Poetry (2015-2018)

- 8 mins
date unknown - untitled
O,
The crickets still chirp
Each and every night
And I confront my loneliness

Not the kind we usually think of
When we mention loneliness

I will try harder
Just to do the things that I forget
Until
Right now - I always remember their salience
Just at this one terrible moment
The crickets don't chirp they scream
date unknown - untitled 2
There are

Finally parents are parents no more
The care they offered often misplaced now I think
We can still be friends

Rosebuds grimace at the thought of
Only this sad bunch of clouds for a lifetime
They would like to migrate to and shape themselves

To

I've been taking steps up the stairs and feels like nothing feels like no one not sure where

Walking nowhere but what a paradox is distance traveled not enough
The party's over and there is new space

Used and worn, broken and rough from routines,
Treating it as a mad farm hand would a field
Thinking the crops are still in season

Every time I've graduated the weather has had this sickly attitude
10/05/15 - kite 3
Fallen there was a limb that had kept the intangibility of her eyes. It made little difference whether it rooted leaves. His heart had broken free and set the air alight. Without a glance, there laid a little fallacy, a deepened spot of solitude that helped him find his way. Indifferent to the tug of existence, he waited for a sleep. Swept into the child’s lungs that crept and flowed without sadness. Helping himself to a full hand, he caught a mass that clinged to his nails. Marrow shuttered and vains split. He pressed into the ground and ripped and fought the earth as a child would a cage. Sliding swiftly into the night rode a blue horse gilded in red cloaks. 
15/02/15 - untitled
In the deepest abyss of space, they fell, cast off by a soft hatred. New the steped, along the fallow earth, whispering as each crept upon its new skin. At night the darkness seethed through trees and around, the couple a withered young two. Lisented to a quiet moan as they left their impression deep within its core: Welcome she breathed, Too long has It been that this fungus has grown within me, I only ask that you crop and cultivate my land as if it yours.” Nodding they borrowed in the trees. Long after she has swum about the pull.
27/08/15 - metal jungle
playing with our colors we sat as
palindromes filled my mother’s porous limbs.
marching towards similes a smile cuts itself between us
, the plastic girl and me,
“don’t smile at me with your leather tongue wet ears your veins are empty i can tell we’re surrounded by you”
a figure of fear is impressed upon his brow by this comment
light screams reek through his teeth and a stain grows between like a purple moss walking towards the metal jungle in air that stings open eyes so outside we cry
the slovenly cloth draped around my wrist has begun to stare at me. I don’t know what it means, its as if the cacophony of digitalized laughter hadn’t already filled the stadium door of my room. we call it the human experience
07/12/15 - untitled
Uphill steps are made a little easier 
following the heavy stench of alcohol and cologne. But
there's lurid prose at both ends of the line
and nothing seems to keep in sync
longer than it takes us to notice the trick.
I would have tried a drunken night.
I would have slurred the glass roads across lips of a bottle
and shattered it on my teeth and
that night I would have breathed in my lonely wet filth,
the stuff that has soaked into my mattress
or peels from my nails
and clings to my shoes the next morning.
You wanted to cry? 
An excuse to relieve?
It might help to let go
with a drink to force it out 
to reconsider whatever it was i wrote
and this too, I bet. 
It’s silly, maybe naive or childish to write about fantasies 
when later we'll all strike ourselves
for the games we played temping experience
tarnished once we get busy with life
the chains which sag our checks 
the bubbling mold behind.
18/04/16 - mom
My mom dropped me off today
At the train stop
It reminded me of lower school
and how she would wait with me in the car
until the last moment
when the bell rang and we knew I had to leave
it smelled like her grilled cheese
and the campbells chicken noodle! Soup
the games of ‘horse’ we played
as I threw the ball
never facing the rim
mosquitos biting at our ankles
because our blood was tasty
she likes fountains and birds
swollen fingers
and half and half sweet tea
pouring the sugar and stirring the sea
warm bodies under covers

but now im dieing my hair white like im older now
if I spend enough time remembering the past
will I stop
26/05/16 - long ago
When Im bothered by the time thats left between
all of my heartaches tears and melodies, the memories that I keep
My voice’s a little dreary
To cast away the sleep
Ill whisper to my self
It’s all so necessary

Is it time to ask you now?
Why Ill laugh and scream about
Those levies to my breath
I don't think I can mount
08/07/16 - erin
We’re beginning to see the years waiting in line
Like a cold day taking a breath
Under gray sheets

Some of our friends have found trails off in the woods
While others stay close enough
We can still see them wave

Some have sparks under their nails
and a glowing touch left on our shoulder
when they comfort us

It’s evening now, I’m sure, and
I hope you’re still able to hear the insects outside
And the birds tomorrow morning
21/11/18 - magnolia
when i was your age
everybody seemed much wiser

in time i thought id be
feeling lighter

but we were all
playing games
and never thought
it would have to end

i would be chasing
‘til there’s nobody left

---

so here i am
walking down
the windy avenue

seeing old places and faces
that i once knew

though im asking
i never get an answer

to what they're supposed to mean

---

now the days
pass so slowly

although nothing
has really changed

folding my laundry
making some coffee
waking up from a daydream

but since when did it
become lonely?

---

lately ive been
spending my time inside

through the window
in the warmth
of the sunlight

and i know
i can count on it tomorrow

hopefully
thats where ill be


CHORUS:

waiting for a time that we can say is new
(in between, we’ll find something to do)
have I grown, or is there just more to lose
(in between, we’ll find something to do)
waiting for a time that we can say is new
(in between, we’ll find something to do)
have I grown, or is there just more to lose
24/11/18 - untitled
all goodness
and bright and bad
has slithered upon my tongue
making their bed in each cavity.
its not the usual pain
but the kind that spins like a water wheel.

I was sitting in my car
someone had asked if they could have my spot
i drove away
with my face wet from tears and the heat of my car.

right after,
I was winding though an explanation that felt
broken and thrown together
in the shape of my mom
- she told me anything was possible and it must be
but each potential is weighed down with the heavy chairs of time
and i’ve sat in so many

a necessary time that splits roads apart and separate from one another
in fact ive heard that soon walls will be built and eventually tunnels to surround
each of those paths
until air turns to dirt and visibility gone