Poetry

Gouging Out My Thoughts

 

I taped a leaf on this page,

all brown and orange.

Crackling and scattering

when I closed my notebook,

it all fell out.

 

My feet shaking on the frail patio rail,

swooping through ravines,

gouging my eyeballs out,

dangling from sockets,

single threads,

dumbbell weights

protruding from my head.

 

A new way of life,

always looking down,

never around,

minding my own business,

grounded in my own thoughts

for once.

I see pesky ants closer now,

prowling in leaves remain,

they don’t look so small

when my eyeballs fling in the dirt.

Viewing my frontal lobe from below,

reality is flopping in the wind.

Untying the Knot

 

What I really want is a return

to the unfamiliar of an airplane seat,

jolting back into the blue leather

like it’s the first time.

Aspiration soon lifted before me,

a once-in-a-lifetime experience

could become my every day.

 

Lifting from cloud-shaped memories,

flying over mountains, pointy like a knife,

prairies stale like hour-opened pop,

I untie the knots in my head.

 

Tarmac touchdown is an instant wonder

where I find a sense of hope,

but still only vacation.

 

Walking through palm-lined pathways

opens a gate to an external heart.

Passing my ten-years-older clone on a sidewalk,

our soundwaves don’t echo,

in fact, we never knew.

 

It’s not only landscapes I admire,

but a petal falling.

Receding and climbing with the tides,

eclipsing the sun for a moment,

to realize the distant sounds

of eggshells cracking

can no longer be heard.

 

I don’t miss Southern-fried attitudes,

they hold so many people back.

Heart of Disdain

 

Bluebirds left my heart years ago,

gained back,

never wept,

skies cry them for you.

 

Acid rain

captures hearts,

just a couple.

Not until it went to shit

that people felt for you.

 

Let’s weep tears,

make grounds feel cold

like a Costco freezer.

Lock me in there

‘till my fingernails fall off.

Who needs those,

when you have casseroles?

 

Freeze to death

surrounded by coffee cake.

But first,

stop by the sample station

and pick your poison.

 

They serve hearts,

not of romaine,

bloody aortas

gushing and staining

toxic disdain.

Nothing new

but a fingernail

in my cheese dip.

 

Come to the freezer

and follow me to an afterworld,

where every day is your birthday,

but nobody cares,

time was never real in the first place.

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