“Are you okay?”
No. My best friend of 13 weeks has refused to talk to me, refused to look at me, refused to watch me dance, refused to have any human contact with me and she’s interacting with everyone around her even a person she hates and she’s so much better at dancing now than she was when we were like twist ties and her mom read our texts about suicide and self harm and writing poetry and now her phone is gone for what has now been two weeks and she’s told other people about it except me and I’m scared for my life about what I’ve done and how I’m going to solve it and I hope she’s doing okay even though I’m not because I cant even watch her dance without shedding a single tear and I guess she’s better off without me because she’s improved a lot more than she ever would’ve when we were best friends and I’m now realizing no one knowing her feelings and her thoughts and plans of suicide was good for her because now she can’t talk to the one who knew everything and I’m now seeing that I’m the soil to every problem imaginable.
“Yeah, just stressed about my math grade.”
“It’s okay, it’s just a grade. Grades don’t define you.”
but she does.
They warn about the mess inside,
The clutter in my head,
The sheer accumulated grime
Where thoughts are left unmade.
I stress about some unpaid bills,
Then let the dust repose,
A muddy swamp of open tabs,
And piles of laundry clothes.
I thought about a sandwich crust
I dropped a week ago,
Still lingering in a dark abyss
Where no one dares to go.
A soil of half-remembered names,
And crumbs of useless facts,
Unswept, unscrubbed, unpolished thoughts,
And overdue tax acts.
So if you say my mind is foul,
You’ve hit the nail right squarely—
It hasn't seen a broom or mop,
And frankly, cleans up rarely.
You thought I meant a different dirty?
Get your head out of the gutter!
My brain is just a dusty room
Full of trash and clutter.
It’s All About Perspective
How would you feel,
If you went home today
To find a strange creature
Had entered your cave
While you were away?
You would you feel,
If you looked in your bed
To find sleeping there soundly
A wee human head?
Would you be angry?
Would you see red?
How would you feel,
If some golden-haired brat
Had gobbled your supper
And shattered the chair where you always sat?
What would you do?
How would you handle that?
How would you feel,
If the door to your cave
Had been kicked in by a kid
Who just could not behave?
Would you rumble and roar
Or just rant and rave?
No one would blame you,
If you got really mad
With a dimpled-faced terror who destroyed all that you had.
That’s how many would feel, but
Isn’t it sad
That no one had taught her
How not to be bad?
The tear upon her cheek he wished to wipe away
and yet, did not, it held, like glycerine, the candle glow
that lasted beyond the cheese, mediocre claret.
It did not flow as tears ought, from what he had said,
confessed; in defiance lay its beauty and its power
and yet neither knew nor, at this moment, cared.
He looked not into her eyes but at the tear
but she looked into his, for she already knew.
And the tear upon her cheek he wished to wipe away
glistened like a pearl earring in the fading light
echoing the gifts he gave, promises he made
refusing to flow, reflecting his silent stare.
Thank you for calling Your Destruction.
If you’re calling to bring forth your personal hell, press 1.
If you’re calling for emotional devastation, press 2.
If you’re calling to enact physical harm, press 3.
…Thank you. Your Destruction is now offering a summer sale.
If you are interested, please fill out the survey on Your Destruction website.
…Please hold…please hold…please hold…please hold on for as long as you can…
Please hold; the bringer of your doom will be with you in a moment…
Hello. It’s nice to hear from you again.
What can I do for you that will make you regret your life choices?
I see. Sorry to hear that. Would you like to include your friends and family?
I understand. Your Destruction will ensure that your life is utterly ruined once I’m done.
Have a nice day!
Shaking my head, back and forth
Will someone slap me, please
Over and over, again and again
Please. Slap some sense ... into me
Slap me. Slap me, pretty please
Slap, some more sense into me
Seriously, slap me silly
Slap me to my knees
Allow me to become a flower
Exposing me, at my darkest hour
Meanwhile, I moon the world
I am just a seed
Peace holds trouble at woman's subtle cheek:
Pale, inviting and warm enough to kiss
Attentively with regards, seeming freak.
Shielded close to her open lips, eyes seek
Patiently... so moment goes not amiss,
Peace holds trouble at woman's subtle cheek.
