"preoccupied" poems
there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve
some eat cake with their eyes
while others are busy planning their demise
one wants to see bones, another, headstones
one could love themselves if they were just 40 pounds thinner
"maybe i'll love myself if i just skip dinner"
the other has no appetite, a battle with calories she does not fight
a battle, rather, with herself
to **** herself or stay in living hell
too preoccupied to care what is on the pantry shelf
there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
The stigma that sensitive people are weak needs to diminish.
Just because she feels things down to her bones does not mean she is weak.
She carries everything. Her feelings, other people’s feelings, the world around her as she takes it all in.
* * *
Sensitivity is deemed feeble.
Thick-skinned people are the brave ones, right? They have endured so much that they no longer feel anything. Snide remarks, rude comments, and stressful situations roll off their skin like water during a storm. If it’s already pouring, why worry about each droplet?
* * *
That is the problem, she thought to herself. Are brave people truly brave?
No.
Brave people are the true cowards. Rather than taking their experiences and feeling them, letting them seep into their bones to become the marrow which fuels their bodies, they shut them away; skeletons in a closet.
They have become numb to the baggage they carry at the expense of growing numb to everything else.
* * *
People around her are merely living in this world, she decided, whereas she was absorbing it.
In the spring she lays in the grass, running her fingers through each blade as if it were the Earth’s hair.
When summer nights bring a light breeze, she imagines spirits are hugging her.
In the fall when it rains, she spreads her arms wide and gazes up to the sky, knowing that each water droplet that falls is Mother Nature peppering her skin with kisses.
* * *
Others are too preoccupied making sure their skeletons do not peer out of the closet.
Strength, after all, is the ability to withstand vast amounts of pressure and God knows how much force those skeletons must bear.
* * *
In the middle of the night, her father hears her talking to someone, except there is no response. It is as if she is conversing with herself when in actuality, she is conversing with her skeletons.
After midnight when others have drifted off to sleep, hoping that their skeletons do not come to haunt them, she is wide awake, her closet door open.
She lays in bed and asks her anxiety how it’s day was, laughs at a witty comment that her depression has made about her life, and gives thanks to the insult a bully gave her in the first grade for making her the person she is today.
The things that should weigh her down, she has befriended. They come to visit so often, anyways.
* * *
She wonders how someone who has mastered the art of suppressing their feelings is braver than someone who has mastered the art of acknowledging their feelings.
The strength it takes to keep the closet door shut is immense.
However, it takes an unsurpassable amount of resilience to carry the world in her heart and soul while still having the courage to open her closet without being afraid of the things that could jump out at her.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
well that was lunch which
was preoccupied with such
thoughts of the typical poet
eg why does the world want
to cheat me..
what is the point and what
is for tea..my lover´ s eyes are
burnished fields´ of wheat
i thought of love
and lily..
a small blue bowl of vague
reminded of a broken heart
and since stopping smoking
marijuana has my art
suffered unnecessarily..
or is it better some clue
must tell the difference between
the placid and uncontolable rage
the compatability of lasagne and rice
the oxymoron..
the pollution of serviettes..
with our destructive urges
laced with inexplicable
flat cola and
creation..
not unlike hunting for
searching salt to will
made in our own likeness
cold soup to chips
to explain..
what is this thing called man
chapatti and jam..
we have to have to tell
we have to work
and then stack
to clear them..
begin again
the thoughts
of a typical
poet and soooo
end..
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 9:17 AM UTC
My generations at a hold up
Force fed lies by society
We're never gonna grow up
Preoccupied with what we need
We subconsciously become devoured by greed
Insecurity is at the bottom of consumption
"You need ____ to succeed"
We're the last of a dying breed
Materialistic makeup
Our genetics have mutated
We're no longer able to wake up
From the nightmare we've created
Identification has taken a new definition
You are what you posess
Unaware the latest trend is only repetition
Sheltered by our ignorant need
Progress is our main goal
Yet we're unsure of how to proceed
So instead we proclaim our need for change
While spending the last of our common sense
On a fee to enter this stage
Which acts as our cage
Locking us into society's game
It's the final act
Our last chance to fame
Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 9:53 PM UTC
What can we give you that isn't already yours? What can we offer that you don't already possess? You don't ask for slaughtered goats or lambs. You don't need them to survive; they are yours anyway. You don't need us to call attention to outward sacrifice, you would rather our sacrifice be quiet and internal. Sacrifice a little of our time and spend it with you. Sacrifice our desires, our bad habits and make good habits. Sacrifice our selfishness and be a little more selfless. But the most pleasing of all sacrifices to you, you say: is a sacrifice of praise. To give thanks and praise and to glorify your Holy Name. You assure us that if we do this, then when we are in need and call upon your name, you will be there for us.
