You dont need people
To see your strength
To convince yourself
That you are strong.



You are.

the problem
with buying clothes
these days
is not knowing
if anything
will fit
properly
or even
suit you
until it arrives

instead
rather than
just return items
that i decide
i don't want
i hunt for
a loose thread
and pick at it;
first
with finger and nail
when that is not enough
next comes
a gnashing of teeth
and
if needs be
i am not above
brandishing scissor
or knife
to split the seam
gaping
wide
before complaining
that the item
is faulty

i am never proud
of myself
when i do it
there would be
no difficulty
in returning it
as unwanted
but
this way
i don't end up
paying postage
twice

i tried on
a new shirt
it fitted ok
not perfectly
by any means
but well enough
               for its price
it would be suitable
for the occasion
i suppose

it could perhaps
be a little longer
as it is liable
to ride up
and reveal my stomach
if i raise my arms
it's also
a little tight
across the chest
if i'm honest
and
now that I think about it
i'm not certain
it actually
suits me

i could just wear
one of my other shirts
that would probably
be more comfortable
and would
save spending
needlessly
there's the old blue one
after all;
i haven't worn that
for awhile

Michele Di Carlo became a freak show
the day he climbed up a tree
To his dismay, that rainy day, he fell
and broke his bone in three

Some say, it could have been worse
a deformity for the hard ******
but humbled now, with a wrist to hide
now that his fingers were all twisted

Yet, no shame is in the mangled
Michele dangled no pity in his pain
He learned to show it off in pride
though be crippled or he be lame

When shaking hands with most men
he smiles, offering a disfigured hand
His strength was in his frailty
a bashfully better and stronger man

For on the day of his funeral
photos reveal before he died
an array display of his freakish limb
his best pose by his side

Even then, Mr Carlo in his coffin
requested only one thing when laid to rest
that when they placed him in the ground
they’d lay his hand upon his chest

Don’t be ******* yourself   self
when you talk   talk
imagine what you would look like  like
if it were a walk   walk
you’ll be pacing back and forth   forth
tripping over of course   course
but only to get up   up
and you will get up   up  
because you can   can
you know how to repeat  Pete
if you’re as good as  as
your talk   talk
up on your feet   feet

Glass dome full Of sticks,
stones grown in a broken home.
Windows; mirrors cracked

Glass dome full Of sticks,
stones grown in a broken home.
Windows; mirrors cracked

If I was a friend to myself,
I'd tell me "come over"
and I'd lean out my shoulder.

If I was a friend to myself,
I'd have tissues in both hands
and I'd be kind and understand.

If I was a friend to myself,
I'd take my side for a change
and I'd create a safe haven
where my demons couldn't hang.

But I tell myself I am a failure
for getting so down,
comparisons fill my mind up with sound
I'd never be this tough on anyone else,
So why is it okay to spew
this endless hate to myself?

If I was a friend to myself,
I'd suggest we take a walk
and let the fresh air restore
what we had lost.

I feel flat. Dull.
My words come out chonky, generic, and lull.

Am I stuck in a block that doesn’t exist?
Non-existent limitations
Stifle my wrists

Maybe I just need to get going
To go anywhere at all
To work through the junk
That has my mind feeling
Like it’s stalled

Waiting for the next best thing
That I already have
To harness
And take that leap
Without the fear of a fall

Because all I can do is go up from here
Vibrate
Loud and tall.