Depression · Free Verse · Heartbreak · Love · Poem · Sex · Writing

Silence | Poems that Suck

Maybe I don't like the silence
 because it reminds me of an ex
  who used to disappear for days at
   a time, saying that the aliens had
    abducted him. 

Every time he'd reappear it was
 with some new girl, hanging off his
  dick - and I knew he'd slept with her
   so that he'd have a place to sleep, and 
     food to eat. 

I could never understand why
 he wouldn't come to me to ask
  for these things, knowing that 
   he'd never have to pay for them
    with sex. 

The last time he disappeared
 for months, turning up on the 
  opposite coast so that he could 
   "make it," but came back home with
     a pregnant fiancé.
Depression · Free Verse · Mental Health

Brittle | Poems that Suck

You were frail in body while I
 was delicate in mind, yet we curled
  around and underneath each other trying
   to provide comfort to one another - because
                                       that's
                                       what
                                       empaths
                                       do.

You held me as I fell to pieces
 in your hands, mind ridden and soul
  overflowing with trauma, pain and anxiety.
   You held on until I stopped crumbling - not
                                           healed,
                                           but
                                           stable, 
                                           enough.

Then I held you, in your emaciated
 brittleness, all edges and angles, as
  you allowed yourself the space to dissolve
   in my hands, slipping through my fingers - like
                                              water
                                              down
                                              a
                                              drain.

Somehow we held each other up, 
 held each other together, just barely. 
  Maybe that's what two people do for
   one another; the simple kindness of - offering
                                         safety,
                                         compassion, 
                                           and
                                         companionship
                                               as we try to
                                                  weather our way
                                                     through the shitstorm.
                                           
                                       
Free Verse · Love · Sex

Sexual Insomnia | Poems that Suck

I think about you late at night,

when I’m trying to fall asleep

which is counterproductive to

relaxation.

.

I think about me stripped

bare beneath you, legs spread

wide in eager welcome and you

inside.

.

There is a feeling of awe

each time you slide into me

and I look down the long length

of you

(to watch).

.

Yet, even though these images

make the vein in my neck throb

I still fall into a deep, peaceful

sleep.

Free Verse · Psalm · Spirituality

Beloved: A Poem for Palestine | Poems that Suck

This is the poem that won the Anita McAndrews Poetry Award

There’s a funny story behind this poem:


It was written in January of 2017 – 1 month after I returned from Palestine the first time. It is the product of a class assignment: I had to write a Psalm using non-traditional language and non-traditional versing. I was PISSED that I had to write this (if any of you know me, there’s two parts of the Bible I cannot stand – Psalms and anything Paul wrote). I put it off for a week, grumbling and bitching about having to do it. I was, additionally, experiencing a major depressive episode at the time and just didn’t have the energy to do it. So the night before it was due, I sat down and wrote this.


Funny how life works out, huh?

You can read it here or below:

Beloved:

You called me to the ends of the Earth,
the place where your breath sighs,
so that I might suffer to find
brotherhood.

I met you at every step, the ochre
Judean sands gritting between my
toes as I tried to match you;
heel to toe.

Your spirit whipping my hair, as
I traced the desolate crescendos
of the South Hebron Hills in the dying
winter light.

I have known the fragile weight of you,
destroyed, in my open arms as despair
swallowed me on the rocky shores of
the Kinneret.

Heard your voice transform from singing
in a sumptuous Arabi to the shrill scream
of terror as I stood, useless, on the rooftops:
Al-Khalil.

I have seen your face in its forms of hurt
and healing; bruised purple, smeared with
blood, swollen; the gift of a crazed soldier
or settler.

Smelled the acrid stench of burning wire,
choking me, stinging my eyes as I trudged
knee deep in filth to bring your children
to kindergarten.

Beloved:

You have called to where my heart throbs
thrice: Fal-a-steen -and I can’t ever hope
to rid myself of the land, the people, or
the life.

You invite me, now, to receive you in
the fruit of the vine, to fill myself
with your sacrifice so that I might match you
heel to toe.

Depression · Free Verse · Mental Health

Judas | Poems that Suck

I'm tired --
tired of being tired,
of feeling like my body
is held down by anchors sunk
to unfathomable depths, leaving me
struggling for air, for energy.

I'm tired --
of waking up to feel
like going back to sleep,
where my body is whole and 
full of life.

I'm tired --
of running interference
with exhaustion, and mitigating
it with so much coffee that my 
piss stinks of it.

I'm fucking tired --
the spirit is willing, is 
full of fire and passion, 
but this Judas of a body is weak.
Free Verse · Hope · Love

The Untraveled Path | Poems that Suck

I have a photo of a place I love, 
 took it before I even knew you existed;
  a pathway drenched in the golden, afternoon light
   which lead to a small cluster of fragrant orange trees. 

We stood at that very spot once, 
 many years later and took a photo together.
  It's long gone but I remember it; 
   you arms were wrapped around my hips

Holding me delicately, as if I were a treasure.
 I was turned slightly, curled in the warmth of 
  your shoulder, eyes closed as you kissed the
   side of my head, on the temple, so sweetly. 

Every time I look at that photo,
 I imagine us there - ghosts of love
  that never blossomed, but had always stayed
   sweet - and I smile at what could've been.