Monthly Archives: August 2013

Knives in my Back

They look me in the eye and lie,

claim that their friendship is still there

when it’s already gone down the drain

and all I can see now

are all the ways we once were.

Now my attempts at contact

drift off like we’d never met,

collecting themselves in the past

where we burry our dead

beneath layers to fool ourselves

into believing

that even grass can grow

where bullshit lies

and all those years

were never meant to be anything

other than slight of hand handshakes.

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When You Do Somehing Right

There’s a broken bottle by the sidewalk

and it’s inviting me to clean.

The edges rage against my hands

like they wanted to be open,

like the blood in my veins

just needed a little air,

like it was feeling a little blue

and needed something

to make it blush.


In My Own Head

I’m too sensitive for this shit,

waiting for replies

leaves me feeling disposed,

feeling hated

like the world

actually owed me something

and all my friends

had nothing better to do,

but like so many other things,

this is just in my head,

just beyond my reach,

locked behind my eyes

and between my ears

where all these thoughts

trigger things that don’t even make sense.

All I am sometimes

is the person I’m trying to be,

this vessel of anger

hunting down the right excuses

and trying to see the light.


Happiness

I identify as nothing,

not due to these aspects of depression,

but rather this love of moving through identities,

the way my face might smile, or worse.

I just get lost in nomadic relationships

where the things that make me happy

might as well be rotating

like some wheel on a game show.


Only Between Stops

Her sunglasses are too big for her face,

like she was keeping her expression a secret

and while I try not to look

I still wonder what she looks like.

Someone tailgated by sadness

and sideswiped by sunlight.

Her body shimmers

with the shaking bus

until all that’s left is an empty blue seat

waiting for reincarnation.


Porn on Paper

Writing an erotic poem should be impossible.

Transcribing an action spoken only through intensity

in a language that exists

between the mind

and fingerprints.


Just a thought

Sometimes when I interact with friends I cant help but wonder why they’re different sometimes. Sometimes it seems like there’s something on their minds, I can see the change in their eyes when they look at me. I can hear it on the tip of their tongue with every word that gets switched out to be held back. If all you have is a headache, I’ve got some Tylenol. If all you need is to vent some frustrations, I’ve got empty ears. If you just need some solitude, my entire body can give it to you by leaving. But if there is something you want to say, or ask…don’t rely on body language to dance around topics that, at the very least, deserve articulation. Even the thoughts we have need air to breathe.