Poisonous.

to remind me

that my vulnerability is stronger than my actual weakness

But there's no budge or blood from either

Am I even real?

Flit and flutter

From scripture to

Limerance

Worth only a spit in the wind

Never have my words been this wet

And dry at the same time

Wrongly wet

Awfully dry

Without my own tears

I'm not worried if you are awake

Or anyone at all

I'm not worried that I'm vulnerable

(Anymore...are you?)

I worry everyone I have ever spilled my guts to was asleep while I've been doing it

I'm a fever dream forced to break itself

But still comforts everyone else

Yet I'm waiting for someone to share in me

(I thought it was you-even if it is hard)

You do

Never request season at a cookout

I know every meal you like

I fucking make it

Or get it

I know

How to prepare your coffee

Where your clothes go

That you like to keep your belt in work pants to wear them again

I don't like Dunkin's hashbrowns

And I prefer their coffee

specifically sweet

But you chose black to be safe

Because you don't know me

Can't care for the details

Until it presses on your feelings

I don't understand

The lack of reciprocity

Feels like always taking a pitch to the face

But also being the catcher

blamed for a pitcher's bad aim

When do I get to throw and be recieved?

When will my soul hit you in the face

Because

My hands aren't the best carrier apparently

Nothing gets ME through to you

Maybe if I was a cube

I'd get the same eagle eye

Attention deficit?

Attention specific!

Something you'd long to figure out

Rather than proud to have or look at

Even then you'll save an ex

I'm fucking streeeessseeeddd

You weave yourself into every piece of me

And when you don't make center

You take it over me

My hurt can't matter because it makes you hurt

My unknown is a burden because you don't care to dig or have patience to connect

I've seen you think more critically behind a screen

Than right in front of me as I am begging

Big yikes

Nevermind my hormonal spikes

Which I never use as a copout

But here I am handcuffed in disappointment

"I'll get the litter in the morning and treats"

6:00pm I'm store shopping

Since you don't practice what you preach

You must be such a victim

Belly full

And spending a 4th of your

Office chair check on everything

To my 1/3 on just the house

Value to a vaccuum-me

Vacuum of value

I'm swallowed whole in both

Where is the our in your you

Seems like you should include y more

This is YOUR world

Mind you

Do you mind it?

Tell me what we need in the pantry

Tell me how I take my coffee

Dress my burger casually

Tell me anything about me

Please

Make me think you actually fucking like me when I'm not your pleasure garden

Because I can bloom outside of you

You know

I tended gardens before

I had my own fucking harvest

But all of my fruit are in drought

If you want all of me

Fucking water it

I don't like chili on my burgers

I don't like when you turn my depression

Into your own victimhood

The way other people prefer things matter

You can make space for that despite yourself

The other side IS usually greener in the south

Haphazardly the cuntry has climatic history and documentary to back that

But the grass will always be greener anywhere else where someone else constantly waters

whatever you want...

How is your lawn?

Mapped?

Watered?

Enjoyed?

Trimmed?

Surveyed?

WHAT lives here?

Tell me in 10 seconds.

Tell me at all.

Because I can tell you all that lives here

Throughly

Inside and out

Can you say the same?

Can you say you look inside yourself before outside?

When do YOU wonder about the grass?

Why do you wonder about the grass?

Which grass?

I've never been too concerned...sure sure

I know green is green.

It all treats me mean.

But you have a color scheme of anything you want...

What a goddamn luxury

Before you

Red was my green

And now me,

My

I

Have had to remix, rethink all the colors

Reframe harm, love, sex, abuse, heaven, and all the GREEN (reds) that accompany

I'd assume I'm color blind now

So be the eyes, Mr. Greener

Where's the good here

That so deeply

Blurs with bad and burning

Please mix there

Sit there

Does it overtake the best of me?

That's the only question I mean.

Some days I think if

I tell you all of your IFS are forgiven

It is enough for you to leave me for mine

Why are you the only one allowed

"human" nature?

It's a dangerous qualifier

it's oceans shy of apology

It's a cop out brutalizing city streets

considering human's nature; ugly

On both sides

Hell finds you everywhere

And treads the gates of heaven

I've waited for

I've waited to

I've waited

And reframed myself in every perspective

I've seen patterns within myself

Radiated outside

I'm not

I'm not enough

Not kind enough

Soft enough

Quiet enough

Complacent

I am a gorgon consuming

to preserve a mouth begging

My passion is always misplaced

It is not my fault you don't know where to put it

I have made spaces and carved myself bare for the blunt of yours

And I don't know if the surface even cracked yet

My back bent and mind focused on

this Meta malignance

Like who the fuck even has that

face, space, click, download, book

Or cares enough to look

The greener grass??

That patch of people

We've made fun of

Yet

I end up the joke.

And not the first time

I love you

All the rest is moot

Complaining is feigning

Hurt

Heavy

"Apart from the pulling and hauling

Stands what I am"

Wrecked by the reckoning

You

Will

Everyone

Eventually

Leaves For Grass

I haven't written in a while and I know this is shit.

