‘Please Talk To Me’

poetry

I would say at points
‘I want to make things right’,
I would always insist

Then I would proceed to
steam-roll and ignore;
beg you speak your mind
and then simply disregard

all the while getting annoyed
as you deigned to speak out less
and less

Now we hardly speak at all

and it’s all I can do to stop myself
from sitting and writing: Please

talk to me

please talk to me

please talk to me

please talk to me

please talk to me

please talk to me

please talk to me

please talk to me

please

Why me, God?

poetry

Why me, God?
Why do you always do this?
Every. Single. Time.
I don’t get it.
Of all the other people, why me?
It’s ridiculous.
Over and over and over again it happens.
It’s always full throttle forward,
Why can’t I get a break?
What did I ever do to deserve this?
Why me, God?
Why did you pick me?
Why did you choose to save me?
To infinitely bless me?
To give me so much?
There’s so many more deserving,
Yet I’m the recipient.
It’s not fair.
Why me, God?
Why do you always do this to me?

lives in my spine now

poetry

why,
little city burning
backs gettin’ warm
pictures of men
that shoulda been me
so i never grew up
i’m glad i figured that out
and i torture myself
and i’m only alright sometimes
why,
lighting up the glass
can’t stay off the ground
and i can’t remember
how nice it used to be
pictures of the moon
that’s where i’d like to be
that pond behind your house
where i go when i sleep
why.