When Death did play

I was at an airport lounge in Seattle

eating dusty warm leather,

A/C a cool shadow sighing…

When Death did play

I said goodbye to my

mother and brother once more,

they stood as I went an ocean away, not knowing I was afraid.

When Death did play

I rummaged through manic memories,

running to North pole for Christmas joy,

toys I hardly cared for, a bike stolen at my

trailer park, friends for sale

take them so I don’t have to tell them who

I am…

I rolled through fences, sheep 1, 2, 3, 4, etc..

pillows concrete, bed springy cardboard, sweat

till I drown, fan whooshing hurricanes,

asylum door 3156, 65? Codes known vanish,

death speaks, I panic, consume fast food in

daily sequences…

When Death did play

I was strung up by lift and jet fuel,

maniacal wings spread out to expanding

gases sighing to finite entities.

When Death did play

He spoke kindly to my

deteriorating gaze,

brown eyes blinking

now static, terror of

afterlife, regrets come up

glowing moss green, hollow

vapors taunting me,

cupid with full quiver

giggling, friends silent

watching my execution.

Some times

All I want to do

Is nothing

My head

hurts

My mind

Is empty

My heart

Is silent

My throat

Hurts

My eyes

Droop

My body

Won't sleep

My lungs

Won't breathe

My stomach

Hungers

My mouth

Won't eat

My tongue

Is tied

My lips

Are chapped

There's a lump

In my throat

My eyes

Won't cry

My mouth

Won't speak

My voice

Is so loud

In my head

A l o n e

My soul

Is screaming

Unheard

L o s t

Everything hurts

Nothing hurts

I can't breathe

I a m a m e s s

I a m s o t i r e d

Honey can't you look at me?

What color are my eyes?

Staring down at a plate is all you see

Won't even bless me with lies

Lover can't we chat?

I don't recall your voice

But graceful like a cat

Avoidance is your choice

Honey do you work?

You do, twelve hours, five days

Of course I knew that quirk

I wanted to hear what you'd say

Lover you lie next to me

Asleep and tired in bed

Our two rings won't let us be free

Until of us is dead

Sweetheart, darling, are you content?

Our routine the same each time

We pretend that we can't see it bent

Pretend that we're all fine.

when I think of hospitals

or delusion

or apple juice

in those little containers

I think of this little girl

five six at most

telling her father

she could see ghosts

only a thin

cloth barrier between us

overhearing

her father sobbing

please

he said

honey

there’s nothing there

I think of her

not listening

hallucinating

and wonder

how she is doing

if the ghosts

are still talking

A point where all things meet,

Except for me.

They said if I tried I would find a way to fit in.

I didn't.

But when I said that out loud, I wondered...

Would people think I meant I didn't fit in,

Or that I didn't try?

And would it really matter?

I mean, really.

If I didn't fit in, there wouldn't be anyone

To care that I did not,

Or would not,

Or could not...

As if parsing the exactitude even mattered.

A handful of bullets and I'm driving.

Can't be informed of my destination but I'm told how to get there.

I'm falling in,

burning out, sunken thin,

losing count;

days without ends.

Exhaustion's thin veil

deafening me to my choices,

the truth, the real;

and I've pushed all away.

It's dragged me down alone.

Company I'd blemish.

I'll take this on my own.

I have a handful of bullets,

and i'm driving

Can't be informed of my destination,

instructed where to go.

I'm tripping over rocks at the bottom. ,

can't foresee reality,

in front of me,

Ignoring what I know.

My hand full of bullets pointing;

the end is what they show.

I'm numb, dumb,nu...NO;

IM DONE

I go!

My handful of bullets knows.

And I'm driving.

I'm racing to the brink to force dividing.

Envisioning division,

subtracting myself from

my sadistic situation.

This affiliation will ultimately lead to my end.

Unless My hand

Unless i load

These bullets

12345

feeling alive

my hand is free

This handle is warm.

I can RUN

after

1more234

Ive tried

To release,

the trigger

to blow away these demons by which i'm run.

Have you ever noticed that the scars on a broken heart

look a lot like lightning?

Or that the sound of thunder vaguely resembles

the crash of your world falling down around you?

The way that rain seems to wash away all your tears?

And that you don’t know if you would be you

without the rain.

it's very hard to not feel sad

it's the medication

and the healthy patterns

that make me say

"but i'm doing well

but at least it's bearable"

the downward swing hurts

knowing there will be another one

the upward swing instills me with hope

there will be another one

nothing is permanent

this too will pass

and it will come back

grief at my door like an old friend

she pins me down

makes me stay with her

because if she's alone

what happens will be my fault

i don't know how to get rid of her

she's always been there

and maybe i love her

it's hard not to feel sad

Money was the good,

job was the obvious,

not the wor,d

to kill,

herself,

with only stone one, stone attached,

no pain.

Terrace was the meet,

strong drink condition mine.

Her smile, microscopic, the hidden lips cave only,

fallen leaves rustling helpless me walk them over.

Eyes of my hugging hand

on-seeing turned road,

whisper:

"Hug and push".

I did.

And run;

still running,

remembering her caress,

on my limb,

before-pushing,

wit caressed

hand

of

death.

First caress of mine.

Last kill of mine.

Gratitude is the pill we swallow

Keeps us sleepy and content

Keeps us from throwing eggs

This way! straight to the feedlot

Find your tax bracket, and stay

Pay no mind to what’s behind

the red tape. But do pay

for schools like corrals, hospitals

like abandoned slaughterhouses

No one wants to work anymore

You’ve heard it said. The only shortage

is attention span. Maybe

I’d get a job if it didn’t cost so much

to earn an income these days

Call me ungrateful. I’ll tell you what,

Return my taxes and I’ll return

all I've taken. Call me hypocrite

I too thought capitalism was the disease

I’m grateful I’ve learned long enough to see

Welfare tastes good to those invested in it

It’s cold turkey for the rest of us

#Poetry #Individualism #Gratitude

Photo by danilo.alvesd on Unsplash