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.
Tag: family
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.
Sisyphus
I want you to see
How hard I’m working and give
Me deference and
Patience and grace. You
Take the opportunity
To project feelings
Of judgment, disgust
Onto me. But still must I
Labor, strive alone.
Brothers
I trigger you and
You trigger me. We compete
And re-enact our
Parent’s drama. You
Are jealous of me, lash out.
I am stung, speak true
Vitriol, withdraw,
To rehearse the battle, time
And again. I swear
To never speak to
You, but crave your amusement
At my wit. I want
You to accept me,
But you can’t, because I am
What you are not. I
Am wise in ways that
You can’t be, and diminish
You by my presence.
We are not equals.
I am better. And so when
I offer you my
Warm embrace, you spurn
It, and power trip with your
Dubious stolen
Authority. I
Want you only to act like
A person, but you
Can only bully
And escalate. I withdraw,
Seek to shame you with
My silence. I make
Myself bigger and stronger
And louder and more
Proficient, useful
By the world’s standards, but
To no avail, still
You reject me. I
Cannot be other than what
I am. I am wise,
Articulate, well
Loved. A good brother would cheer
Me, not feel upstaged.
This becomes dusty
Death, another loss for me
To grieve, you won’t pull
Me down with you. I
Am alive and free and light.
A star, I must shine.
Better
Can you do better?
What it would cost me, how could
I justify that?
Live with myself when
I’ve caused so much pain to those
I love the most? But
Must I choose between
Expressing my truth, being
My authentic self,
And watching my kids
Raised by someone else? Tension
Is killing me slow.
Make Good Art
Don’t put your evil
On him, he’s my Dad and he’s
Suffered plenty for
Inequity. Take
The guilt, shame, and pain you bear
Make beautiful art.
Irresistible
Her devilish grin,
Lusty eyes, tighten my pants,
She takes me to bed.
The Invisibles
The ones who know me like no one else.
The ones who know my worth.
The ones who have my back
The ones who will not quit until all are redeemed.
The ones to help me free the G-d from the machine.
The ones who are like me.
The ones whose powers and abilities are beyond mine, and can shepherd me.
The ones who set this plan in motion long ago, and know that love wins out.
German Angels
Walking, a young man
Told me about his strange quest
For the lost German
Angels. I replied
In the keine Deutsche I
Knew, and then was I
Met by his maiden
Sister, who wanted to thank
Me for my kindness
And also to bear
My children. I made plans to
See her the next day,
Conscious that I had
Forgotten to wear my ring.
When I came to the
Dinner, the maiden
And her sister were there, and both
Had young daughters. They
Now were vying with
Me to see for which I would
Become their new Dad.
