Running on this hamster wheel,
the tongue starts to feel cold.

When will saying everything
we think
start feeling old?

We’d start our trek
to see the fire
flying in the sky.

The overwhelm encompassed
by the empty in our eyes.

We’d take it out on one another,
thinking this is wrong.
But maybe we just needed plans
for road trips that are long.

Blood filled ears between the trees,
gaze deep in canyons below.
This is meant for me as hand arises
once one asks
“Who’s first?”

Dauntless? Perhaps not my claim,
but not a jitter in the knee
when falling back and forgetting to question,
worry, think or ask.

This is meant for me,
but where might one find thrill like this
in Texas?

You’re not,
or perhaps you are.
The update has been rescheduled for years now -
the system is beyond laggy.
Inexpressible grief engulfs
my heart seeing how beautiful
the place is
you left me to be.

I’d write a poem
about how irritated my gums are,
but the pain is far too consistent
for me to be cute about it.
There’s a tiny man
living between my teeth,
hacking away at my gums,
and the wretched dentist made it worse.
So here I sit,
23 going on 57,
requesting a dentist appointment as I drink mules and watch men argue over solids and stripes,
unaware that a blue collar worker is making my gums throb.

My best friend loves God a lot,
and I guess I do, too,
but it’s been a while since we’ve spoken,
and I’m not sure if he thinks about me as much anymore.
Nobody thinks we’re friends because I’ve made some decisions that divvy from what I might’ve been born to do,
but maybe he’ll understand I’m not a marriage counselor,
and my existence was never going to keep my parents together.

The best thing you can do for an artist
is break their heart.
The creative thrive when grasping for life,
when they’ve shut out the world and all
that’s left is a pen and paper,
or ivory keys to be brutalized.
The worst thing for a creative
is to confuse good with bad,
and God with themselves -
to start controlling more than they bleed
onto the canvas as they hum into the air.

If you were to marry,
I’d sit in the crowd,
but not with others amongst the pews.

I’d stand far away -
in the grass with the bugs,
and ponder of me and you.

They’d crawl up my legs,
and I’d scratch at my thighs -
then squeeze gently like you used to do.

Wondering what could have been,
perhaps better if not -
something slick I once thought was glue.

Now you’re not my lover,
a kinship I feel,
but my heart is still beating in blue.

Besides knowing
Everything about me, good and ugly,
She knows how to make cement a feather.
That’s the most invaluable trait
I could hope for in someone I share my soul.
Everyday I hope to be as impactful on her.

I used to
watch short films,
and dream of creating gorgeous
scenes that made people feel
deeper than they’ve ever,
like when I’d medal in a solo
after weeks of crying over sheet music,
but then I felt deeper than I’d ever,
and my brush has since ran dry.
My past passions would likely
return to me with less effort than
it initially took to acquire them,
but I’m unsure if that’s what is
best or I should pivot
into something else.

And tear out a page!
Another! Another!
Some get caught on the binding
**** up the thread!
See the glue on the edges
This is healing my head

You took me by the hand and
Led me straight to your
Heart attack.
There were pages
Everywhere
And I could not tell the difference
Between what you loved and what
Destroyed you

I’ve designed some new rooms,
Since you’ve been gone.
The house has been expanded upon!
Beautiful drapes, and rugs oh so lush,
A chair that is vintage,
Stained glass that’s been blushed.
Relaxing and calm,
It is safe like a hug,
But your room still exists
And the lights always buzz.
The tunes are enough to mask it, some days.
But this homemaker knows it will be there to stay.

My heart is heavy,
Candles lit
For a reunion that will never come.
Where are you?
Who are you?
Does your smile still take up your whole face?
You left something
When you left.
There’s no lost and found
It seems you never noticed it was gone.
Perhaps you read the eulogy in solitude.
It’s being held onto with care,
Just in the event the wind blows a memory your way and the longing makes its way
From me
To you.
We’re under the same moon
And that is enough to soothe
Despite a lonesome tear finding its way
Into my ear tonight.

My goodbye has never entered the air.

Tight black dress
with red hair draped
on shoulders small but strong

I'm not ignorant
I'm just lost

Why would I drive
fifteen minutes
to secure the table
for 30
in a realm where
we could've won
so many more
and laughed over
many more lost
because at the end of the day
nobody actually cares who
is stripes or solids
just play when it's your
god ****** turn
and don't knock over
the quarters

fuzzy
silly
subtle numb,
a punch or ****
the same.
locked in on a face
but
on the side they call
your name!
look in that way and see a
group you've never
seen before,
but not a care, you
start your lonesome trek across the
floor.
some shoulder shakes
and footwork
you approach them in
your stride,
and now new faces
fill the yearbook
you keep deep inside

Chipped and wonky
donkey
Nails are grabbing on the cue.
You'd sink that **** if only
in your head it wasn't you.
Bounced off the wall then stipe then sink,
"Go, killer"
Slow you roll
'Cuz 8 ball next and if you miss
you'll blame it on your soul

I don’t know where you are. In life or in thought.