On top her chest's fountain lies tips so meek,
Choice could travel its miles without a hiss,
Attentively with regards, seeming freak.
Labelling tricks mouth could parade at streak,
Palm could turn on... over silent tigh's bliss,
Peace holds trouble at woman's subtle cheek.
How wet dragging lips put bed in shock, creak!
Out of baffling gestures... wish she resists,
Attentively with regards, seeming freak.
Reaching out on moment, desires bespeak...
To an endless but deep dreamland- abyss;
Peace holds trouble at woman's subtle cheek,
Attentively with regards, seeming freak.
My mother's hands are dove wings, gently caressing my cheek,
"My beautiful girl," she whispers, and her words peel off me like dead skin,
How dare she love this shell, this body that bears the burden of shadows?
How dare she kneel in my ruins, planting flowers where only thorns can grow?
I wish to open my ribs, to show her the nest of spiders inside,
"See? This is what you embrace," I'd say, as she looks with gentle eyes,
But she, with her unsettling tenderness, manages to see beyond the darkness,
She sees a field of daisies where I see only barren and cold earth.
In my heart, spiders weave tales of long ago, yet she hears only songs,
In my heart, shadows dance, but she sees only the light sneaking through the cracks,
Her hands, dove wings, wipe away my fear and pain in a ritual of rebirth,
She dares to love, and her love becomes the garden where I begin to grow again.
You sound like a fingernail
dragged over a blackboard.
Every word cast as blackmail
from a forked tongue in cheek.
Bathed in the vile, bile of diatribe,
masticated to be flung as dung expelled.
Your snarled words reek with
the dissonant cadence of discordance.
As your eyes flicker
from side to side with lies,
you look away, unable
to face me, eye to eye,
unmasked,
unshielded,
nakedly exposed,
in tune tonality,
truthful.
Only in time do I see it unwinding
Its like I’m searching for something I’m not finding
So cliche but Ive really I’ve been trying
And straight to my face you’ve been lying
I don’t believe you or really any words you speak
It’s okay I forgive you and I’ll try to turn the other cheek
She barks, "Turn your cheek!"
She leaves her handprint on it.
"And now the other!"
Preaching to the choir
one more like will do
Beating the last dying horse
postings stay as new
I’ll read yours if you’ll read mine
lined up in the queue
I’ll say yes if you agree
— who is kidding who
(The New Room: March, 2024)
A month without you
It hardly seems true
The days they just drag
Like some lingering flu
I miss all those chats
With the cheek and the charm
I wonder if, maybe
Would a call be no harm?
I reel myself in
No of course, that's not fair
Reminding I'm here
And you're way over there
Nonetheless, it's not pretty
This dark empty space
The void here inside
Well, it feels out of place
So a poem of solace
I thoughtfully muse
Where it's only cathartic
Unlikely to bruise
In the meantime I send
All the love I can muster
If you have a new friend
Just be sure you can trust her
I'm not bitter, just achey
So I'll sign off for now
I just hope that you're happy
And that one day, somehow
We can grab an oat latte
Catch-up on old times
Laugh like we used to
Punching out these odd rhymes
CV 25.1.24
In the evening hour, when silvery tears embroider your delicate cheek,
The celestial blue from the depth of your eyes, lost stars,
Gently rest upon the tender altar of love that binds us,
A fragile bridge suspended between the white peace of summer and the tumultuous heart of autumn.
We thirstily drink the mysterious elixir, a nectar not even the gods have dreamt of,
Plunging into the hesitant echo of a prelude to an unimaginable end,
Reflecting our lives like in a crystal within the murky and deep waters,
Slyly we nourish our beings, hurried to heal from the eternal hunger for love.
The night scatters stars across the firmament, shyly announcing the coming of dawn,
And somewhere, in this vast cosmic theater, I softly surrender in your arms,
A tableau of dreams, concluding my saga in the all-powerful love that envelops us.
I love the mornings
That is the best time to rise
The purest part of day.
I’m an early bird
No one else is awake yet
I smell my coffee
The quiet of mornings
Is when I'm most connected
A sacred time for me
I wake it’s still dark
I feel refreshed and ready
And kiss morning’s cheek
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