Lord, so often, as humans we focus on what is on the outside but what matters most to you is what is on the inside. We are often so busy and preoccupied with by the world around us that we forget to stop or slow down and we miss what is most important in our lives. Lord help us sacrifice a little of our time to deepen and strengthen our friendship. Help us Lord to step back and open our eyes to what matters most in our lives: friends, family, and faith and to take time to be grateful for them and really cherish what precious short time we have together.
Open our hearts Lord and fill them with the love you had and gave for the whole world so that we might be less selfish and more selfless. In being more selfless there is less of my self and there is more of you. We were all created in God's image and likeness. God is selfless love. The more we are selfless the closer we are to God and the more clearly we reflect the image and likeness of Christ to the world and those in it. We were created to be selfless, but like Jesus we must take the time to be alone, give thanks and praise for all the blessings we have and to eat, drink and rest that we might have Strength for the Journey.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 6:34 PM UTC
At the start
A bright beginning,
A happy union
An ignited spark
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Clutching the doll
Happily
Going everywhere
Together
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Out the door
Around the house
And maybe to see your friend's
Pet mouse
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Together forever
Best little buds
Totally inseparable
Just like a shadow
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
The doll was there
Through all the sunshine
The doll was there
Through all the rain
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
It kept you company
Through the smiles
Laughing with
Your every mile
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
It kept you safe
Through all those nights
And kept those shadowy things
At bay
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
It dried your tears
Through all those times
A simple hug
Could heal that soul
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
It waited for you
Every day
Until you came back
Home
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Then something happened;
You grew up
The waiting became
Longer
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
The distance widened,
Left behind
But still it kept on
Waiting
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
You talked less
You played less
But still it looked on
Hopefully
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
The doll was stuck
In a timeless state
But you just kept on
Growing
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Soon, you no longer
Came to see
The doll; it was already
Fading
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Forgotten, neglected
In its dusty little corner
Reminiscing of the times
Together, spent
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Wishing you would
Come back round
To look, or just
To care
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
It kept on hoping
It kept believing
It kept the flame alive,
Burning
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
But everyday
It kept on dimming
The pure white fur
With dust, greying
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Time passes
Minutes, hours
Days.
Soon, it's been a year.
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
More time passes
Just like so,
Until you were
So fully grown
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Gone were the days
Of carefree playing
Gone were the days
Of chatting
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
The doll has faded
Right out
Your mind
You were most preoccupied
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Then suddenly
You remembered
Retraced your steps
And found the corner
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
You see the little doll
You've grown up with
A companion, confidant,
A friend.
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
You pick it up
But something's different
The flame inside
Has died
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Hollow eyes stare back
At you
Cold and frozen
Over
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
With a twinge
You placed it
Back onto
A wooden shelf
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Now with the
Closing of the door
The both of you
Were parted
*A little wolf
So pure, so bright
Loyal till
The very end*
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 10:44 AM UTC
I gotta say, you sure know how to pick 'em.
I know that by now, you realize that I'm the furthest thing from perfect but for some reason you still saw something in me that made you want to spend the rest of your life with me. And to that again I say, you sure know how to pick 'em.
There are few things i want you to know about me before you get too heavily involved. You see, I am a nurturer by nature. I am the caretaker to all and the kind heart that everyone turns to. So I apologize if some days I am lost under the weight of the world I put on my own shoulders by accepting the problems of those that asked and believe me, everybody asks. I'm sorry if this can crush me to the point where I disappear but all I ask is that you help me find my way back again. Because you are the lighthouse for my stormy mind.
Another thing is that I can ask too much. I can lose myself in the problems of my own design and the problems designed by others and sometimes I will fall apart and not know how to put the pieces back together again. So I'm sorry for asking too much but I hope that you will learn patience and knowing to pick up the pieces, but let me put them back together.
I am also one with what you'd call "flights of fancy." I may want to be a pastry chef one day and then a French teacher the other, I will go through weeks, and sometimes months, where I will be preoccupied with only one thing. Just know that no matter where my imagination takes me, where my interests may lead, I will always come home to you because being your wife is the one thing that I can never stop wanting to do.
I'm sure you've already noticed how passionate I can be when I care about something. I will scream, cry, and cheer with everything in my being for the things that I believe in. Please don't laugh too much when I start crying over the death of a character in a book series or start screaming at the tv because the people talking are just so stupid and wrong and they need to know that they're wrong so I'm going to tell them even though they can't hear me... Just let me be, but also know when to tell me that I'm just being crazy. Because I know that I'm crazy, sometimes I just need a second opinion.
