Better plan a quick
Funeral because you are
Fucking dead to me.
Door Slam
Tag: bad feelings
Deadened
It only hurts when I
Breathe, or hope, or believe
In something again.
How Well My Brother Knows Me
When you quit drinking,
Started running, and you were
Meditating for
Hours every day,
We just all thought you were gay
Or suicidal.
Pill
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.
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.
Golden Boy
I identify
With former child stars, washed
Up. Anonymous,
Unaddicted, still
Am I a tarnished relic
Of former promise.
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.
As the World Burns
Outside my window,
Raging destruction, I just
Can’t care about it.
