Recently, I recall…

Through Pain

I’ve a nostalgic sort of suffering,An ear infection, if I am to understand(or a slender blade piercing either side of my skull)Hot pads and an old dryer relieves the pain,But it’s the deafness that swallows me in helplessness,Waking up in the middle of the night in tears,Weeping at my pitiful helplessness,Weakness of my body wracked … Continue reading Through Pain

2am Denny’s, Backbooth

There’s something about 2am Denny’s,That I could never put to words,That could obliviate the worst of the night,And give you exactly what you deserve,Like hash browns and eggs to soak up regret,Or a patty melt devoured without reserve(that’ll get that taste out of your mouth),Or just something wholesome for your nerves,Like a cuppa, or maybe … Continue reading 2am Denny’s, Backbooth

4:44am, Monday

Breath on the window,Waiting to the last moment,It’s fucking cold out.

On Ghosts and Spirits

The last thing I’d want is to return,To be forced to continue this game,To be trapped in this limbo of life,Forced to repeat this cruel shame.I’d rather let go of it all,This miserable, endless tirade,Condemn myself to some rest,Sleep in the bottom of my grave.

Not a poem

This is no poem,It’s simply an idle thought:I think that I still miss you.

Thank you, Atticus

His hands worked slowly,Pulling up the dark covers,Tucking me in, safe. Even winter’s chill,Can do nothing in the face,Of a father’s love.

No Partnership Survives Fame

Once, we took our pens to cut our throats,Spill our blood onto the kitchen tile,So that we could write poetry with our toes,And allow us the chance to finally be free,That we might die die die to feel alive. But publicity makes all of us turncoats,And all those stupid posts’ve gone viral,As it starts isn’t … Continue reading No Partnership Survives Fame

Planted Fruit

Before he loved me,He loved another like me,And so another will come,With my eyes and mouth,To plant kisses on his frown,And eat the fruit of my work.

To Nowhere and Back

The engine turned over at last, proceeded by a hoarse round of cheers. The New Year had come and gone huddled in the back of the old Honda, a burbling hookah and a crushed pack of old cigarettes (Quit smoking or quit buying, eh?) our only source of warmth. Our passing savior and her oversized … Continue reading To Nowhere and Back

My Response

These hands have grown old,Having done nothing worthwhile,But write loveless poetry. My eyes grow weary,Having shed so many tears,You’re hardly worth the pity. My heart is heavy,Having borne so many hurts,It’s now a knot of old scars. Then rejoice, old friends,Winter is a time for rest,A brief relief from the pain.


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I certainly can’t make any promises that I’ll be here forever,
but at least you’ll know when I’m around.