Chemicals

Unbalanced
I walk down the steps
and smell all of your
chemicals.
I want a taste.

Unraveled
I walk up the path
and think of all of my
chemicals –
mine to displace.

Untouched
I hover, tracing the flesh
that begs to be pure again –
the chemicals –
seep and surface.

Uncompromising
I smother the feelings.
It’s my turn to be
chemical.
Your toxic waste.

Photo: B.R.S.

Traces

Splitting and running
a thick, cold, restorative path –
Lead me out of here.
Twist and turn and fall
and drip to remind me of even your abandonment.

Solidify and then crack
for me to pick and peel away
like a child
Become a stubborn stain
so I realize the fun has ended
and it all begins again.

Grazing, scratching, seeing
you is all I need
to feel them –
the itchy, dirty, secrets –
showcased unfairly
and so stupidly plain.

Stop loving them so.

Migraine.

Your timing, forever,
inconveniently painful
Your lighting, fueled
by your 90 proof breath.

It goes away
And I always remember it
as tolerable –
mended by sleep
until it comes back.

Like a migraine
that I invited inside my stupid fucking skull.

Instincts.

All I’ve learned
while living to survive
has left me cold
and difficult to revive.
The tools I’ve been given
are now simply weapons
to cut down the unknowing –
but they’re my only possessions.
I want to live precisely –
to fit in with those I see.
I want to play nicely
and to let goodness be
but every time I try
to behave as I should
my instincts pry
outside me, forcing me as I once would.
If I ever learn
how to see as you wish
will it be my turn
to be blind enough for bliss?

Working Man

So strong, so noble.
Day in and day out
exhausted, you go
to work tirelessly at your
thankless job
so your girls at home can
have a roof, food, clothing…
what would we do without you?

Early morning rush
clock in and take everyone’s load.
You sweat, sometimes
you even bleed
for hours, hours,
all to find welcoming
as you walk in the front door.
Finally, it’s paid off, the
hard day’s work.
What would we do without you?

You do it all for us
you say. But, hey –
do lone men
get monetary assistance just for
being lone men?
Your life would be just the same.
So, what would we do without you?

With you, let me
wake up, rush to the neighboring
room
Fake bright eyes for good mornings
get dressed, let me make you breakfast
Is the working man awake? Let’s make sure
he has what he needs, and don’t forget
to wish him ease and give him gratitude –
He might just forget.
While you eat, let me
get dressed and ready, and make some coffee to keep me going.
I’ve got your snack, your water, your
lunch – brush your teeth!
You’re sad today, but we have little time;
give me your morning fears.
I’ll hold your tears until the day is done.
Now, chin up, brave faces
Mommy is always here.
Back to hustle, let me fix
your hair still in a tussle
it’s time to take you to your day
so I may
start mine.
Walk inside, keep the pace fast.
No sitting or restroom relief just
for seven and a half more hours –
you had the time this morning.
Times up, freedom rings
Time to get the little one
“How was your day? No answer –
Okay, I love you. What’s that you’re looking to?
Ah, of course, the ceiling. Let me take your bag, since you’ve turned away
from me without it anyway. Let’s drive home in silence.”
Back home, unload, “get your stuff up off the floor”
Time to start cooking – while I cook, let’s
go through your bag
Check off, sign here, don’t forget the note for tomorrow’s appointment!
Field trip next week, remember to pay, and tomorrow
is themed, so
find something grey
and a project due tomorrow that you have
hidden until today, but
it’s all okay – let me clean out your lunch box –
Oh, dinner. Cleaning as I go saves time.
Noble man, welcome home! “Can I
get you anything? No, I didn’t make it to
the store today – No, I – okay, I will get it done – could you
maybe not leave your shoes and belongings right
in everyone’s path? Okay, I’ll move it. No, what’s cooking isn’t what
you wanted, please, sit down and you’ll be served because it
is what you’ve earned.”
Dinner is ready, two plates made, but I cannot delay
with this mess I’ve made.
Clean more, oh you’re done, but you don’t feel up to cleaning your dishes just yet?
I can’t stare at it as it just sets –
I’ll take care of it.
It’s nearly 7, wash up little, and – you haven’t done your work yet?
Let me start some laundry before I help – I need
to find everyone clothes for tomorrow.
Time is ticking and I’ve yet to start my work – deep
breath – now, finish cleaning and the child must
take her allergy pills. Don’t forget – tomorrow is something
grey –
oh yes, Noble Man, – “how was your day?”
He must work early tomorrow, and has some simple requests:
wash his uniform, and, dear – spend time with us! You’re never here –
such a grump Mom is, never smiling or having any fun.
“Where are my keys that I brought in and set down myself?”
Time for bed – but the laundry still must dry
and I haven’t showered yet –
“You’re showering this late? I need you to lie next to me
so I can sleep peacefully” – “I need you to read to me, so
I can sleep, Mommy” –
I….
I’ll be right there, let me just wrap my hair – I know you both can’t
just give me time to blow it dry.
I’ll stay up and finish it all
and tomorrow, I look forward to doing it again.

