Sacrifices

I said poetry was my lifeblood and it very much still is
I said I give birth to poems, the only children I’ll ever have
I hung onto my own words-
And hung myself
I sacrificed myself for my children.

(November 6, 2022)

Consumption

I want it to rush with a flowingness

I don’t want to be scared

Of something I’m not even sure is real

But when I feel it it’s real

When I feel it it’s a cascade, it’s a tidal wave

I am taken,

I am drifted

I am drowned

I am drowning in the possibility of a future

Either way it hurts.

There’s danger in abundance

When you come from scarcity it feels threatening to know when your next loving will be.

I’m not sure I can love in a way that does not consume me.

Can anyone?

Would they want to?

(January 10, 2023)

Empty tombs

Bodies scattered around rooms

I thought I died when you left me.

I failed to take one breath,

Then another,

Then another

Isn’t it better to marry the earth?

Isn’t it better to surrender suffering?

I failed to take one step

Then another,

Then another

Isn’t it better to never know?

What would we have been

If your roots would’ve charged through me like veins, like a virus

Isn’t that what love is?

I turn to the toxic ones like a smoker with their fix

I cannot tell if my breath is becoming deeper or more shallow

Does it matter?

Does it matter, as long as the breath continues?

I’m not a champion

You were the athlete

I was the passerby,

Turned victim

You were the victim,

Turned perpetrator

The lines are so thin they bleed

The world is close to ending

Is as good a reason as any

To end mine

All paths lead to death

Is as good a point to make when you’re covered in shards of my heart

And I, still dancing with shadows

The visions blur and I wonder how many more breaths until the last breath

It doesn’t matter

I’m breathing,

In your mouth, my final organ beating

Do you hear the music?

Do you speak the language of living?

You must, with the delicate disaster you’ve made of me

The blood spatters like Rorschach plots

This one looks like murder,

And this one looks like love

Same eyes, disparate vision

Here lies my last decision.

(March 9, 2023)

Anyone

I’m smiling

I’m giddy

It could be anyone turning the corner

At this point it could be anyone

For a second, I forget

Who am I meeting?

The faces and names blur from the past and write a story of deflated nights

They started just like this

The smile, the glee, the little hop when you turn a corner fast so you can get to them sooner

Who are they?

What are you basing your excitement off of?

The story they told, not in words, but emojis

You’re adults, why are you communicating with little pictures?

Is that the best you can hope for?

You, a writer

You, a speaker

Them, someone who always seems to talk at the wrong times

You, shutting your mouth so you don’t seem too eager

You, playing the game

You hate games

Poker, chess, whatever game where the rules are simply meant to fuck with your head

Whatever game where genuineness is a loss

That’s what this is

You’re turning the corner

Who are you meeting?

Who are they meeting?

Certainly, not you

A lesser version

A bottled version

A coddled version

An “all I want is love please don’t leave me” version

They never love, and they always leave

You could’ve predicted it with your eyes closed

It doesn’t matter who it is

It’s the fact of anyone

At this point it could be anyone

At this point it could be anyone

Until one day,

The face changes and you remember

It’s this one

The others fall away

There’s no more dancing with the past

You’re solid in the present with their presence and you remain you

That’s what keeps them turning the corner

At this point it could be anyone

But one day it won’t be just anyone.

(August 22, 2023)

The pebble

Most of the days are the same

Every once in a while one feels different

The sunset colors are more vibrant

Every once in a while the day hits me in the chest like a bullet

What am I supposed to do when that happens?

Every once in a while

My life doesn’t feel like a painting

It’s like I’m breaking through

Some people live in places where an eruption can happen at any time

I feel no different, when

Nothing resembles each other but everything blends together like I am that painting

A rushed watercolor with colors scattered like pebbles in ponds

Every once in a while

I feel my heartbeat and it grounds me

After shocking me

After urging me to live like I’m alive rather than dying

I read the bell jar recently and Esther lost control skiing and flew like lightning through air

She broke her limbs just to feel something

I would rather break the silence with a dance, or a fateful song

I’ve lived long enough to know self harm keeps on hurting

Sometimes enduring the senseless monotony is better in the long term than violence

Because I don’t like to clean up my own messes

I don’t like to overdramatize the very real aspects of my existence that wait at every corner I turn

But they’re still there

I think every moment will turn into horror and I’ve lived on knife edges for years

But somehow I need to articulate the awareness in this body

Somehow I need to sense the life around me just so I can feel real

So I can feel a part of something

Moving is all I do but there’s no meaning

Because I’m not moving towards something I’m moving away from the vulnerability I need to have

When I’ve felt alone for 100 days I think turning inward will cause insanity

And there’s only one way to find out

I’m trying not to color the emptiness with despair because I know everything is born neutral

And I feel it’s my obligation to live in a way that doesn’t bring others to their knees

What happens when I’m gone?

