Food doesn’t taste right.
Take a pill. Feeling mean. Take
A pill. Dark clouds hang
Over me. Take a pill.
This time I’ll feel better. I
Take a pill. I wait.
Pill
Category: Poetry
Cold Comfort
Your encouragement
Is Vaseline soaked gauze on
My sucking chest wound.
Hope Floats Away
You have to give up.
Hope is what is killing you.
It will never change.
It will always hurt
Like this. Nothing will improve it.
Release it and breathe.
Devolution
My skeleton will
Melt. I will make my home in
The nautilus shell.
Golden Boy
I identify
With former child stars, washed
Up. Anonymous,
Unaddicted, still
Am I a tarnished relic
Of former promise.
Shell
My face doesn’t work.
When my family sees me,
They worry, “what has
Happened?” Nothing. This
Is just who I am now. This
Shell is all I am.
Martyr’s Pyre
She keeps her martyr’s
Funeral pyre beneath
Our bed, ready to
Light and lay upon
It, devoured in flames like
She always wanted.
I recollect this,
Decide to keep my mouth shut.
The fire smolders.
The Shape in the Stone
Each day I chisel
The rough surface of this rock,
Trying to find the
Sculpture. I chip off
The words I don’t want to say,
“I don’t feel close to
You right now,” “I take
Pills to make life bearable,”
“If I could run, I
Would.” Another chip.
“I know you sense the dread in
Me, but haven’t the
Words to express it.”
“My best days are behind me.
They flew past while I
Was waiting for some
Validation that didn’t
Come. There is less of
Me each day.” I would
Rather die with these words not
Said, than hurt any
Of you. Alas am
I fated to wound you to
The core. Chip, chip, chip.
Neglect
You are so joyful
And I mean nothing to you.
I wither and die.