Working Man,
what would I do without you?

Dark Cloud

When the dark cloud comes
It’s all I can see
Everything in my past
Is only dark and cloudy
My dark cloud talks
And tells me there is no light
It analyzes my walks
And assures me I’m not alright

My dark cloud looms
And builds into a storm
It takes no prisoners
And has perfect form
It eats me alive
Starting in my throat
Taking every piece of me
Making me its host

The dark cloud is forceful
in reminding me I’m his
He is never remorseful
He decides who lives
My dark cloud tells me
I deserve to die
But I know it’s just the dark cloud
Selling me his lie.

This dark cloud is convincing
Showing me images of myself
I become him without wincing
My home becomes his hell
I look into eyes
And feel nothing, see no one
He is my disguise
I am nothing, I am no one.

In bed with my dark cloud
He becomes my selfish lover
Strong and well-endowed
I sleep, but he stays to hover
He shows me what I know
But this sleep, it knows me better
It’s time for dark cloud to go
And I wake to better weather.

Not Enough.

I wish it didn’t taste
so bitter on my tongue
I wish I didn’t waste
All the smiles proudly sung
I wish I deserved you
and could feel what I should feel
I wish I didn’t unnerve you
and could accept what is as real

I don’t want this pain
Nor should you grow within it
You shouldn’t know disdain
Or this home I’ve created in it
This roof is made of tomorrow
Of many promises broken
This bed holds cries of sorrow
And words that should never be spoken

I’m sorry I am who I am
And I can’t become un-me
I’m sorry I can’t program
A better life for you to see
I won’t make up false stories
because hope is an ugly affliction
I won’t fill you with glories
that show some shiny depiction

I will give you all that I hold
Which may be little, but it is true
Whatever you may be told
Please know, I love you
I wish those words held more
Or overshadowed the lacking of me
But I feel them to my core
And giving you more is my only plea.

I love you is not enough.

Shitty & Bad.

Impatiently I pour
into water warm & stagnant
I just don’t have the time.

Hurry, we’re late
and I can’t wait for fresh brew
Or for exchanges to be but brief & few

Red lights heating up
my let’s go flesh
Fingers strangled by seat’s mesh
I just don’t have the time.

Car idle & warm
Too early, must wait.
Inhale relief, exhale regret
Just in time to bid bye irate.

You must be teaching me
Patience, calm
I can’t do it. All I do
I do all wrong.

Why do you do this –
Make my time stand still
for such little thrill?
Why when I’m empty, do you choose me to fill?

I don’t deserve you,
you and your disciplined, divided attention
I like to think of it as mine.
You know you can always,
always, always kill my time.

Purge.

A peaceful interior –
molded by erosion
and feeling inferior
to one with insides frozen –
resides within her;
She’s fullest when she’s empty.

The graceless girl –
closing all the windows,
frantically seeking your disappointment –
she takes no enjoyment in the pain
but it makes her feel she’s home,
neighboring houses of acceptably sane.

Cracking the door, unhooking the chain
You’re either outside or locked in
to feel her within,
to be forced to drown in her dead skin
that she sheds unapologetically all over your fraudulent willingness to care.
You could at least hold back her hair
and ignore the vomit at your feet.

Spit

Drop me
Drop me
Don’t even squeeze me goodbye
Just stick around long enough
to hear the screech
and see the splatter
Don’t forget
To lean over
and spit.