What proof do I even have of being real?

In this place it’s all my work to do and I’m tired

I feel the colors becoming more saturated

But the light is fading

I need confirmation that what I’m seeing is real

I need the universe to reach out and grab my hand and tell me “you matter”

I need the wind to hit the side of my cheek at the right angle to inspire some sensation

I need my dormant spirit to turn and tingle

I need to waltz at sunset to the sound of nothing

And I need to be okay with there not being anything appealing before me

I need to accept, maybe even appreciate, the days that just hold my existence in their hands

Nothing more and nothing less

I need to learn that time is a construct and every second is both meager and meaningful

I need to find the cravings and the sensations within

So I can just enjoy what’s outside and not put pressure on it for my enlightenment

My goal is to hold my humanity high and maybe even something more, something magical, something undefined in this dim light in which my soul stirs

Maybe honoring how much of this poem is unspeakable

How much of my life has not been translated into poems

How much of my moments will never be shared or understood by others

How much my life resembles the pebble, trailing blue energy, flying not fighting, letting the guiding hand do the work.

(July 11, 2020)

Untethered

I’m starting to look more like my mother

And act less like her

I’m untethering the tether that ties us from birth

Birth means nothing

Death means everything

Untethered I become

My own entity I am not in her shadow

I am her shadow, her subconscious

The half of her spawn who refuses to endorse the sins written in blood

She lives in a deep dark abyss

I am the light she cannot face

Lies that tear a family apart:

Where have you been for ten years?

What drains your pockets?

Why do you always have another home to run to?

What are you running from?

She’s never at home

She builds tiny sand castles too close to the water purposefully

She self destructs,

And not only self

She destructs her tether

She reaches into the pit and pulls out my heart

I cannot imagine carrying a baby for nine months, then nine more, then slowly,

Day by day,

Year by year,

Dropping them.

Your lies sprouted from the ground like weeds

There were too many to conquer

I was wrong about the fatal one

It was the tether all along, itself an illusion

“Mother” is an empty promise

“Womb” is a hollow home

For all the time we spent shackled together in the beginning,

You could never tell that now

I’ve had strangers show me more warmth

I was trapped in your body and my escape was a revolution

You love control, I was uncontrollable

You love facades, I am the truth

You bury your secrets amongst the dead

I am your shadow self

You cannot face me because you cannot face what you’ve done

You’ve accepted another casualty for your ego’s war

There’s no war

You’re only fighting yourself

(June 2, 2023)

You were not deserving

You never ever deserved access to me

Giving you a glimpse of my innards was a mistake

I labored through the upstream to carry my dreams to you

You poured them back, and floated away

I will never lose my breath for someone as lost as you again

I mistook your delusion for direction

I mistook your desperation for decision

You can manipulate and twist and warp every small detail but you can never erase the truth

I would’ve never treated you as you treated me

I would’ve never been so irresponsible, so careless, so selfish, so greedy, so cruel

Intention doesn’t matter when the impact is splitting someone in half

You were never deserving of my energy

You deserved none of it, not an ounce

Not a shard of glass

Not a piece or pebble

You deserved absolutely nothing

You can’t even love yourself enough to treat others with respect

You’re lost and confused and dragged me into your chaos

I don’t know what story you will tell yourself

You’ll probably pity yourself and claim victimhood

You’ll probably act like this was out of your control

Some things just don’t work out

You’ll probably fail to acknowledge your role in your disaster of a life

The story you will tell will be lies held together by denial

The story I tell will be strands of understanding, and hope, and self reflection

The story I tell will not be of victimhood

Some people are lost and you can’t help it

Some people are lost and make their trauma your problem

A lot of people need healing and growth before involving anyone else in their process

A lot of people can’t even utter the words they need to release

I will never be one of those people

My words are my primary method of resolution

I will never keep my pain captive

I hope someone can learn from the stories I tell

I hope I can let go through this process of documenting and validating

The pain is real, the feelings are real

And so is the possibility of moving forward

Making you nothing but a memory.

The nefarious prevail

It’s enough to be sad

You don’t have to cry

It’s enough to be in pain

You don’t have to keel over, bend over, fall to the floor writhing and screaming

They should know what they’re doing to you is eating your insides

They shouldn’t need to see your flesh decay

But maybe that’s what they want

Society is a story of power ending up in the wrong hands

The hands around my neck are celebrated

The dagger in my back is adored

It’s enough to exist outside the margins

You don’t need to be exiled, disposed of, deleted from the records

Living is suffering

They should already hear our screams.

