listen

i am sitting next to him
and he is talking
but i act like i'm not
listening
listening to his voice
not the words
the tone
the depth
the way he doesn't
talk to me.

phones.

I am going
to let the phone ring
just one more time
because I know
the second I reach out
for the call
the ringing
will stop.

caring 1

I really hate
that I want
to feel bad
for you.

constant.

the rules
are different
every time
but they always
seem to change
just when I
need a
constant

glory

why is it
why is
it
so hard
so
so hard
to look
look beyond
ourselves
us
and
our own ideas
ideas
of glory

claudia

some people
you just
can't ever
ever
reach
even if
you think
you already
have

(I made this poem orange because I think this shade is annoying unless it is on a creamcicle... then I just lick it off.)

workplace

i hate systems
systems
based on
degredation.
what
is wrong
with
praise?

Lust 2

alone in intensity
scanning over it with
eyes of clouded lust
over and over
a cascade of experiences
beyond instinct
beyond
second nature
she reaches
hands grasping
with waves of anticipated
pleasure
fingers
fanning out over the silk
wound in her hair
between the teeth
biting down on the
juciest secret
the ripest fruit

Lust 1

gleaming metal
the trap springs
but the hunter
only assumes skill
the prey
knowing far better
that it was
meant to be
accepts the invitation
and dies
gracefully
again
and again

911

"You mean
to tell me
this isn't
4-1-1?"


(I work as a dispatcher and this is one of the calls we got. I put it into a poem form)

Ed

I want
to take
a red sharpie
marker
and fill in
the tiny holes
in his red shirt
the white one
shows through
underneath.

betray

Fingers crossed
and heart broken
friendship assumed
and enemies
unspoken.

slices.

The steel shines
a brief glint
catching the light on its way
down and through
the softness breaking open
like the skin
of a tomato
leaking red onto the counter
into the air
the magic of
oxygen
touching the color
changes
and it slips from an open hand
both fall
at the same speed
and both
diminish.

My week...

I am so lucky
I have a job that
I hate
and you
think I'm
irritating.

Whatever.

Whatever happened to
humanity?
The question
explains
and answers
itself.
"Whatever"
happened to humanity.

mirror

everyone is
looking
everyone is looking into me
but i must be
blind
because
i am looking too
and i can't see

pieces.

pieces of dreams
go flying
and no one
notices.

trap

the teeth cut
my ankle to shreds
laying
on the ground
looking up at the sky
the clouds moving on
and me
left behind

floating

the worst part
the worst
feeling
inadequate
obligated
pushed in
sink or
swim time
but
instead
floating by