Mortal life we can't escape,
death is the eternal fate.

Every day's a feeling grave,
constant minutes we can't save.

Fill your life with joy and friends,
happiness that never ends.

Friends and foes with highs and lows,
feel the Earth beneath your toes.

Fate is one we can't escape,
but we can make the small things great.

Memento Mori.

the end is coming for me
i can feel it in my bones
hunting down the last of my will
like a predator and it’s prey

i see the signs everywhere i look
everything and all is wrong

so for my last act of strength

instead of being left behind
this time i’m the one leaving

hush—silence;

a regimented, simple production.
the clock makes sound, birds chirp, people are people all around— i see them, i am not of them, i let them pass through.

a car packed for a camping trip—the same trunk filled for the tenth time, most likely.

a certain focus—a gaze fixed somewhere in the distance between near sight and far,
a view undistorted, undistracted,
eyes conjuring hypnosis.
deadlines as games, percentages just a form of play, pressure nonexistent.
the order—a construction, all pretend, yet, more real than anything else.

momentum fuels momentum—
whole, and,

at peace for once,

mainly

Downhill spiral
Thoughts in mire roll
A mess
I confess
Obsess
Over the next
Is the ache
from a mistake?
Because I take?
or just the flu?
I’m missing you!
There’s no right
Submit? or fight?
Morning to night
Just wasting time
Asphyxiated mime
Broken rhyme
it all is wrong
an off-key song
Absence prolong
What this means?
splitting seams
Shattered dreams
it’s simple, plain
You’re on the brain
Through joy and pain
Time misses you
As I do, too

How do you come to hate,
The ones you loved?
You don't.
They tend to turn on you,
Either that,
Or they weren't real at all.
I forsake any shard of regret I had,
From leaving you,
I regret any feeling I had,
From loving you.
If anyone lost here,
It was you.
Because you'll fall back into emptiness,
Trying to replace it with people,
But I, I will not.
I'll continue to cradle my own light,
Which you came so close to taking.
I'm done sacrificing pieces of me,
In order to receive nothing.

I

She exits herself on the
Sofa. Blanket, dog, and bits
Of a poem on a pad of paper

On the table, like a half-eaten
Piece of homework.
Shades of wine on her sleeping

Lips. Exits herself; space-walks
Outside that frame of mind she's
Been expected to hang herself

On the wall within; she knows
There is more.
There has to be more.

II

She has to be more.
Like so many writers, she falls
Asleep working. Sometimes

Works to fall asleep.
Digging her way through
Herself, mining for words,

Hacking away at painful pasts,
Gathering emerald experiences.  
Diamond doubts and ruby

Regrets all fuel her poetry.
And she reads, spotlight kissed;  
Audience adored,

Goosebump summoning; hairs
On arms and necks stand up as
She whispers directly to me.

About me. Because of me.
In front of everybody.
To music, and I've brought a box

Of pins, and between each of her
Every word, I drop one. And I
Swear to the gods, you can hear

Them all. Like the unsteady
Ticking of a clock too cool to
Care.

III

Poetry jewelry; set with stones
From her innermost. Chips of
Gold from her heart melted

Down to a key pendant she
Holds in her hand; chain dangling,
Eyes closed, forehead resting

Against a door she knows it is
Time to open. Key in one hand,
Pen in the other,

She
Enters
Herself.

Once you see those true colors
Remember they dont have your heart
They dont care like you do
Making it easier to lower expectations
No longer accepting disrespect
Spoke firm got ignored
Gave it everything to be denied
The feeling of rejection fades
Looking for closure onto new chapters
Putting things first as a distraction
Making them seem important
The betrayal is unsettling refusing to lose
Seeking success else where feel free
Escape the bad onto good vibes

When I reach for free time
as an adult,
and quickly find it taken,

I remember that ambrosia
is only for the gods,
and mortals beware,

do not interfere
in anything
made for the gods.