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The Crumbs They Call Affection
I ask myself today what’s changed? Heart beating with the same ache, People I’ve loved so long can’t reciprocate, And I settled for crumbs they call affection Given all my attention, dealt with their rejection; I understand it was f—ked up, in retrospection. Today I tried to numb the pain again, day by day, But how long ‘til I no longer feel this way? Heaven knows I tried, from the Milky Way and back Years have passed, but I keep falling into the crack And it’s here I stay, unsure if it’s in my brain Or if the efforts’ been all in vain, And it’s just a no-destination train. My…
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Sleep — An Ode
Of all the things I could’ve wished for, I wished for one thing only: sleep. Not because the bags under my eyes, with every passing night, got darker, heavier, deeper. Not because the world around me slept and, so, it felt like the applicable thing to do. Not because Vogue and aestheticians demanded eight hours in order for my face to “glow.” Not because my autoimmunity begged me so. Not because my civilized brain understood sleeping benefits (I’ve been a caveman of some sort). Not because I cared about the awaiting beautiful sunrise or getting the worm. Not because I wanted it (though needed); the moon and the stars know…
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The day I die
Vague Poetic Lines
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Fetal is Home — a Poem
Be it the time of flowers Days of snow, When too much sunshine Darkens my glow Rain on my shoulders A punch in the gut Pulls my weight down My airways are shut No safe haven found in seasons No comfort for an aching soul My bed holds me in all positions But it knows fetal is home, I feel whole.
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One Lie at a Time
My closed eyes won’t let me see what’s right in front of me, but will navigate deep into the what-used-to-be. My attempt to drop the baggage as I make my way out of this black hole that seems to have no fin or starting point, has failed me every time, bringing me back to that dreaded point, starting back at one. Progress seems so slow; a step forward ends up being two steps backward. Still, no finish line in sight on this, the longest stride. And forget my cluttered mind — can find no solutions there. The fog inside is thick and thoughts are all in knots, words lose their…
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Homesick, Evidently
For my books, please go to Books Eight years ago, I was working and living in Spain, and at some point got really emo about the whole being away from home thing. I wrote this (which I re-posted with some edits) and it’s an honest feeling and reflection of that time. —— All settled in for the night, home alone. My clumsy raw lesson plan, all done. Green salad and scrambled eggs, the simplest recipe yet before bed. I look around, nothing special on my block already gone out for a long walk. Don’t feel like going out alone again even though nights are so lively in Spain A picture…
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Lessons Collected Gone Unlearned
No fall air was cool enough. No comfort found in words. Every little sound in the soulless night was a sinking hole. But their words… those words against the screen screamed like deep red blood. Seen by the blind, a voice heard by the deaf, mind read by the nescient. A nonexistent heart beat that could be found without a stethoscope. Disregard. Betrayal. Egotism. Use… All of the above. The kind of feeling no mortal should ever have to experience. How do I know? I’ve lived long enough. Rubbed all in your face when you’ve been nothing but kind, careful with your own words, hoping to kill not even a…
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Look Up! You’re Missing the Fun
In the sky a bird rejoiced. We say they sing for rain. One of those things you almost miss because you looked away. Always looking down, scrolling to no end, while in front of us a sublime scenery takes shape and form. I say to myself, let’s just walk; no music, no browsing, no talking, just walk. And without warning I find my face again buried in my phone. Repeatedly saying to self, “Look up! You’re missing the sun.” And the fun, and the beauty of the formation of silver clouds up above. So then I lift my head up high and briefly close my eyes to take it all; feel…
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The Art of Being Ignored
Faceless. Like time itself, endless. Walking away from trouble until again it finds me. Words evaporate in the air, talking is pointless. To be ignored once deserves no merit. To be ignored twice is a warning sign. Be ignored seven times and it’s time to retract, back up, analyze. Just what are you doing standing by? Denial is a defense mechanism, but you can’t nurture it your whole life. I would know better, but I get no help from my fight-or-flight. At some point in the darkness of life you must acknowledge the facts, your unwelcomeness was clear you just never woke up. And yet you’re still here but now…
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Life at Midnight
When the wind is breathless, the raindrops loud, and the trees swing from side to side; midnight The tender whisper of a loved one’s voice over a scary story at bedtime; midnight Through white curtains peek a speck of light, may be from a star, may be the tired street lamps; midnight A kiss feels softer against your skin and their touch, gentler on your thigh; midnight When thoughts are emotional and loud, begging to be unbound; midnight And the muse comes over and stays a while in spite of your heavy eyes; midnight Your silence, your joys, your sorrows, your moans; can all become homeless or find a home…
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Life’s Throes
Pretty face to please all the masses lower, middle, and upper classes But they can’t tell from outside my glasses if they’re wrinkles or just wet lashes I find it hard to say the words that trap themselves in my mind Secretly wondering behind the curtains Is it okay to hide behind these blinds? Twenty four hours are short I’d be calling it a day by midnight, a pretentious “alright” won’t solve going berserk during daylight Not just a pretty piece of nature for show, flowers need warmth and water to grow a little sunshine to glow and I, some time to process life’s throes.
