You said I was a galaxy,
But when I reached out I stopped short
Like stars were hiding up my sleeves
And I couldn’t feel them.
They’re scattered like unread mail
Discarded on the kitchen counter
And wedged between the fridge and wall,
Like wishes collecting dust
And visions I cannot stop repeating.
When I reach for them I fall apart
And each star falling is a supernova
Embracing a new life
With an immolation of the last.
It’s okay to say no
Not now
Not ever.
It’s okay to say wait
Give me time
Give me space.
It’s okay to stop
To take a break
To get some air.
It’s okay to breathe
Take a walk
Listen to the trees.
Just Breathe
Say No
Say Wait
Just Stop
Take Space.
Loneliness is a crowded mind
With no access tunnels,
Where words are shoveled
And piled into carts
But have nowhere to go.
Loneliness is an avalanche
Of everything you wish you could say
But never have enough time to
Or never feel safe to.
Loneliness is suffocating
So everyone else can breathe easier
Thinking maybe things are better
When you’re just quieter about it.
Loneliness is the realization
That it’s easier to go away
Than try to get someone to listen
Long enough for the weight to lessen.
Loneliness is the weight
Of living decades fighting yourself
Then trying to find yourself
In whatever pieces are left.
I like toothpaste on my cookies,
Because it takes away the guilt
Of anything sweet landing on my tongue.
The government is always slapping labels
Telling me that I cannot eat
Or cannot touch the things that I want.
On a completely unrelated note,
I’ve been in the emergency room
Five times this week.
I’m trying to find an excuse to leave
But the pudding is starting to taste
Like everything I’m missing.
I found your name in my fireplace
From letters you once wrote me
Paragraphs to rival Hamilton’s pen.
I curled up among the ashes
And breathed what was left of you in.
I’m looking in the kitchen
And all I’m finding are cupboards bare
Nothing but echoes in dust.
I close my eyes and feel,
I close my eyes and feel,
I close my mouth and feel.
I breathe…
A week has never felt so long.
When I was a little boy
My father told me
You will never be a doctor
Because you suck at science.
When I was 8 years old
I scraped my knees on expectations
That were never my own
And looked for home
In the smile of every stranger
That didn’t shout at me.
Every absence of a fist
Felt like a kiss
Until I learned that words
Carried their own poison.
I learned to build a home in books
To crawl into the worlds between letters
And drink them in until I could forget…
I cannot tell you of my childhood
Too many memories are like sand
I grab at smoke that settles
Like grains of time too swift.
I’d stop to smell the roses
But her hands were covered in that scent
And everytime I blink
I can’t erase her laughter from the pain.
Don’t ask me to feel at home
When walls have only ever kept me out
Kept me in cycles of forgetting
That life is actually living…
Instead of waiting for an end.
There is a chuckle in my chest
A warmth in my breast
A touch of lighting in my mouth
In my eyes there is fire
My throat contains a choir
Splitting notes, like hairs on my head.
My fingers contain flowers
Planting kisses all the hours
On keys of an ivory bed
And yet with lashes weeping
My heart, its song is sleeping
At the end of a dream where all have fled.
Everything feels on the brink of disaster
Like I’m constantly leaning back in a chair
And I’ve slipped
That split second shift
Before I’m heading towards the ground
Or miss a step running down the stairs.
Each sentence out of my mouth
Each thought in my head
Feel like when the knife slips
And you brace for contact.
It’s like the deer that jumps out in front of you
As you hit the brakes
Or when your foot sinks into a hornets’ nest
And the crunch and buzzing meet your ears.
It’s cacti growing out of your back
When you go to order food
Or remember what you wrote 3 months ago
And can’t get out of your head
It’s feeling like any moment
Life could come crumbling down from within
Just because the dishes from last night are still there.
That’s what anxiety is for me…
Home is where the mask can slip
The mouth can speak
And the tongue is loosed with love.
Home is where the heart can bleed
The soul is freed
And you never feel alone.
Home is where lungs breathe easy
Legs are no longer prone to fleeing
And eyes can close without danger.
Home is where you feel welcomed
Not as an unspoken burden
But as an equal, comrade, and friend.
Home is where you feel accepted
Where you look past petty differences
And hold close in welcoming arms.
Home is not counting favors
Not counting trips to the fridge
Not feeling guilty for existing…
Home is where I want to linger
Home is where I want to sing
Home is where I fall asleep in peace.
death comes in a whisper, not in the thunder
in the whoosh of their robes
with naught but wind on their heels
I cannot protest your lips
Too soft to touch
Too rough in speech to stay my hand.
I cannot protest your eyes
Too bright for evening stars
Too dark for midday prayers.
I cannot protest your fingers
Too empty to feel my wounds
Too full to fill my heart.
I cannot protest your mind
Too vast to travel this life
Too enclosed to stray at all.
I cannot protest your heart
Too joyful for the rich
Too mournful for the common man.
I cannot protest your tongue
Too lithe to control
Too clumsy now to teach.
I cannot protest your arms
Too tight to hold me dear
Too loose to let me free.
I cannot protest
I may not even try
I cannot protest
Until the day I die.
Moonlit Poetry 