Category: mental health

vanishing

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I don’t want to be that girl
who gives everything
everything she has and hasn’t
over and over until
it’s years and years later
with everything dwindling
down to a few somethings
I don’t want to be that bird
who gives away her last somethings
somethings she has and hasn’t
every day and day until
it’s ages and ages later
with somethings scrambling
down to nothing
I don’t want to be that desperate soul
who even tries to give nothing
nothings she has and hasn’t
over and over until
she reaches forever and a day
with nothings trembling
down to anything
I don’t want to be that girl

fleeting

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by the time he pulled the bird
out of his pocket
its damp wings were the color
of melted butter
it was gasping, pecking ferociously
its canary spirit flapping away

after the time he pulled the canary
out of his pocket
the soldiers wept for
the absence of its sound
reason lacking, trying unavailingly
to keep any happiness from floating away

finite

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may God bless all the delicate
creatures that will hold your hand
in their impossibly strong grips
and shed glimmering tears
as you admit you’re afraid to
take your last breath
place their long sweet-smelling
manes over your eyes
so that your last thoughts
are of beauty before you die

guilty

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you can’t recognize that happiness
you wore twelve years ago
your eyes so full of stupid hope
before it hit you, before he hit you
now you have to force the
gold into your brown
darken that kohl to match your fading hair
listen to post’s “blame it on me”
invite that pervert in
to taste your dried up lipstick
make you look away to blush
and wait for the flames to hit

keep

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they pulled you out of the water
pale and grey
wind blowing on your blue dress
still clinging to your skin
your eyes stained with sadness
so mad to be saved
the cruel rope still embracing you
I ran to you and knelt
tears fell like stones
crushing my heart
each eager to remind me that
this love is not for the faint of heart

colère

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poor little baby, you bit your tongue

chewing on all that hatred.

was it horrible? did it cut your throat

when you swallowed it down?

did it try to climb its way back up, and

make you run to the bathroom to find

an empty stall?

poor little baby, you broke your finger

pointing it and flipping them the bird

that was carrying all that ill will.

did it break free and flee?

perhaps fly away somewhere quiet to

rest on a snow-capped tree or

a glowing, warm palm.

poor little baby, you failed the test.

lady with a gray face and blue hair

inexplicable

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I wonder if the freaks of the shattered

doors will get lost

now that the holes are fixed

I doubt they’ll cheer and clap

as we rid them of their destruction

but

I like the way the bright color

adorns the walls in this space

as I wonder how long your peaceful

calm will stay in this place

Man in a boat and poem about hope

this

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this beauty gots to even out the ugly 

the motion gots to keep you steady 

yet every day is just the same

left is right, this way is that way

the sun is square, the sky is brown 

your sad is mad, your up is down

the beauty gots to even out this ugly

this hope gots to get you ready 

 

 

friday

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the beach was littered with red that night

near the end of September

the sun was mourning the end of its reign

the fact that he’s so blazing here year-round

was little consolation

he gave himself a pity party

I just remained and enjoyed the constellations