Details |
Tyler Rukstales Poem
73 years ago
A kid my age steps off a curb.
And, in the motion of falling, he believes he can reach heaven.
He has the thoughts of someone
with an inverted ribcage
And he’s sick on cigarette smoke and hypocrisy.
A kid my age, 73 years ago, calls me a pervert.
Through the thin veil of time and space
We lock eyes.
I say “I see you.”
He says “You’re sick.”
But that’s wrong and he knows it.
I am not the sick one.
He is the kid with the killing hat
And the giving hands
That despise the people he gives to.
He is the kid with filthy thoughts and phony smiles
Who sees the hollow spaces between his ribs
In the innocence of a child’s eyes.
And despite the filth beneath his tongue
And the alcohol stinging his throat
I cannot bring myself to
Feel anything for him
other than
Pity.
Copyright © Tyler Rukstales | Year Posted 2025
|
Details |
Tyler Rukstales Poem
There are Dogs barking at the tweakers
Throwing up in our garden.
Their merciless chains drag them
Clawing into the dirt
Digging into their frothing throats and I
Am happy for the tiles
For my two cold feet on the floor.
I am picking your tonsils
Out of my teeth
And spitting into the stream of
My feverish thoughts.
In the other room
I watch through the mirror
As my mother crawls into the comfort
Of her bad dreams.
And I
Am so very soft.
Or so she says.
Copyright © Tyler Rukstales | Year Posted 2025
|
Details |
Tyler Rukstales Poem
I was so small, looking up at you as I gripped your
hand tight.
My eyes like deep sea bioluminescence, yours like a
nebula.
Dead and anew.
You were starlight, the sun. Close enough to warm me,
but impossible to hold. To soothe.
The world was not meant for us
And yet, here we are.
Mismatched, misshapen, misbehaved.
We peer through the cracks and cut our fingers on the
edges.
And you, you said you would die young
Snuffed out so fast, in a moment of darkness.
I guess you got what you wanted, then.
I guess you wanted to leave this all behind.
Instead, you left me
Stuck with your spirit bursting in my chest.
I am engulfed in this absence, filled with seawater.
Head pounding to the beat of your heartache.
And the tree that watches over you
Stretches to see the sun.
And the dirt blankets you the way your mother
never could.
And I hope you found your place in the vast.
But, god, didn’t you ever look up?
Who could ever bear to leave this world?
Copyright © Tyler Rukstales | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Tyler Rukstales Poem
It’s funny, I don’t believe in heaven, but every time I pay homage to the dead I look towards the sky.
I hope I don’t end up there when I go,
I’d much rather be the dirt travelers tread on.
Copyright © Tyler Rukstales | Year Posted 2025
|