Shelley

No more.

No more
of this
silly talk,
of this
can't-get-
you-out-
of-my-
head-talk,
of this
inebriation.

Too much.

Too much
of this
self-injury,
of this
crack-me
open-so
you-can
see-who
I-am,
of this
hope.

No more.

Esso

Open my mouth
and out pours all
of my thoughts
regarding the useless
parts of myself
that I think you'll
be amused by.
But it's pointless,
absurd, and utterly
foolish.

I reach for the
shovel
and step closer to the
plot
and reach deeper into the
grave
and haul out the
sixth foot.

Honey

Honey,
please remember
that your clarity
is simply wishful
thinking, rather
than a promise,
and I'm wishfully
thinking that
you should choose
to stand on the
edge of this ledge
looking over the
unknown with
me
by your side,
holding your strong
hands, while we
close our eyes,
say our prayers
and make the jump
together.

Honey, you're too sweet
to leave all alone.

Day Old

Bakery buns
hot on the wires
beckoning the passers
by, to buy
them for a Sunday
lunch, after church
in November
for his parents,
far from home,
desperate to impress.

A neon pink
triangle shaped
sticker on a crinkled
bag, holding in the
air that ages
the already day-old
buns, on sale
for half price,
desperate,
so desperate for use.

Oh, how stale
is my little heart.

Mortar

This early in the

morning I feel 

nothing but the 

sting of confusion 

and frustrated 

thoughts, crashing 

into the walls in my 

mind, built with 

mortar and fear, 

keeping the hurt out--

or at least attempting 

to do so. 

If you and I 

are intersecting lines 

that are destined to 

move steadily away 

for the rest of 

eternity, 

then my heart will 

surely take a hit, 

of this, 

I am sure. 

6

I try to act distracted
but you come to mind,
swift, and unstoppable,
like a mosquito hits a windshield
going 120,
like a roaring river at the start of
spring time,
like a north wind blows autumn
leaves,
you come to mind,
swift, and unstoppable.

5

And when I listen close
I hear old words of an
old heart that's lived for
100 years or more,
waiting to speak to
me, of all people,
as if I have some aged
wisdom to reply with.
Phrases that bounce
off of the dusty corners
of the room that is your
soul, crying out to me
with a sweetness I've
never heard until now.
And because my lips
are weak and lame,
I simply smile as wide
as my cheeks will allow
to echo your sentiments
and to tell you of my
growing desire to
belong to you.
Please know, that my
eyes are trying to tell you
all the things I have
no words to say, and
I hope you can understand,
because I desperately
desperately
desperately
need you to hear me
out.

Little Ghost

You send shivers
up my spine and
through my skin
though I have yet
to see your face
or know what your
voice sounds like.
You're a little ghost,
laced in words I say
and the words I hear,
smiling your maniacal
smile, eyes glittering
in the darkness,
waiting for me to see.
See, I didn't invite you,
you didn't come into
this equation with me,
so I kindly ask you
to find someone else
to haunt.
You were given up
for good reason,
and I don't care
if you don't have the
faculties to move on--
I've won, you've lost,
and that's all there is
to it.