a bundle

Alone for a while with myself.
My body feels like it is empty.
I’m too weak and fragile to go on.

I need someone to feed me and to push my hair back.
I’m looking for a love.
I’m looking for love and nurture to
come towards me in full force.
But maybe I just have to give
it to someone else
then I’ll be able to feel it
give it to feel it

I’m trying to figure out the world
but there is no key
just Bob Dylan singing out of key
about his lack of friends
and that at least he has his voice
and guitar. I get that at least I have my voice
within all of the changes
that I entangle myself in.

It all hurts.
I thought had been cured with CBD, but it all hurts.
I feel like branches
holding up a teal dress.
Or like a ghost
who does the same routine
a ghost with ocd walking the streets
looking for a ghost friend from the past.
What can fill this void.
Who can fill this void.
Maybe having a child.
But that would require someone to have one with.
That would require this
that There is so much it feels that I don’t have.
Or maybe I’m just not being grateful.
I have friendships. I have life.

I have an ego that has been wounded.
Specifically when he chose
everyone over me and had failed to tell me.
I had to dig the truth
and hurt myself.
I’m waiting for an apology
that’s not going to come.
I’m waiting for my love and all of the dogs
to come back to me.
I’m still grieving several almost deaths.

Blue skies and the everyday

Judy Garland say it with the spoken word country mouth which I never fail to hold artists I never fail to hold artist I walk these empty streets back and forth white walls I walk uphill I walk uphill with a hunchback holding things all the things I see my breath and look at my reflection while walking down the hill I sit and can see blocks from here with my glasses on the dog is barking the dog is barking

avoidance dance

We sat across from each other
or maybe I was standing
but ,
you,
were definitely sitting

with the heaviest feet
grounded on the floor
arms on the arm rests
as if to say this is my chair
and I’m not going anywhere

you get up and leave the room
after I look at you

and then the pattern repeats

we haven’t even met yet

Fan in the trees

June, is warm and lazy,
Ending in green,

So many potential lovers
Which I check off as taken
As soon I develop a crush.

The fall is too deep,
even though I have become an expert
At crawling out of the 1000 foot rock pit.
I’d rather not,
I’ll stay here…

On this ledge,
with my back faced away,
admiring the sunset.

My mind remains sane
by creating this imaginary boundary,
Fabricated complication,

I need all of the reasons
why it won’t work
All of the reasons
that it’s not meant to be,
Never happen,
Get over it.

I got a feeling

It’s a year from the valentine’s day
that I wrote a poem,
so it is only right,
to write,
despite the lack of change.

I am in my own world,
repeating the same,
heartbreaking scenes
of my life,
unwanted thoughts,
that continue to live,
sparked by a song,
or a look.

Last Valentine’s day,
and the one before that,
I trusted the eyes,
But at this very moment,
even making eye contact
is incredibly difficult.

I’m not sad,
oh god no
I am not
SAD,

It’s just a day,
a week,
or more like a year
of introspection.

Band practice

The tools are more expensive
than the end product,
most of the time.

What I will produce with these $60 worth of tools ,
will be laying around,
for only my mother to see.

Writing is free but
painting,
is a luxury.

When poems go nowhere,
like this one,
there is the opportunity to erase, delete,
cut and manipulate,

without a trace of a letter.

Painting is layered, mistakes and all.
What is and
what could have been.

Hidden to the eye,
but existent in the nature.

Bag lady

That sheet of metal that you have installed as a roof
isn’t preventing you from drowning.
The sun cannot reach you,
your head is dry,
preventing growth,
suffocating the sprout.

It’s October,
the month of the soul.
I can feel the change and introspection happen
within the melancholy earth colors.

This time last year I was almost in the same state of mind.
Wanting to grow,
but following a blueprint
of what others have found successful.
The true blueprint I should follow is
the one of the trees.
Let the baggage fall.