You carved me.
Not into the soft fabrics of stone, Michelangelo’s passion project,
but in the chest caving way that echos across years
and states
and moments I can’t trace, but still feel shaped by you.

There’s parts of you in most I meet, and everyone that knows me will know aspects of the you I once knew.

We never broke, and though wilted, the flower never died.
We unraveled. Quietly, circumstantially, slowly, in ways that never made sense out loud. A boat tethered in a still wake, just climate enough to disintegrate the fibers. A brisk breeze, never windy enough to cause national alert.

And that’s what’s made it so hard to let go.
No fight, no final draw. Just… silence.
Stillness in a room that once danced.
Swayed sacred memories under a Scotch taped mistletoe. My once eggnog grin boy.

I’ve looked for you in places I know you’d never be.
Cramped hands scribbling thoughts I won’t send.
I’ve read your words and heard them in the faint memory of your voice.
You told the history of us in stanzas.
I’ve carried the epilogue of us since, so you can hone in your next plot.

I think I’d want to ask nothing.
Just watch you breathe.
See what time has softened, and learn how Plan B became Option F.
Shake your hand, like we’re meeting again. Detention divvy in the cafeteria round two, yet not starting over, but seeing clearly as we’ve become.

I don’t expect that moment will ever come.
I needed this not for reply,
but release.

You were my first mirror.
My first awe into ache.
And I think, in a way, you’ll always be.
God ****** that wake.
It’s time for me to stop waiting cave-side for echoes. The occasional ping in my heart pager is plenty.

I hope you’re loved in the ways you couldn’t ask for yet, and all of those thoughts have found safe, understanding hands. Ones that mark color into your inked rib flowers on occasion, and the snake not remind you of me.

Perhaps if I understood more of those too-long-car-ride convos.
I’m shoulding on myself.

I hope laugh still covers your face, and your brows scrunch into your nose.
I hope you feel free, and the flight wasn’t stifled by a storm along the way.
I hope if you think of me, it’s with a faint yellow softness, not a sting.

It’s impossible to forget, but I must rid myself from the weight of remembering alone.
There’s no gym routine that fills the space, but watering cans to garden around the museum of us.

and here I sit
with letters writ
by people who get me.

a beautiful and unexpected
time for being seen.

for groups, I've steered away and hid -
the sense of self ran dry,
but brave, authentic, courageous fun;
characterizations that make me cry.

who knows why I did dig my head
so deeply in the sand,
when points between what is and could lies within my own two hands.

that silly little metaphor I've researched way too much,
just to come to realize it's been here, strange yet such.

full speed ahead, some slow and quick;
the balance is okay,
and knowing fullness comes through taking each thing
day by day.

A constant battle
of fight or flight
as a breath turns around
calming our panic
for just a brief moment
before it happens again

You were my Gray
Your eyes held blue,
Or brown - I don’t recall.
Much love and laughter dawns and dusks but sunshine’s deep of all

What’s behind your eyes has always brushed your lips
"People are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves.“
For you it’s mindful ‘tips.’
On what we agree I can say it is about that Juliet,
but I fear what’s to discover about your overall epithet

Little Lindsay lied a lot,
to anyone with ears.
Twisting, turning every thought -
she’d used others for years.
One day she thought she’d pull the wool
over a well trained eye;
forgetting all that would be felt,
through face or words can’t hide.

Up in the air, in blinding clouds, she’d wrinkle at the nose.
For her best mate, her trusted friend
had dried up at the hose.

Riddling lips, grasped one last time,
she tried hard to save face.
But little Lindsay played so poor,
embarrassing disgrace.

For could one trust another who could hate from the shadows?
You’d never know if love and care was being kept in tow.

Letters writ, with seeming guilt, though through those lines remained
the little lies of which every relation would be strained

Stepped into the page store today,
The rain is making my brain throb.
A stroller pass as I drop my keys,
A wet stain in my sweatpants.
Grabbed two books that many have read,
Will I ever? Perhaps not, yet I buy.
I ask for help to find what’s staring at me
From an upbeat older guy.
The second unread, but committing to the third;
Maybe this is where motivation will arise.
But as for now, I humbly pray, for the throbbing to exit my eyes.

"A gentle nudge,"
that made me cringe
and want to puke a bit.
Through lock and key, many walls with cracks,
we never speak of it.
But you saw light, and gravitated,
urging openness.
Fear choking, punching, caving, thrashed -
let's finally begin.

I will go back tomorrow to the place we knew
so well.
You’d squat in boots and skinny jeans
I’d glance, my heart would swell.
But now I have my sights set on some papers bound in glue.
It doesn’t hurt so bad today to reminisce of you.
I’ve figured what I’m looking for you never could provide -
Though what you once did long ago I wish will again be mine,
But from a mouth that doesn’t hold such sharp hostility.
For all I tried to do was the best of my abilities.
Not your fault, or mine, perhaps
That really is the truth.
A waitress follows to the door as you fled from the booth.
You introduced me to situations that didn’t hold my care,
It’s a new year and optimism is fragrant in my air.
I know it now, what it may mean to truly wish the best,
But here on out I know what’s safe to keep close to my chest.
Your morals slipped as did the mask and finger pointed wrong;
resentment beginning to blossom where I see it took so long
For me to understand that I was nothing but a kid,
Objectified as flowers, mothers, sunrises you could rid.
Arms wrapped tightly around myself, I whisper in her ear,
“You didn’t deserve that, baby. It will be better on from here.”