On the topic of second opinions, oftentimes I value the words of others more than I value the words of myself. Know that with a few simple words you can even lift me up to the heavens or you can tear me down further than you ever knew was possible. My uncertainty in myself will always be a problem and so I apologize if I constantly ask if I did anything wrong or if I upset you because I'm terrified that someday I will and you will leave like all the rest. I just want you to hold me. Tell me you love me even if I don't believe you especially if I don't believe you.
Be the husband I hope you will be and I will be the wife that I know I can be. Because even if it's hard, even if you get sick of the sight of me, even if the words that I say bounces off of you like water on a hot surface, know that I mean every word of "I love you" and I meant what I said when I told you "I do."
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
I'm a spinster,
sick of seeing my
sisters treated as
flowers
picked and wilted.
Their petals
ripped and ragged.
In a cloudy vase --
the water needs changing,
but what's the point,
at this point?
She died when
you picked her --
cut from her roots,
She is lacking nutrition,
She can no longer absorb
the wind's wild sustenance.
She is too preoccupied
trying to survive,
under-appreciated,
and ill-cared for.
Soon,
when she is dry
brown,
brittle,
into the compost,
she goes.
Fertile,
rooting another
devastatingly
beautiful,
flower,
told to wait
for someone to
pick her.
But if you think
a flower is beautiful,
let her remain
with her sisters.
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 7:51 PM UTC
1. This is not the story of the sun and moon. I am selfish and afraid of getting hurt. I will trace your veins and swim in the galaxies of your heart, but will never be able to stay with you.
2. My head is always preoccupied with the thought “Will I still get into Heaven if I **** myself?” I neglect to believe in Heaven, or Hell. Yet, I’m always wondering if a special pardon will be made.
3. I will leave you. Either because of death, or self-loathing; you will be left.
4. I become too infatuated with the fictional characters that live inside my books. I will finish a book, then curl into a ball and cry; a piece of me now torn and lost forever.
5. I will want to do nothing more than lay in bed with you and listen to my old records. To explore your mind, to explore your body. I will want all of you.
6. I will love you too deeply. The love would be like drowning in a black body of water. It will be heart-stopping. Crushing. More passionate than a fire set to burn down an entire village.
7. My mental illness will scare you away. You must be able to hold me while I am breaking. You must be able to control me while I’m angry. You must be able to stop me from jumping off of that balcony right above you, and I don’t think you can do that.
8. You must be prepared to spend days at a time in my bed, in the most innocent of ways. You must be able to just be with me. No talking, just being.
9. I oh, so desperately want to please you. You will get too attached.
10. Lastly, I am a broken individual. You can’t fix me. I need you to help me. I need you to be there for me. When I’m sobbing, I need you. When I think of my sister, I need you. When I get kicked out, I need you. I need you. I need you always.
And you simply can’t handle it.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 5:50 PM UTC
It's so hard
seeing couples
In the summer
At the beach swimming
Sharing lunch
Making breakfast for each other
Driving anywhere
Doing anything
When I can't with you.
I spend days thinking of you
Without you and wanting you
Some days we have our moments
Spending limited hours at a time
Calling and talking to you for an hour
Only to have you preoccupied
Lonely. Conversation scattered
You have the chance to see me for a whole day
But you say next month maybe
You won't
Work is more important than me
You say it's not
Do you see me cry when I hang up
the phone?
"I'm just tired" I say.
It's just hard I think
to stay this superficial against what really tugs at me.
Maybe I'm just selfish
You say you can picture me with someone else spending days with him that I could have someone else. How could you say that? They aren't you,
I shiver.
I just want to be alone with you for a day.
It's hard like stone. When the tears pour. I can't think like this.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
You say one thing but don't follow through
Leaving me alone left to ponder and ask why
Did I do or say something that hurt you
I understand you are busy but I know you have time
My mind wonders is this fate
Is destiny revealing that this relationship is way overdue
Maybe we just need to escape for our own sake
See some place new where we both can share the view
Please I don't want this to be goodbye
We can run faraway and start with a fresh new slate
But for now I wait as you seem to be preoccupied in another lie
****** just look me in the eye and tell me it straight
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 5:39 AM UTC
Even when he walked through that door for the first time
The thought of engaging with him in any sort was a crime
Ultimately my first thought was
Now I understand why we never crossed paths
An aggressive, secluded, sexist male entity
However, preoccupied by my own judgement, he thought me to be pretty
And all of a sudden, that grotesque mortal molded into a handsome beast
Nurturing, loving, controversial but attentive the least
Gracefully and gradually I fell for his mediocre personality, Him
Oblivious and blinded by his own ****** of happiness, I, -
hypnotized by the fairy tale, did not see the photons of our love go dim.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
I am common.
seemingly feminine
but shoulders strong
as barbed-wire.
like a chicken I am
underdeveloped—my wings
weak and unable to
lift me into the air.