I think Bukowski would like it though

He was a goddamn dick

but most men are

At least he sat with the ugly

of his own human nature

At least he meant what he saidThe other side IS usually greener in the south

Haphazardly the cuntry has climatic history and documentary to back that

But the grass will always be greener anywhere else where someone else constantly waters

whatever you want...

How is your lawn?

Mapped?

Watered?

Enjoyed?

Trimmed?

Surveyed?

WHAT lives here?

Tell me in 10 seconds.

Tell me at all.

Because I can tell you all that lives here

Throughly

Inside and out

Can you say the same?

Can you say you look inside yourself before outside?

When do YOU wonder about the grass?

Why do you wonder about the grass?

Which grass?

I've never been too concerned...sure sure

I know green is green.

It all treats me mean.

But you have a color scheme of anything you want...

What a goddamn luxury

Before you

Red was my green

And now me,

My

I

Have had to remix, rethink all the colors

Reframe harm, love, sex, abuse, heaven, and all the GREEN (reds) that accompany

I'd assume I'm color blind now

So be the eyes, Mr. Greener

Where's the good here

That so deeply

Blurs with bad and burning

Please mix there

Sit there

Does it overtake the best of me?

That's the only question I mean.

Some days I think if

I tell you all of your IFS are forgiven

It is enough for you to leave me for mine

Why are you the only one allowed

"human" nature?

It's a dangerous qualifier

it's oceans shy of apology

It's a cop out brutalizing city streets

considering human's nature; ugly

On both sides

Hell finds you everywhere

And treads the gates of heaven

I've waited for

I've waited to

I've waited

And reframed myself in every perspective

I've seen patterns within myself

Radiated outside

I'm not

I'm not enough

Not kind enough

Soft enough

Quiet enough

Complacent

I am a gorgon consuming

to preserve a mouth begging

My passion is always misplaced

It is not my fault you don't know where to put it

I have made spaces and carved myself bare for the blunt of yours

And I don't know if the surface even cracked yet

My back bent and mind focused on

this Meta malignance

Like who the fuck even has that

face, space, click, download, book

Or cares enough to look

The greener grass??

That patch of people

We've made fun of

Yet

I end up the joke.

And not the first time

I love you

All the rest is moot

Complaining is feigning

Hurt

Heavy

"Apart from the pulling and hauling

Stands what I am"

Wrecked by the reckoning

You

Will

Everyone

Eventually

Leaves For Grass

I haven't written in a while and I know this is shit.

I think Bukowski would like it though

He was a goddamn dick

but most men are

At least he sat with the ugly

of his own human nature

a lie| a secret| a promise

my mind has either frayed-

blurred to a slurry of self doubt-

Or keeps heavy patrols

pacing each limb

Tearing apart

A perforated edge

meant to make sense

Right?

Left…

Any direction really

but that bastard heart

skips the cautery

Rips in this quickened, unclean cadence

tripping through logic

with a one way ticket against its catalyst

or is this is a projection-project of myself

it’s all a stew

anyways

it’s all askew

“The use”

This series

of right angles

leaving orthogonal ambivalence

smashed and subjected

to a tear drop

many and more than known

lost

when nothing looks like home

so just…

just stay a series

remain unserious

make nothing

but want everything

to feel like home

I don’t ask questions

I already know

answers stuck to a locked window

your hand on the latch

I’m looking in

strangered to everything I am

and poured empty into

eggs all in one basket

eggs all in one basket broken

don’t make bread

unless you know how to separate

the yolk from the white

the short for the long

the now from the while

You can’t say nothing matters

But everything is matter

So make it matter

Because it matters to me

..,this strange seam

the border between

that it eats the dark

Do you know what you devour?

Have you traced the blood of your trail?

Every harmful thing

Every “sin”

has it’s place

Where is your hand?

Your heart?

Your you in the middle of it?

Even the lamp is aware

that it eats the dark

the reptile room is always warm

the reptiles are in some way

sanctioned of survival

and at least somewhat

aware of the power dynamic

between being caged and

pleasing the hand that feeds them

there are greater beings

navigating same contexts

Different conventions

SO IF

We are more aware

We are the hand

If we are actually aware

We should be softer, mindful, decentered

We have the privilege of that comfy bed

they have “privilege” of glass walls

bare bedded baseline of inequity

socially expressed-impressed

naturally undressed

Because of privilege

We bear brand

Even unasked for

Of our own self

But the grace of acknowledgement

Outside of ourselves

matters more

You don’t see color?

