in a fit of trifle

as if a tea bag over steeped
our founding love now bittersweet
a plastic castle, a cardboard tomb
incarcerated in a too large room
plenty space to fill with words
one doesn't mean but says in purge
I'll kiss you - "I miss you," death, to her.
too many thoughts just overheard

this is not what I signed up for.

I read what you write
and I know how speak of them-
those girls that have all come before
and I can't help but blame them
for this jaded and angered
man I vehemently deplore

you're frustratingly selfish
deliberately insolent
and always inform me you're bored
these are things I choose to ignore

for I know in between
lies the heart of a kind
someone I cherish and adore.

it's just why does that king
at the sound of a ring
fall to disheveled pieces on the floor?

where is the truth is your allure?

do not ask, for you already know

dear a
a girl I loathe
a topic I fear to broach

but if your heart is in my direction
and your will is as clear as I see
I do swear

I will slit your throat
and watch you bleed

they're exes for a reason, write?

I'm not sure I like what I cause you to write
apparently your muse is better versed
in the art of deceitful pretension.

lost?

the occasional trash talking
the metaphorical street walking
palpable distance in the larger sense
my hands shaking
a bitter awakening
of loss of time worse spent
I breathe in greater meaning
as you breathe out gentle screaming
oh, it's a wonder the places I'll go

a party for everyone else.

out of nowhere a twist and turn
a titl-a-whirl stuck in reverse
but I shaped and curved and fell into place
and still it was too little too late
I ran right into that wide, closed gate
and now I'm left alone in the yard
there is no one to catch me when I fall

death

do you remember when of this we first spoke?
that brisk autumn night that feels so long ago?
you told me things will always get better.
so why don't those words work anymore?

a short december?

why does the winter provide such narcosis
and insomnia and longing and dreaming?
why does the impending cold
provide a chance to erode
the warmth that I was once teeming?

coughing

as a final reminder of the ticking clock
I've been forced to rewrite my wrongs
in favor of a past worth remembering

why those days gone before
still haunt me I don't know
but through these hiccups
the choking is obscene
and that is literal
nothing further needed

one shot too many

I walked right into an hourglass
I had hoped had wept it's last grain
and was forced to remember time before
that led me to what is today
I had prayed this was out of your system
that rationality might keep you afloat
instead it's my presence is necessary
in a life I don't think is my own.