I am preoccupied
in self-identified war
with the 875 square foot
apartment and the pasta
that refuses to boil.
on my knees, I
crawl
reconciling rhyme
and reason for
suffering.
the world has gone awry,
I say to myself on an
afternoon bike ride
through wooded
pain, my face
a perfect plane for
scathing branches.
quick and easy blood
am I.
wretched and astonishing
is the rhetoric I
find in the hollow of
my rib.
I am common
but not so when
written by hand.
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 4:14 PM UTC
Krypton didn’t fit with anyone,
as it was the unfriendly one,
it never went beyond it’s limits
even if others did loose their limits.
It was from a forlorn world,
nobody cared to say a word,
to this enigma of another world;
no one wanted to share a word.
The nobles were always preoccupied
with their occupied shells,
they never hung out with the occupied,
nor the unoccupied.
Krypton was mistaken for kryptonite.
It wondered every night,
Why they accused it for the assassination?
it didn’t have the power of absorption.
Krypton had very few of it’s kind,
it didn’t know where they were aligned.
He held the hope of being able to be lined,
with the rest of it’s kind.
Poor Krypton, he was on the farthest
arena of the periodic table
it wished if it could turn the table,
so that it can at least act a bit feeble.
Experience taught this novice,
it calculated the calculations,
to traverse the long distance,
fear hindered the transmissions.
Krypton used to think without links
he was one of the stable nobles,
he wasn’t the one that wobbles
and, one of the table’s baubles.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 4:36 AM UTC
Today my long tall tulip fell
His pearl-pink bulb had dared to swell
But blushen hung now like a bell
His slim and slender stem once towering
Arced to earth with posture cowering
Burdened by his glory flowering
How quickly he had seemed to climb
To bask in sudden sunlit prime
The longest flower, the shortest time
His adolescent orb once closed
With youthful promise, then exposed
More beauty than we all supposed
And eager straight he stretched to see
The furtive squirrels’ revelry
And blue jays jostling high in tree
His handsome head became a hand
Outstretched to welcome wide and grand
We who’d pale beside him stand
But now his palm points to the ground
Where loyal subjects once were found
A fallen king with withering crown
I saw you flower – be sure of this
Your scented cheeks I bent to kiss
Nor did a day of beauty miss
Though brief your waxing and your wane
Your colours left the purest stain
That in my mind’s eye does remain
In all the world where flowers grow
We sallow souls rush to and fro
Preoccupied, we miss the show
But when we pause to smell the blooms
Held captive by arresting plumes
Forget the sundry that consumes
Thus precious harried minutes take
Our reverie to gaily break
I noticed you -- make no mistake
I studied you that rare of gift
You gave my care-worn spirit lift
Then cut its soaring hopes adrift
Today my long tall tulip fell
Surrendering to Nature’s knell
And left us where he deigned to dwell
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
Kimos, son of Menedoros, a young Greek-Italian,
devotes his life to amusing himself,
like most young men in Greater Greece
brought up in the lap of luxury.
But today, in spite of his nature,
he is preoccupied, dejected. Near the shore
he watched, deeply distressed, as they unload
ships with ***** taken from the Peloponnese.
G r e e k l o o t: b o o t y f r o m C o r i n t h.
Today certainly it is not right,
it is not possible for the young Greek-Italian
to want to amuse himself in any way.
3.5k
Is it just I who gets that anxious, squirming
Sensational feeling? Like creativity suppressed—
But by what? My faults? The fates? My own self
For I cannot convey how positively debilitating,
Paralyzing, transfixing—
I don’t want to live in subdued twilight,
Sedated by my own ideas of inabilities,
But who or what, or what in me
Can prevent even the faintest of hindrances
From annihilating the depth of my inspirational understanding…
I’m yet to discern any of the undetectable barriers
Or is it that—metaphysics?
So engrossed, preoccupied, wearied by what
The idea that there’s something
Anything at all, preventing the finesse
As here I cogitate
Dimensions past me...
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC
Ah the inevitability of it all
Made a cup of tea… teabag broke
toast… burnt it
milk in the cereal was off
shower water went cold
Couldn’t find my jeans…in the wash
Had to wear cords
Missed my train
Late for work
Boss NOT happy
Stella cancelled dinner said she had to work late
Charlie rang to see if I was going to the footy
He said Stella said she was going
When???????????? I asked
Just a minute ago he said
Ah the inevitability of it all
Missed my deadline I was preoccupied
Called and had it out with her
**** off she said
You can **** off too
Missed my train
Home late
Checked mail
Stella sent me a ticket to the footy….