Well damn,

I’m in awe at the rainbow

And how all hues are different

Yet fit so well together

Sure that’s the humanity

Through our privileged lenses

Yet not the miraculous or mediocrity imposed

Just our privilege of our own perception posed

Red against yellow…

fits in fall

If shaded or plated or translated

The other tones don’t get the same grace

and they are

Left jaded

So…the reptile room is quiet

For me

you can hear crickets

And it is peace

FOR ME

decentered: I hear

a begging to be beyond the walls

they can’t bear it

even if they could

they don’t bare it

Brittle boned and brained heavy

heart leaded and levied

Drained and

imposed

Imposed on just because

imposed,

as it just is in place

This male-system saturation

unless it improves…it becomes and is

My burden again

So I

Swallow

Navigate the grooves

Unless it improves-

For who?

yet I give the

Center stage…to you

Center stage-you have the floor!!!

Imagine it! Imagine that!

and I clear the stage again

Per usual

Considerable

The mental load

because

If I don’t…my stagehand forbids I emote

Dead on arrival as if

you aren’t the one to bury

But don’t dig your own grave

I walk as pretty as I can

on bloody tip toes

While you tread in safe places of

the same heavy stomping ground

laden by footprints of the previous hurt

these stalemates of “us-es” left before

The same staged floor

you wipe your brow

Yet never take a bow

like some sort of false idol offering

That sour bare minimum

Which used to be bittersweet enough to take

Until faced with breath to our namesake

And earth to our grave stake

So-If you are so cognizant of it

This wouldn’t track

But this…this is such bullshit

and it’s easy to follow

That pattern recognition

Ya know, the one

you’re so good at

and EVEN

Better at than me

I guess just

Hasn’t kicked in yet…

or maybe it’s this

easier falsehood to fall back on

To yourself

Yet never for us

I’m left with the catch

Is all of this trial and temporal battles

Or just a constant cry for my kind of being

Waiting or whole wanting ?

Both to have less sensitive balls to straddle

Uncomfortable precipices and misunderstandings of kindness

It must have to be that or

Compromise must be so damn

Easy for us to forget

Easier for you yet

Mine: The mental load

gravity of all the gratitude

ungratified, bastardized

Weighted with the unwanting or undeserving

the latter you get to neglect

As the mental load goes

The days fold

Do I satiate or impose?

There are more things with thorns than the rose

And the weight we bear beyonds the blues

and bare bleeds our hues

You’re not lost on me but

I feel like I am constantly swimming to you

conducive to those blues

What would you choose?

aquamarine, to indigo, to sorrowed spruce

Is there a choice?

For me too?

There always is for you.

Does the resonate? CC

You can choose to: bear it or become bare of it

You get to choose your hue

Just by being you

What a pleasure it must be to always play the main character in your blues…

Your own personal sorrowed spruce

Center stage…

Curtain close…

I’ll take the bow

the mental load

Credits roll…

What a disservice of a soul

they can’t bear it

even if they could

they don’t bare it

Brittle boned and brained heavy

heart leaded and levied

Drained and

imposed

Imposed on just because

imposed,

as it just is in place

This male-system saturation

unless it improves…it becomes and is

My burden again

So I

Navigate the grooves

Unless it improves-yet I give the

Center stage…to you

Center stage-you have the floor!!!

Imagine it! Imagine that!

and I clear the stage again

Per usual

Considerable

The mental load

because

If I don’t…my stagehand forbids I emote

If he isn’t centered?

No play to debut

Cut the lights

Dead on arrival as if

you aren’t the one to bury

But don’t dig your own grave

I walk as pretty as I can

on bloody tip toes

While you tread in safe places of

the same heavy stomping ground

laden by footprints of the previous hurt

these stalemates of “us-es” left before

The same staged floor yet

you wipe your brow at our feet

like some sort of false idol offering

That sour bare minimum

Which used to be bittersweet enough to take

Until we gave breath to our namesake

And earth to our grave stake

So-If you are so cognizant of it

This wouldn’t track

But this…this is such bullshit

and it’s easy to follow

That pattern recognition

Ya know, the one

you’re so good at

and EVEN

Better than me at

I guess just

Hasn’t kicked in yet…

or maybe it’s just

easier falsehood to fall back on

To you

Yet never for us

Is all of it always these temporal battle

Or just a constant battle of my kind of being

Waiting or whole wanting for us?

Both to have less sensitive balls to straddle

Uncomfortable precipices and misunderstandings of kindness

It must have to be that

Compromise must be so damn

Easy for us to forget

Easier for you yet

Mine: The mental load

gravity of all the gratitude

ungratified, bastardized

Weighted with the unwanting or undeserving

the latter you get to neglect

As the mental load goes

The days fold

And the weight we bear beyonds the blues

and bare bleeds our hues

You’re not lost on me but

I feel like I am constantly swimming to you

Must be conducive to those blues

What would you choose?

aquamarine, to indigo, to sorrowed spruce

Is there a choice?

For me too?

There always is for you.

Does the resonate?

You can choose to: bear it or become bare of it

You get to choose your hue

Just by being you

What a pleasure it must be to always play the main character in your blues…

Curtain close…

Credits roll…

All I have the gumption to say is:

What a disservice of a soul