thief

I will sell you my soul
but this will never move you

I am a thief
and self-centered

I cannot stop doing these things
rationalizing
taking
wanting

Last night you asked
for simple and uncomposed poetry
for it to flow raw from my tongue
I thought of liquid heat
and skin
and contact
but couldn't
tie words together
I'd forgotten all my knots
from days of studying and practice
my thoughts were suddenly
very stubborn
like a fist full of dirt,
longing to be freed
but only small grains escaping
not enough to let words take root
and begin something new

Return to myself

I am trying to return to myself
but in my way
stands a forest
of every tree I have ever climbed
or thought of climbing
and I regret now
that my dreams feel ever so small
wrapped tightly in eucalyptus leaves
and bound with a wisp
of dry wood smoke
warm-feeling like a memory

There is an organ
within my body
of soft sweet innocence
and with it
I have mourned the loss
of my childhood
I have longed to erase
the false truths I have told myself
I have tried to return to myself

The heavy mist of optimism
seems to have dissipated
but on days like today
there is just enough moisture in the air
to breathe deeply

keeping calm

I want to go outside
and sing silky ribbons
of melody that float in
through your window
on a warm night

Things have never been quite
the same since
we stopped dunking our heads
in buckets of distraction
and empty, frivolous joy
opened our eyes
despite the fear

Sometimes I felt better
alone in dark quiet
but I know my foot is inches
from that stagnant infectious pool
threatening to fall in

And I am good
at keeping calm
in the most inappropriate of times

O'o

Yesterday I listened
to the last recorded sounds
of a now-extinct bird
   first calling a mate
      then after a storm took her away
his lone call
and the space where her answer should have been
was so heavy
   O please, O please
   let me find her
   let me hear her voice
silence seemed to say
I've never perceived so much
from an empty moment
and I felt so much regret
for being a human
on this sad earth
that just never saw us coming

it's not so hard to smile

at a stranger

or a friend

to be infected briefly by joy

but they go on

and I feel a heavy

stillness

that weighs somber

and thick in silence

or cold darkness

some days

God

some days

god

what is wrong with me

and wouldn't your mother be proud

and is it so hard to be mildly happy

or at least somewhat neutral feeling

the thought of being around friends

or acquaintances

really sounds undesirable

and I know I would not want to talk or smile

and because of that I would make a bad impression

or maybe hurt someone's feelings

and I feel like a child

the one who was called moody

and was such a bother

you think a simple answer

wouldn't be an ordeal

and it smells like fucking burning rubber in here

and yeah why not feed into everything bad I feel

I can't lay in bed anymore watching Futurama

and I can't even have a beer with this stupid medicine

seriously is something burning

when I was 5

and I would crawl under my bed

and breathe softly

into the dark

cramped dusty space

until I fell asleep

it was nice

everything confined to that space

and nothing existed

outside of it for a moment

I felt safe and happy

and undisturbed

until I awoke to my mother

calling my name

I saw the light switched on

her feet on the carpet

I would wait until

she turned and walked away

to crawl out into the world again

My favorite word is no

no work tomorrow

no calculus ever

no sadness

no frustration

no running late

no being mean

no crying for no reason

no realizing you're out of shampoo when you're already in the shower

no regrets

no need for money

no dying

no falling to your knees in despair

no wrong size shoes too late to return

no dirty dishes

no forcing a smile

no hating strangers for no reason

no detached-feeling ache

no bad days

no bad days

no bad days

no bad days

GROW UP

hey i made a zine
send me your address if you want one