passive-aggressive

poetry

sitting in your little
room,
shaking,
pressing playPRESSINGSTOP,
you grin.

you continue shaking.

you breathe a sigh of
relief,
“at least no one knows”
you think to yourself,
sating your nerves with
positivity.

your eyes see a bathroom
on your computer screen,
brought to you by apple
inc. and your girlfriend
is sleeping in the other room
and noticing this you get up
and walk what seems miles
to hear her loudly snoring and
you thinkSHITILEFTITON
and you hurry back and
you realize that you’re shaking
again and this sigh stutters
out of your mouth and falls
to the pit of your stomach

again you press play

you skip past the part
where you set up the
camera,
past the part where you
leave,
past the part where she
uses the bathroom

again you press play

the shakes come on
hard,
real hard,
you smile
grin
you smile and grin
i see you smiling
and grinning
cheesing
pressing play
i see your white teeth
through your smile
i see and i know i smelled
it on you,
i smelled it on your breath
trailing every word that
you said,
i wont forget that smell
and i wont let you live
with that.

not with that smile.

The Bad Summer Daze

poetry

O how many summer mornings shall be filled with anger

When cooperation can be the first solution ?

*

O how many summer mid days are filled with joy

While pain exists so deep within our souls ?

*

O how many summer evenings drag on in dullness

Without distraction or relief from all the hurt ?

*

O how many more days must I wait in the heat

While time continue to pass me by ?

I Have Died for the First Time

poetry

“I think of you as a brother,” SHE says

The words-like a spell-unlocked FEAR

Which attacked my heart relentlessly

To the point where I have now died my first death

*

I am dead inside

My heart bleeds profusely til the blood is no more

MY FEAR has taken solid form

And now exists to torture me

*

“I think of you not as a sister,

But something much more than that,”

I wish to say, but

My heart’s voice is being strangled

*

Did I speak far too soon?

Or did I speak far too late?

Did I release myself too quickly

Resulting in not relief, but the emptiness I feel now?

*

The Hurricane of Tragedy has broken

The Levees of my heart

Which suppressed my innermost emotions

Now the light which should guide me

To safe ground, has been Relinquished

And through the dark I must move alone