Grabbing hands

Sometimes, as I pass by a house that isn’t mine

I wonder what my life would be like if I had lived there

I wonder what moments these families share together

How many nights the dinner table is full versus empty

How many times the house is empty because they are in an exciting new place

How many mornings they hear “good morning” and how many evenings they hear “good night”

How many homecooked meals they enjoy

How kids get to be kids

How kids don’t have to cook and clean and care for themselves

How kids get to grow up in time like they are supposed to

How affection and communication are normal, and healthy

How conflict is addressed appropriately instead of resisted

How holiday decorations find their way up no matter what

How caring for one another is a common task where everyone shares responsibility

How they might even grab hands before a meal, maybe to pray

How I wouldn’t mind just so someone could touch me for a second and hold my hand

How many times I needed that and no one was here

How many times I literally leaned on my dog for support

How many times I cried on him and hugged him and felt him absorb my pain

How many nights I wished someone was here to watch the sunset

Not even, watch TV

Or watch each other

Or watch the time pass

And feel like nothing is lost

As I pass through my neighborhood all I want is something in these other houses

I know it’s in there

I know inside one of these houses with five cars and ten hands

There is an abundance of love

No one ever feels alone

These is love in the living room, the kitchen, the front porch, every room of the house

I witness it and my eyes beckon, I smile

I just want to be let in

I don’t want to take on life by myself anymore

I know I can do it alone

The point is I don’t want to

Everything is more fun with a partner

I can handle alone

I’ve done alone

I’ve aced it

I’m a pro

But I want to retire

I think “I wish I had a family”

I forget, I do

But they’re scattered, dispersed, disjointed, attending to other matters than my frail adult heart

I should’ve grown out of this years ago

But it’s only worse

Burns worse when you didn’t expect it to last so long

Stings when you’re the witness to every family’s fun every day but your own

Craving the simplest things, the littlest things, laughable and irrelevant to those who have them

Family meals and trips and plans

A home you don’t have to fabricate missions to escape

For fear of being swallowed whole

A family you can accept

Despite their separateness

I know how to be alone

All these years I’ve learned to survive but not to thrive

I’ve been alone enough times to grasp it

Now I reach for something more

I want my home to hold me like a net

I’d like to hover, but never drop

I’d like to float and fly above all the worries that plague me in the silence

I’d like to hear something other than other laughs, other cars, other bikes, other dogs

I applaud their fun

I applaud the love they’ve cultivated

From outside all I know is their chandelier

Or their ascending stairs

Their garage full of snacks and games

Their packed car for the weekend trip

Their boat, pulling out of the driveway

I sit in glee

I can only imagine how happy they are

Just having each other

And I wonder if I had that couch, those steps, that car, those bikes, that food coming out of the truck, those sprinklers to run through, that football to catch, that basketball net with people actually playing, that family crowded around for someone’s birthday, that excitement for something, anything, when it’s just a Sunday to us, cousins, family, extended family, someone bringing just what you need when you need it, hugs, kisses, laughs, grass, and sunsets

I wonder

With all of that what the difference is-

Whether I would be happier standing outside

Or on the inside, grabbing hands.

Flow

Sometimes I cry because I feel like I’m not doing enough

Sometimes I cry because I feel I’m doing too much

And I will never know what balance is

Which is ironic for a Libra

Nothing means anything unless you internalize it meaningfully

True learning is not just knowing better but doing better

And every day I strive to be the person people think I am

Maybe they don’t see all the broken shards of glass because I’m an expert at repairing fragile things

And maybe they don’t know the danger in getting close to sharpness because I’ve never been honest about the shattered edges

I hate the idea of being any one thing

It’s hard for me to put my finger on it or name it, or claim it, or choose something as my own

Maybe because deep down I’ll never be convinced anything is my own

I don’t want to be attached to attachment, or nonattachment

They say flow is the key to happiness

And that’s all I’m reaching for,

When I laugh,

When I dance,

When I break character, or who they think I am

All I want is authenticity without the guilt

I want listening ears without advice or judgment

I don’t want to save the best parts of me for poems.

But that’s what it’s starting to feel like

And maybe it’s my fault for not being truer sooner, or bluer

Maybe I should’ve let them know a long time ago my river runs deep

Maybe I feel like everything else is shallow

I just want something that feels as warm and comforting as my deepness

As my aloneness.

I struggle with continuity when every other body disrupts my motion

Swaying to one song, everything else sounds like hell

Maybe I need to learn to turn the sour into the sweet

Or accept it, not change it,

Like I want the world to do with me

I’m proud of my evolution, and I would never want someone to discount what I’ve been through and where I am by wanting something more

Maybe that’s what this has been about the whole time

Stopping the wanting

Stopping the craving

Living in my body, in my home, even in isolation, if isolation is what breeds joy

If it breeds focus and deep realization

No river can run through this concrete and these bricks and steel

I contemplate alone at home like I’ve always been

Do they need to know the somber beauty of this moment?

Sometimes things are better left undivided

If I even try to explain the essence to you it will be diluted

I just need to treasure what I have

In the sacred moments in between all the nothingness.

The air where nothing is missing.

This is where life blooms.