irregular

(1/2)

i feel like i am drowning but maybe that is just life

in the deepest ocean and on the longest road

i am sinking, i am running, i am reeling

 

why don’t they love me like i love them

i need them to hold me but they are not here

they never were and that is so like me

 

there is a woman who lives inside me

she says she loves me and her name is rose

i don’t know how to find her most of the time

but she suggests that I should be a little more kind

 

(2/2)

i always thought i was kind

i thought i was so many things

but lately, i think of me and i think of nothing

 

when i am like this

i don’t look people in the eye

i am afraid of what they might see

i am afraid they will see what i see

nothing

 

there is a certain beauty in sadness

at least there is something there to look at

something to hide behind

when you can’t hide behind a lie

 

two poems

#1

 ​london you got me thinkin

i already know ya

but you don't know me

and i don't know you

even though i see your people on the green

what does it really mean... anything?


 for all your parks

and all your roses

what do you have to show

but for your masses of gray

transporting, mowing through the jungle

concrete in the main

 

#2

There are no words coming

No words to fill that hole

They are gone like a skeleton

Crashing to the floor


 A bone crawls

See it in the darkness

It is the littlest of bones

A finger perhaps


 It crawls across the floor, skriitch-skraatch

Skriitch-skraatch

Trying to make purchase on the wood

Grasping for others, an answer, a word


 Skriiitch, it comes to a stop with one hollow tap

And then silence engulfs it, no words surround it

No words ever come, gone with the bones

A skeleton that just can't take form