I weave these ribbons between the hollows of my bones, sewing together the frayed flesh that you stripped bare in my pursuit of you. Replace my heart with a Cuckoo clock, and my mind with a mocking bird, then maybe I'll sleep during these fitful nights of uncertainty.
Category: Depression
Safe Harbor | Poems that Suck
You came to me,
pockets overflowing with
tamarind pods,
ripe figs,
celery root
and
prickly pears,
bravely holding me
for thirty seconds
"because that's how
long it takes for the
endorphins to be released."
No one's held me
that long before,
and I could've fell
to pieces in your arms
because you felt so safe.
Blue – Green Hair | Poems that Suck
It turns the bathwater chemical blue reminding me of the Mediterranean and better days. Of absorbing Vitamin D through my skin as a beautiful man begged to worship at the temple of my body. Where I felt alive being carried on the waves which rolled like a skilled lover's hips. This fiberglass tub is a cheap, lifeless imitation of that Middling Sea; The blue stain ringing the basin a reminder of that.
Drum| Poems that Suck
I feel hollow - skin tight like a drum - bouncing my fingers upon my chest to hear the echo of my heart.
What It Is | Poems that Suck
The darkness slipped inside me
at the end of a knotted winter scarf
slung over the dilapidated door of a
hotel room.
There swung the jerking feet of my
hopes for faith, love, brotherhood and
a well adjusted childhood.
It took me decades to understand
that you can't change the shifting
hands of Fate, much less the accidental
slip of the foot.
Rolex | Poems that Suck
The sky is grey, pressing down on me, always pressing down into that hollow cavity where my heart should be. The muscle and sinew still there, of course, useful only to keep time. It does that well, at least, better than a Rolex.
X Marks the Spot | Poems that Suck
The worst part
is
when I lie in bed
at night,
and I have to stop myself
from thinking about
a (our)
future.
I catch myself,
then
cross my wrists
over my chest,
like a corpse,
to
protect
my
heart.
Void | Poems that Suck
There's a void at the center of my being.
I don't mean my heart.
I mean a pillar, as if God drilled out the
core of me,
Some glorified test tube surrounded by flesh.
It's not comfortable,
But I admit it's a good place to store baggage.
The Weight of Words | Poems that Suck
I take this dilapidated notebook
everywhere, even the bathtub.
I like to let the hot water open
my pores, my mind, my heart.
Between the furious scribbling
I set it on my chest, waiting
for the next verse.
The weight of my words presses
me deep into the basin, the
gravity of 10,000 nights, and
I'm thankful the water is shallow,
so I don't succumb to the burden.
Episode | Poems that Suck
Time crawls during an episode, the days and nights extending before you; a vanishing horizon. You begin to take notice of little things; the exact rhythm of your heart, the way a water droplet holds light. But mostly I sit in the stillness of apathy, stagnate as everything around me grows and changes while I molder. It's happened enough times for me to know that it's all a matter of time before it passes. So I sit, and smoke, and drink black coffee and wait until the light returns.
