A Poem A Day (Day #19)

For a voice of reason

but not of rhyme,

and a song for heaven,

but not for time.

 

Because the gods stand apart

from the wretches they made

and so they will stand.

 

They leer and they jeer

as they stare down from

their thrice damned paradise;

their tears flow like rain

as they weep for the misfortune

of those who live apart

from Eden.

 

But they will never intervene.

 

Do you enjoy watching us mortals,

scratching our lives from the dirt

as we play your puny games

until our minds are twisted

and our limbs are sore?

 

Wretched gods.

Why would anyone

bother to believe?

A Poem A Day (Day #18)

Do you feel the way that the

atmosphere grows charged?

 

Suddenly-

it’s pressing down

and heavy,

sucking the air out of the room

until my vision blurs

and the floor spins.

 

Do you see a

barely

noticeable flinch

when you come rushing at me,

arms outstretched?

 

Do you feel the

stiffness of my

spine,

as you hug

and don’t let go?

 

Or do you only see

the smile I put on,

just for you.

 

Because somehow,

if I don’t like your hugs,

I’m a lesser friend.

 

If I respect your

preference,

will you finally respect

mine?

A Poem A Day (Day #17)

Does it ever feel worthless?

All this writing-

frantic scribbling on blank pages,

what’s it all for?

 

Every

writer wants

something from their work.

 

We want our writing

to mean something.

 

To be more than just

words scribbled on

blank pages.

 

A Poem A Day (Day #16)

I wish I could say,

‘You hurt me,’

without fear of retaliation.

 

It’s not going to make me feel any better,

(confessions rarely do)

but you need to be informed-

so perhaps,

to your future friends,

you will be kinder.

 

You say I’m holding grudges.

You say I’m just paranoid.

How is it that whenever I open my arms,

I’m ran through from behind

and while I lay dying,

(cold steel lodged through my heart)

you tell me,

‘Get up. You’re just overreacting.”

 

There is no absolvement here.

There is no peace.

We’re falling into disrepair

and I no longer have the energy

to keep our crumbling city together.

 

All hail Atlantis.

a dead land of

beautiful lies.

A Poem A Day (Day #15)

I’m sad,

but it feels like more than sad.

Perhaps less.

 

It feels

like a mess.

A bloody, glorious mess-

topside and inside out

or is it …

upside down and outside in?

 

Where is the STRUCTURE?!

Punctuation and stanzas fly.

Line breaks are

sudden

and sentences

Frag

ment

 

Because I’m sad.

My emotion knows no bounds.

It cannot be constrained

Restrained?

Consumed

by one pitiful little word.

A Poem A Day (Day #14)

It seems as though we all have this space

in our lives that we don’t touch.

 

We reach for it-

our hands stutter to a stop

(an anxious hover)

before we drop our hands

like we drop our eyes

when someone asks,

‘How’re you doing?’

 

A forced ‘I’m good’

bubbles out of our throats

while we twist our lips in some-

cruel facsimile

of a smile.

 

I know you

(oh lonely one)

who sneaks through crowds

unseen and unheard.

 

I know you,

ghosts of souls

who have yet to die.

 

I know you.

 

And our late night struggles

with the greatest of theories

fighting against the overwhelming-

tide of depression and anxiety,

the battle is not lost.

 

because I know you.

 

I know your sadness

I know your fear,

because I feel it too.

 

But I know-

you

will do great things

one way or another.

 

A Poem A Day (Day #13)

13 Reasons Why.

A tragic story

of a girl-

who died.

 

But somehow,

the most tragic part

was not her death,

nor the people

she left behind.

 

It was the-

recognition

that her honesty

could only prelude

an ending.

 

A final confession

we somehow are too afraid

to make.

 

Why is it that death-

(the ultimate ending,

the final bow,

the closing of the curtains)

allows us the truth

we have hidden from our eyes

for the entirety of our lives?

 

I wish to be honest

with those who hurt me

before death,

instead of biting my-

tongue.

 

A Poem A Day (Day #12)

She felt beautiful.

Sunlight danced along

her sea-green scales,

and long,

luxurious hair

cascaded down her back.

 

Her eyes held the-

remnants of a

tragic story.

 

When she sang it was-

beautiful.

My god, it was beautiful.

Her voice was husky with

the salt of the sea

and strained

by dying gasps.

 

She sings her tale,

but they hear only

what they want.

 

These men, they dive

overboard.

their ship slams against

rock.

 

These bastards who drowned her-

they threw her, struggling,

off of their ship

which somehow was more precious

than her life.

 

The sea heard her daughter.

Listening to her dying gasps,

the groaning of lungs

filling with seawater.

 

The sea took pity

and offered her

a choice.

 

The girl chose to live;

she has had her revenge.

 

Their dying gurgles

fade into the placating

expression of death,

and she is satisfied.

 

Thus is the

tale of the

siren.

A Poem A Day (Day #11)

Please, please, please-

get out of my head,

get out of my blood,

get out from under my skin.

 

I need you-

gone.

 

I can’t breathe.  

You’re wrapping yourself around my ribs

and pulling them tighter,

and tighter-

I hear them creaking.

 

Please

stop.  

 

The saddest part

about everything-

is that I let you

infect me.

 

Have you no qualms

about breaking

young girls’ hearts?

 

A Poem A Day (Day #10)

We stand here today to celebrate the life and times of Miss You-Should-Have-Seen-The Signs.

 

Will all the false mourners

please step forward

and wet her coffin with your delicate tears.

 

Go on,

smear your

meticulous makeup.

 

I stand with a hand on my heart,

as if the mere touch could hold it together

and prevent it from-

bursting with sorrow.

 

I knew her.

I held her as she cried,

sobs shaking her too thin shoulders,

and I stayed with her

in her mania – frantic movements –

that sent her running

and laughing

gleefully.

 

You were afraid.

 

Late nights were spent

facing the realization that I was-

more likely to see her

ashen and dead

than I was to see her

reach

twenty-one.

 

You disgust me.

 

Your delicate tears twist my stomach

as you sniffle lightly

and mutter amongst one another,

‘She looks so peaceful.’

 

How can you mourn

someone you

don’t even

know?