Anyone can be someone for a short period of time

Don't punish me for what I feel.
Our routine may have ended with an unpleasant stroke.
But I promise, I'll climb over the fence
when the wires have been taken down.
I'll leap off my bed, when we've overcome our drowsy spell.
Maybe, when the rain steers our lips together once more, I can make it to you.
But for now, don't punish me for placing ellipses in the spaces between us.

It is usually best to avoid
crushing hopelessness, to swerve
and defer disaster, but even so
the world is well and truly ****** up.

Seek solutions to this conundrum.

Try to avoid curiosity, a pernicious
strain of insanity that conjures up
irrational fears of orangutangs
with meat cleavers, lethally ascetic
Tibetan monks, bathroom carpets
of abandoned razors or Big Macs
rife with E. Coli.

Avoid metaphysical musings that lead
to questions of coleslaw, vegan
water parks, the Team Quadraplegic
Gymnastics squad and the horrors
of the Hilary Clinton Naked Network.

Seek refuge in the present tense to
escape the interrogation of mirrors,
the crafted answer, dacryphilia,
remedial rage, landslides of therapy
and memorizing each month's horoscope.

Consider that mercy is on back order from God.
Remember the best lines of an unread book.
Nap on a battlefield; haggle over imaginary debts.
Set fire to the umbrellas of passing strangers.
Stop to watch the loudness and burn the recovered dead.

Call up new magic for a dying world.
Find beauty in the irradiated glow of burning cities.
Try not to bounce existential checks or notice
the crumbling of distant walls, ruined outhouses,
and the immense bleakness of forever and ever.

Take up training small rodents and lighting holy fires.
Ignore the broken stars, long dead and beyond grief.
Discover the pleasure in erasure, enjoy the biology
of strangeness. Walk many miles without a map
beneath innumerable ladders carefully detouring
around immense flocks of rabid cassowaries.
Throttle the recalcitrant blue sky's silent throat.

Listen to the melody of car wrecks and smashed guitars.
Abandon assumed corpses to dreams of endless cold.
Appreciate futures you cannot believe in but never visit them.
Learn to diagram sentences in Esperanto then speak with toads.
Ignore the slot machine odds against your deepest desires.
Hide beneath the ravenous trees from time's famished maw.
Seek sanctuary in toothy optimism and complete amnesia.

Follow these impossible instructions to the letter
and you will become non-valent, invisible, immune
and no longer notice the world is ****** up
beyond redemption. Go on, give it a try.

  ~mce

quietly in love with you for centuries.
fairytale like
feelings of living,
together,
forever.

my roommate likes to play dress up.
sometimes, she will look just like me;
other times, she looks like fragmented bits
of my worst weeks thrown together
in old calendars I've tried to lose.

you tell me this is a cry for help,
but "help" is a foreign word
that will always sound funny
coming from my lips.
keeping myself together
is a language I never learned to speak.

a merry-go-round of feeling bad
about feeling bad
about feeling bad.
I can't remember the opposite of sick.
my stomach is hurting
and my head is spinning
from all of these circles.

I've been avoiding my reflection
because I'm afraid she'll be disappointed
to see what I've made out of her.
I don't want to keep running from people
who once loved me.

In her eyes the world started off small and to her surprise
it was a sin to grow old
Age wasn't the purpose of her discovery, rather than the wisdom that came with no recovery
What once used to be a mind of many shades, began transcending to grey after she murdered her rose
colored glasses
Ashes to ashes, she is unable to express or remotely stress how horrifying the rest of the world is
Dust to dust, these forms of beings are resorting to feeding on trends that’s ultimately eating into a
dead end
We justify every reason no matter if it’s ****, slander, or treason- each person is free and
Now we wait for the inevitable
Equality for all- murderers just came from a broken home, a man that beats his wife was just feeling alone
Do you feel sympathetic? For lack of better words, the writer calls that pathetic
Innocence and ignorance is bliss, what you don’t know, you won’t miss
Here lies a society of fearful, sensitive ******
Who watch out for themselves, and call the rest hypocrites
What about that could you miss?
This was the last that the writer wrote, but before she ended her note
A red fingerprint placed gently in between quotes