writer

Uncomfortably Numb

I am numb
yet I feel everything so powerfully
so deeply
that my bones ache
and my veins throb
and my head weighs down my fragile neck

I am numb
and I know not how much more I can take
how much more these shoulders can carry
and these hands can grasp
that have lived to see so many days
but have never felt alive

I constantly reopen old wounds
hoping that maybe they won’t hurt as much this time
hoping that maybe I really have moved on
but perhaps I’ll never “move on”
as much as become accustomed to it
too well acquainted with the cuts you
left on me
too familiar with this painful
instability
to ever let them fully heal

Seed of Hate

I have seen the likes of men like you, who walk here on the shore

I have seen the way you fan yourselves as you dance from door to door

And in spite of all the hate I muster in my heart so small

There is nothing I would rather do than crush the seed of all

I have seen the hearts you stomp on as you hold you heads up high

I have seen the flags you wave around as they billow in the night

And no matter how the anger flows inside me, I stand tall

There is nothing I would rather do than crush the seed of all

I have seen the captured souls of men who lay there still this night

I have seen the fellows bleed there in the cold and quiet light

And regardless of their injuries, I have done no wrong at all

There is nothing I would rather do than crush the seed of all

This is how I love you

I give my love to you
Through ragged puffs of breath
Through arching backs
And grasping hands
And shaking arms and legs

I give my love to you
Through moans of staggered breath
Through pouting lips
And clenching fists
And trickling drops of sweat

Sometimes

And sometimes it still hurts.
Sometimes I still feel the lingering sting of it all,
a memory long gone, slowly fading, but still within sight.
And sometimes I have nightmares about you
that give me shivers and cold sweats,
the image of your screaming face still imprinted in my mind.
But you were poison oak and my skin was much too fragile
to make it out unscathed.
And sometimes I can still feel the bruises you left behind,
jamming my fingers into them,
as they weep like tiny stab wounds.
And I am left here,
still trying to wipe your name from my tongue,
and oh how bitter it tastes.

I Will Never Stop Searching

My heart yearns for you
Aching with the solemnity
Of loneliness
As my fingers reach out to caress
Your soft frame
Yet all I can feel
Are the empty sheets
And dusty pillow
On the side of the bed
Where you used to lay
And I can’t help but wonder
If my hands will ever stop
Searching for you
But I have yet to discover
Whether that is either
A blessing or a
Curse

Scattered

Scattered
As if every thought
Every stream of consciousness
Is to no avail
And I know not who I am
I have only ever learned
To examine myself in pieces
Lost fragments of time and space
That do not quite match up anymore
But my puzzle is beyond scattered
So far lost and broken
That to start anew
Would be much more sensible
Than to search for myself
In the nooks and crannies
Of this mundane world
Straining to see
The distant pops of color
That might still be lingering
Somewhere within
The soiled depths of my mind

Still Standing

Don’t cry for me
I cry enough for myself every day
And the tears I shed
Burn like acid as they
Stream down my cheeks
But my heart still beats
And my lungs still breathe
And I am still standing

She

She is solid
an unmoving river that has coincidentally
washed all my sorrows away.
And if it were not for her
I don’t know if I would have
both my legs to stand on
or both my lungs to breathe
as they beat in my chest
reminding me that I am still alive.

And I’m alive.
That’s the miracle of it all
that reminds me to be grateful
everyday
when I get out of bed each morning.
I’m still here
with both my hands and my heart
and my sickly brain
And she is the only reason I breathe
she is the only obstacle.