can’t

 

I can’t even enjoy the rain anymore.

I’m always pacing, reaching for the door. 

I can’t even savor my meals anymore.

I’m always eating while standing; 

hurriedly chewing and choking. 

I can’t even stand my showers anymore.

That water hurts my burgundy 

striped shoulders.

I can’t even stand to stand anymore.

The gorilla on my back just keeps 

getting older. 

I can’t even love my words anymore. 

They just sit here pretty like, 

as a constant reminder that 

I just can’t anymore.

 

 

 

past

rusty gate called me in

off that weed infested path

lined with the statues your aunt made

all those Raggedy Anns and Andys

with their red button stares and permanent smiles

creeping me out, but you loved them

 

open that rusty gate – hear its exclamations

wipe my hand on my thigh, watch the orange dust fly

walk barefooted on the gravel

feel the stones pierce my flesh but

my strong child self doesn’t cry

look to my left over the fence

see the lightning bugs emerge

pray one lands on me – it’ll give me luck 

 

walk into that darkened house

tiptoe around all the statues on the floor

look past their frozen happiness

sitting on the tables, waiting around the corner

stay brave with all their eyes on me

turn around and suddenly wish to leave

the house is just too eerie

 

run outside, ignore Raggedy Ann’s glare

close the rusty gate – hear its low moan

think, I’m too young to care

dash to play with those fleeting lights

and when you ask, “Did you have fun?”

I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you

walk past and embrace the fading sun

 

 

 

 

reflection

I dreamt I heard the floorboards creaking

hoped you might be home

but it was only the piano again

the pedals were moving on their own

my ghostly player knows the gravest arrangements

it plays with the most mournful tones

caressing the E’s, lingering over the G’s

hear its breath during the pause

makes me grow quiet, knows how to make me grieve

causes me to get lost in my thoughts

think about when you were home last

how I miss your face, miss our family

miss everything, miss the past

the pressing of the pedals

I just can’t stand it anymore

smelling the absence, feeling the regret

I cry for my gifted spirit to stop and go away

but it only nods and continues to play

 

 

mask

she is so perfectly agreeable

with her fading eyes and lost smile

they only see her bravery

looking past her hollow words, her slowing breaths

how she longs to not be so perfectly agreeable 

yearns to not care 

get lost in her own storm 

twirl, get tangled up with the wind

and prove you wrong

cause remember, you think she’s so strong

but if you listen, you’ll hear the subtle quake to her voice

the whispery sound of her words

she’s had lots of time to practice not being heard

cause it ends so badly, her being around

so she glides around the house

without making a sound

and she’s fed up, did you notice that?

she is so perfectly agreeable

as her antsy soul waits and waits to be born

but she wants to get lost like her smile and fading eyes

till she is no more 

gracefully, forcibly

yet unnoticeably slip away, but even in that

she would be so perfectly agreeable

delusions

 

Don’t give in to the weight of slumber closing in on your eyes.

Pulling your eyelids down quick as shades in the night.

For when you sleep, they scurry towards you with angry faces and jagged lips.

Running, screaming, crawling – these lost creatures.

Souls horrendously pining, hopelessly wanting.

Souls wasting away, missing loved ones, longing for their return.

Souls wanting total freedom, total peace, their ticket home.

They beg for forgiveness – these horrid creatures.  You can’t bear to listen.  Not tonight.

Right now, choose not to play their torrid games.  See them fly towards you, slam the

door only to witness their turmoil.

Their long cold fingers reaching, searching under your door.

Don’t give in to the weight of slumber closing in on your eyes.

For it is always you they want to fight.

defeated

broken

before she peels herself out of bed

counting the minutes before she’s back there

hears the chatter outside her head,

but she ignores it, sighs

looks out the window

wills herself out there…

to go wherever they’re going

wonder what his cigarette tastes like

wonder how that ink feels flush against the skin

blush, have to look away

wonder if that was a sin

 

surely she’s more than this

to just sit here, sit here and just exist

to take up this space

longing to have the laughter last

waiting for life to return to her face

she wishes herself to be anywhere,

any place else, away from this chaos

but alas, she remains, sighs

broken

before she peels herself out of bed

sliver of something

I was raised in a field of buttercups, milk dribbled down my chin. I knew no hunger and what evil belonged to men.

I’m running through the buttercups 

chasing the light

flitting around like those monarch  butterflies

we saw way back when 

 

I’m running through the buttercups 

blinded by their strength

upright, perfect

wipe their charm from my brow

 

I’ll rely on their light

to lift me up,

brighten my mood,

those lovely, compassionate buttercups

before

before

the numbness set in

she had a great deal to say

but that damn sadness crept in

sly little imp, it was

before

the crying spells set in

she had so many plans for the day

but that damn loss of hope crept in

clever little demon, it was

before

the emptiness set in

she used to pray and pray

but that damn nothingness crept in

cruel little devil, it was

and

she lost her words, lost her memory

so unfortunate,

she had so many beautiful memories

but that was

before