTC
Mid-April in northeast Ohio.
She’s bitter at the cold,
for overstaying its welcome.
The snow obscures the line
between the sidewalk
and the Devil’s Strip.
There’s a long line
of determined footprints
punched into the snow behind her.
Halfway through a song and a cigarette,
the CD skips -
figures.
These library disks never play for ****
She ***** her fist
and whacks her Walkman.
Across the street,
in a wifebeater and sweatpants,
he people-watches from his front porch.
Sipping ***** and orange juice
from a chipped mug -
World’s Greatest Dad.
In his driveway sits a ‘97 Cavalier
with a plastic wrap passenger window
he’s hoping holds up to the wind.
Will this ever stop?
he says to himself, toward the falling snow.
A passerby might think he meant the weather.
Next door, she’s been up all night
with her newborn tornado siren
fruitlessly singing lullabies off key.
Six cups of coffee
keep her from collapsing
into a pile of ***** laundry.
She thinks about herself as a kid.
Thinks about how she used to like to
walk with her eyes closed.
How she used to like the thrill of it
the uncertainty and doubt of it.
This is like that. She tells herself.
She almost believes it.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 4:35 PM UTC
Sadness needs no invitation
no open house
or big party
sadness shows up on your doorstep
whenever it chooses
4am on a snowy night
or 3pm on a sunny day
It has no reason or rhyme sometimes
It just seeks you out
and decides to crash on your couch
an unwelcome guest, sadness is
often overstaying any welcome given
You can move homes
You can run away
but sadness is quite the detective
even in the best hiding spots
it will eventually seek you out
and invite itself back into your life
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
there you are
sleeping in my mind again
second-guessing your presence
still hurts every now and then
a long-term visitor
overstaying your welcome
my heart was your home
now that feeling is seldom
the blame is on me
it's my fault in the end
there's no disguising that
i'm the one who invited you in
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 2:57 PM UTC
To meet the love of my life
And to listen to him talk
About the love of his life –
Honestly,
It wasn’t the biggest misery
At all.
Told me he was there
To wait for her,
And pick her up.
They would go home together.
There
Were sparkles in his eyes,
Was longing in his voice,
Was bliss with his fingers.
I was
And I am
Beyond doubt
Happy, to see him that way.
We don’t meet any time,
Because every time is cruel.
We don’t talk often –
It will be scary.
But meeting like this
One beautiful night
Inside a church
You wearing red
And I, in my best shade –
It isn’t bad.
To meet and talk
Accidentally like this
About the weather
How our lives go
Our political views
You’re engaging.
And I felt it too long
To be in your company
Or I might be
Overstaying
I told you I’m going.
But you did not let me go,
Like how it should be.
You took my bag like
How you have taken
A piece of me.
I wish that path was longer,
Or the church gate farther.
Being pampered
By a gentleman
That you are.
All good things must end.
So are these feelings.
Every time, all the time,
It shouldn’t be there –
This unwelcome emotion.
And I left
Like how I should do – I should be.
I left you my warm smile too,
And that part of me
Who is always with you.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 10:45 PM UTC
It’s a dull woollen grey sweater day
Where the birds too have withdrawn their song
and tucked their wings in for winters chill fingers
that will reach out and capture their whistling tunes.
Dropping pleasantries on the big city boulevards
Hidden from prying eyes, windows shut tight
like mouths with no words left.
Winter comes suddenly.
With no pamphlets announcing a matinee
show of ballet beauties or bronzed horsemen
riding in the sultry sun on careless beachfront.
That shuffle sand and people into shady nooks
and under trees.
Winter does the opposite.
Each evening from now winter will keep the refrigerator door
open for chilled soups to warm up to toasted breads
to bring a summer inside ourselves with its comfort.
Of course the weathermen will wander of course
talking up storms and snowfalls, ice and wind sleet
and temperature drops to keep the moods down
locked and lifeless, now waiting for summer to come around.
The garden will go limp with excuses
shedding its autumn floral displays
and standing bare and naked before
the mirror of winters reflection.
As each day passes, the mood will dampen down
and slink into caves of warm pockets.
We go from room to room
aimlessly looking out the snowy mountains
Wearing their white skull caps like chinese market gardeners
waiting to harvest
the last fading greenery around.
Soon the snow will
capture the mountain ranges
and spread its feathery fishnet sheets
all the way down to the valleys.
This is it. The conquest of windchill against a blazing summer
Is complete. Down at the door level of temperatures
it feels unique to be so isolated and lonely.
The sun does come out but it acts s subdued and
lukewarm- not basking, not bright,
just staying for a short while each
day and leaving even before dusk comes rapidly,
never overstaying the welcome.
Author Notes
The seasons now change in New Zealand. Only yesterday it was summer filled with so many pleasant activities. Autumn has its own language of colours, but winter rolls in and rocks, drawing us into ourselves and planning for next summer. It is a warm winter now.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
Have you ever looked at yourself in the
mirror and you just can't recognize yourself?
Yeah, those are my eyes,
and my nose,
and my lips...
Physically, that is me. I see my body
unhindered.
But there is a phantom there nonetheless-
haunting what is supposed to be
me.
It's like I am here, with all of you
and I am laughing and telling the story of
that one time... Always "that one time."
There are thousands of "that one time stories" I tell
you the way I want you to hear them
but never the way I want to tell them,
Yes, there's the facts but can you sense any of the emotion?
"But how did that make you feel?"
how did that make you feel?
Six words I've never heard
but six words I ask myself every day
A question I ask but I can never bring myself to answer.
A question so straightforward has become my archenemies
and something so simple has become so complicated.
And maybe that's why I can't answer, or won't.
The answer may be easy, but the truth,
the truth is difficult.
I don't know the exact words
or how to make you understand
It's like I'm suffocating and my breathing is
getting harder and harder, heavier and heavier.
I don't know if this is what it feels like to drown
or get buried alive...
but maybe subtract the water and dirt
and replace it with words, and I could imagine
it is.
All of the words left unspoken
and silenced,
the phrases I've kept hidden in my locked chest filled with
secrets and lies
the sentences I've tried to deny to the world, to every astral plane,
and to the demons I've allowed to take residence inside my very core.
I know there's such thing as a pill much too large to swallow,
but nowhere in my mind did I know that silence fit the expression perfectly.
And perfectly,
The words I could never utter I consumed- and alike I've swallowed one too many.
And now my eyes stare bloodshot,
my nose breathe like that in a doldrums state,
and my lips purse blue and frozen.
Internally, everything is shutting down.
So yes, when I see myself in the mirror,
the figure is familiar but I do not know
that reflection.
So when I look in the mirror,
I do not see me-
Instead, I see a visitor
overstaying a visit.
A visitor
longing nothing more
than a tranquil release back into
the current.
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 1:44 AM UTC
*in spite of what surrounds us
whatever circumstances are
we are learning to find peace
within ourselves
regardless of what's
going on around us,
learning to self-soothe
kind of thing and find
we all are coming through
to the other side, strong
persons we've missed;
our friendships through
a new season approaching
and a sense begins to form
that peace rising up from
inside the very core of you!
and it's a happy moment
this first day of autumn
here, although summer
is quite happily overstaying
so colours are changing
and the breeze is blowing
face the horizon, your hair
a banner waving, highlights
in sun beams, catch and shine*
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 9:46 PM UTC