A surprise she said
Ah the inevitability of it all
Married her on a Sunday
Had our first child on a Monday
Divorced on a Tuesday
There’s got to be a better way
Joined online dating scheme
Now I lie with panache
And she sure knows how to tease me
And please me…
Ah the inevitability of it all
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 12:43 PM UTC
The universe is suede and black pepper--
a subtle aroma like coffee in a cafe. It's accompanied by
clean laundry air-drying a few miles away. But when
preoccupied with dancing like a blur,
it smells like a drunk. Wine is spilled on the laundry.
A party consumes the land.
The seasoning is mixed into a soup that will never be eaten,
because everyone is too busy
enjoying themselves too much.
The universe's leather shoes are kicked to the wings.
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 9:58 PM UTC
It’s moments like this
Some obscure song playing on our google home
My brother, gazing off into the distance no doubt under the spell of some great philosophical inquiry,
Neglecting the spoon and it’s contents
Drip drip dripping
My mother in the corner, seemingly preoccupied, slender fingers probing what appears to be
Yet another bag
Of those chocolate covered toffee almonds
My father, ever the victor in competitive eating, up and roaming about
By the window one moment, at the couch the next
Gone like the wind, oh here he comes
Meanwhile I, face a great trial which I must overcome in order to greet my destiny
-stairs
At the top of which await
Dozens upon dozens of procrastinated
Assignments just calling to me
Stirring up within me a desire,
A ferocious flaming ambition,
To not move an inch
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 1:57 PM UTC
Our coats are almost the same
They keep us comfortable, colored
Safely there, yes?
Different zippers, different things
Holding each of us together
And similar but distinct
Colors, more red in mine and
Blue in yours, but
Our coats are almost the same
Pockets for thoughts you don't want to
Open until later
Hoods for hiding, sleeves for hiding
Insecurities
Mine has a hole, and as far as I know
Yours does not
Our coats are not the same
And that's good
Reservations at a fancy table in an
Alright restaurant play out our words
And the jackets remain on our chairs as we
Leave, preoccupied with conversation
May 12, 2011
May 12, 2011 at 5:34 PM UTC
Help
Needed and available
…If I search
Loved ones
In darkness
Placed by me
Expected to be…
…Decent
The outside
Different
Inside… blackness
Expectations pile high
But my shower
Saw my face
Once
Knowledge of the next word?.
Not surprised
Choking on
“the tip of your tongue”
Don’t have a place
In your mind,
Roommates?
Forgiveness
Although
Counted how many times
MY lips touched
Your pipe
Having deep conversations
Your sweet friend
Christina
And
My old friend
Death
Didn’t know
Preoccupied?.
True
Got your own ****
Handle
Cause I’m not
Losing order
Losing my way
Falling deeper
Into the rabbit holes
Breaking where
I’m broken
Broken Molecules
Nothing more
Than these words and tears
So who am I now?.
A pathetic week
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC
and i've been staying up too late
i'm too preoccupied to rest
i heard you want to try again
but i know there's nothing left
i've been picking at the scabs
of what was once my heart
i should of listened when you told me
it easiest to stop what you never start
the darkness gets beaten back
when your call lights up my phone
you want me to come out and talk
i just want to stay inside alone
and i hope i am strong enough to tell you on my own
that i'm sick of selfish games
all the ******** that you play
the promises you'll break tomorrow
of the lies you'll tell today
and sometimes i can still feel her
crawling beneath my skin
oh lord grant me the strength
please don't let her win.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
On my way home from work
I passed by a *****
In a tent-sized, plain orange t-shirt.
It was forever-stained
With fossilised fluids;
A chest cavity of spilt milk,
And subsequent tears.
A double-take took me
To the green and brown keratin
That dragged relentlessly over concrete.
His sloth paws were protesting
Every step of grey existence,
In the colourful expanse of new morning;
They were clawing the ground
And submitting to gravity.
He looked right on through me,
Through everyone and everything
As if part of a hologram
That was no happier, but at least
Apart. I re-count his limbs to ensure
Whether he is even human anymore.
I surmise: only partially.
He milks his palms whenever possible
To heal the cracks of wind exposure
And old substance abuse.
This was no doorstep lounger;
He was a stray cat with no freedom,
And only washed his hair when it rained.
Then, as I later adjust my mask
In the foggy bathroom mirror,
Mind preoccupied with dissertations,
Affectations and payment schedules,
I realise that it is I who has lost my humanity.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC