Day 128 – Nature

It’s quiet among the trees
but the birds are acting strange;

though the grown-ups whisper
the children feel the truth;

they all know
that you’re not
coming back.

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Day 114 – Fruitfully

I cannot apologize for my childhood,
for I wasn’t always there.
In all these hundreds of days
I’ve never gone back.

The way we learn to be
is not
the way we’d ever choose

and so

I was
a wrecked flower
from the start.

I cannot apologize for the pathways
stealthily formed
in fragile matter
or the horrors I kept in
by spreading out

I only know for sure
that

the way we try to love
is not
a thing we can control

and so,

fruitfully or not,
I tried.

Day 104 – One of My Teeth Is Fake

one of my teeth is fake
what a secret to hold onto
when the delivery guy smiles
and when the boss is happy with me
or the boss is upset with me
and when my mirror gets lippy

they don’t know
but I know
a gold porcelain crown
is holding me down
and I don’t need
anything else

Day 45 – Welcome to the Junkyard

It only would’ve lasted
until I knew for sure-
fascination ended by
an answer, at last-
a thirst for the truth
to settle things
in their right place:

“What happened?”

The gears would turn,
try to paint it in different lights-
the liar, the troubled, the confused-
which mask would it come down to?
But I didn’t expect

the least interesting mask of all.
The least helpful, least true
this mask of spared feelings-
to dishonor with lies
for fear of the hurt.

“Was any of it real?
Was it always in my head?”

A half-truth implied for protection.
A flimsy excuse to keep using.

I placed no blame on the blameless heart,
but the mouth who said nothing
and kept eating, who kept
accepting gifts, so easily
erased…

You were just an open box
I couldn’t pack away
because I didn’t know what
to put in it.

No friend should ever lie
so effortlessly;
no one who needs
should use so much.
This, now
I know.

I put a flask
and a pack of cigarettes
and a mask-

Be well
and

welcome to the junkyard.

 

 

Day 37 – Bedtime Banter

“Honey why’s there sugar in the bed?”

“Prolly ’cause your bod is so sweet.”

“No for real, were you eating those Peeps in bed again?”

“Who would ever eat those cute little things?”

“Quit playin’ and tell the truth.”

“Fine, it’s from you ’cause you so salty.”

“…I’m gonna go eat hot Cheetos in your bed, brb”

“EXCUSE ME FOR SAVING YOU A SNACK”

*End scene*

 

Day 15 – Kings

What do you do
when you are small
and the world is unfair?

What do you do
when you can’t stand up,
can’t prove it,
can’t speak out,

but can’t keep on
the same way anymore?

What do you do
when you’re right
but no one cares?

What do you do
when they’ll laugh if you quit
but keep spitting if you carry on?

Do you turn to stone?
Do you just go mad?

Do you write a poem
and call it a day?

Are we all going to die
like this
either way?

Or are some of us
really
born kings?