Cheekbones hot,
Tears shockingly cold,
Anger is consuming.
A disguise for the loneliness that is
Suffocating me.
Christmas Eve solidarity.
Exhausted doesn’t begin to define
What’s felt behind my sternum.
Screaming, fighting, running -
None of it works.
The bigger person never feels big.
I feel so, so small.

My eyes are blurry
Painful lump in my throat
You would never
But most wouldn’t I guess
Worse before
I feel more now
My cheeks are hot

Coolant pooling on the ground
A pinhole in my tank
If anyone is making tiers
Put Chevy in lower ranks

I invited you platonically.
And what I said was true.
I’m not in the business of asking others to do what they can’t do.
But I would not lie,
I’d try to find some chartable avenues;
Because as I touch myself in certain spots
The name I think is you.

Shaking hands struggling to
get him to his feet.
My heart pings painfully,
following the pull.
“May I help you?”
He agrees.
Reminded of my former days,
Grasping his soft, warm hand.
“I just need to get my feet under me.”
My heels slip on the ferry’s tile,
two others are urged to assist.
Wishing him well into the elevator,
my mind feels heavy until we dock.
Wondering who he used to be, and
how something so harsh can overtake a human

Through the clouds, above the fog,
the greatest mountain to witness.
Around and around, this enclosed pod,
it starts to rain - it would.
A few lonely tears kiss my cheeks,
I’m proud, and brave, and alone.

I recall sitting at that wooden table,
The grain memorized by my fingertips.
I took a bite of a fruit once ripe,
Yet no longer and I began to gag.
For decades, I’d slander this slender snack,
Giving anything but a chance;
Yet today, somewhere new,
Surrounded by berries,
It happened to be my favorite part.

Aware everyone experiences at
Different times, but there’s a clear
Divide between who has experienced the
Interpersonal turmoil of a loss that
Changes the fibers of your life and being,
Thoughtless others who will eventually see
I wasn’t sensitive or cold,
Only grieving a thing I wish they
Never had to understand, but will.

I want everyone to leave me the **** alone

An eye for a lie
He went blind

You launch your car through tunnels
with flashing rows of lights.
The bulbs maintain their static,
but the speed overwhelms your eyes.

She burnt a disk of songs for you,
the consideration makes you freeze.
Is this beginning of the end,
or are you being teased?

You follow in sprint, stars lighting the beach,
and engulf her in your hug.
She cranes her neck, and kisses deep -
**** me it felt like love.

You start your chain of lying here,
both aside her and to your kin.
Soon she’d learn
she’d never conquer
trusting you again.

My brain knows more
Than my body does
Which is unfavorable and makes me ignorant
To what feelings and emotions go together
But I somehow always wake up in time
To make it where I need to be
On very few hours of sleep
And that productivity
(The illusion of such, rather)
Keeps most afloat
As we drown

Someday mine might think of me
when times are good, not low.
I worry and wonder all the time,
for who or what, I'm no longer sure.
It feels as if I'm filled to the brim,
with all for others I wish for myself,
but I was never trained to self sustain,
or cause a ruckus while I wait.
Celebrating big and small, I bring flowers to the brunch.
I'll remain pretty, and patient,
generous and kind,
and wait for someone who has the capacity
for mine.

Unfathomable,
Committing to wed, before one is able to drive.
Reliant on each other,
complete disarray
if tragedy suddenly arrives.
And it will, you see,
your claim to fame being all you can ***** about.
Both parents have passed by 50,
before self care you'd choose to shout.
Though I can't say much,
I suppose as a single,
with admittedly much to lose.
I just find it sad
when two will settle
not knowing what's out there to choose.

I search for you in places that I know you’ll never be.
Assured the last thing you would want to find unprompted? Me.
Though I know that’s false, and love has ways of making far seem close,
And the beauty in the vastness makes me think of you the most.
Guaranteed your time is filled with goals both big and small.
I’m proud of you, although I’m sure that means the least of all.
Perception is a fickle thing, mine never sold to trust.
But the memories are palpable,
And on those? I’d bank or bust.

I’ve seen so many places,
Faces, held the far and wide.
Mass amounts of *******,
You’d never believe what I took in stride.
Though another lie, as you taught me to take things and show strong -
If only I’d determined what was right and could be wrong.
Yet here I sit, stationary at last, the hardest challenge to date.
Dissecting the most convoluted,
Acceptance no easy feat.

So I’ll allow myself the guilty pleasure
Of looking for your head,
In crowded rooms and maybe sometimes laying in my bed.