my poems

the undermath

Just under that layer of smiles
I have to keep rolling
keep talking, keep rolling
so that the iceberg is always showing
and there isn't time to delve beneath
the tip of my persona

I can feel it trying to melt into the deep water
the black of myself
and I roll forward,
as soon as I stop
it will shatter me
it will fill me with despair
I will crumble in tears upon my mattress
and stay that way, contorted until I sleep

But if I keep rolling, keep talking,
never stop,
I can keep it at bay for awhile
until it hits me like a tidal swell
and I am crippled with it
my depression
always just under the surface
and me trying not to fall through the paper-thin floor.

d.u.m.p. ? The Magic Hour. aka FUCK YOU.

Our magic hour does not overlap

Or even coexist

We are separate

You coming first

Hyper and messy

And I trail, picking up the pieces of the wreckage at evening’s dusk.

-A clock that will last for 60 years.

-A calendar that never will be.

-One lost string from a song that wasn’t written.

-My not-tear, wet against my fingers.

But,

You’ve already learned that it’s easy to pretend dreams don’t have faces

You can be selfish

You can be

whatever you want to be, boy, in your dreams.

You haven’t yet learned that life is harder to live in the dust of your boots

Or worse- another’s

No, don’t turn around boy

No need to see me in your wake.

Keep walking

Keep walking

toward your magic hour.

Validation

Validation

(Why is it so addictive?)

A world can go from voice filled

to silent in a day

and it's so quiet

there is no one to tell me

how lovely i am

and how they never want to be more than two feet away.

the oxytocin has run out

and I'm dry everywhere,

brittle-

the addiction

needs feeding

but I'm alone,

and it's so quiet here.

I started a journey

that he broke in half

and now I'm two steps back

from where I began

looking for validation again.