All the Stars that Fall

For the 1 in four Americans who suffer from mental illness

A salute to flag that flies higher than I
And above all its victims that call
The stripes that were stripped and littered the sky
And all the stars that fall

Stomach Pains (Q. 5)

[Not really anywhere at all, but color is pale]
The worst pain is a lack of feeling.
In the interest of time and space
I abdicate myself, watching dry paint wet
And balk at the principle of action

Equinox

A work I only could have written and published today (or yesterday technically)

We must say

goodbye

 

to winter

today;

 

her soft firm hugs

of ice

and delirium

and torment;

Debunking

I saw some blood in the physics department bathroom (or maybe ketchup) and was inspired to write this murder “mystery.”

Someone was murdered who I never met

Spent his days in preparation

Spent his nights deep in regret

But he’d always watch the sun set

 

It must have been a dream

He swore he lived in that sun set longer

And he had a friend

Stay until the moon’s first gleam

And the Sun Also Rises

There’s always an end

When facing a bed

And turning away

And tossing away

At the end of the day

 

Remember your dreams

Embrace your fears

Let out your screams

And dry your tears

Remember there’s hope

And the sun also rises

What do We Know?

This a poem that I’d apparently written sometime last winter. It’s exactly how I reacted to my growing problems. It’s exactly how a person in need of help reacts to problems. It’s exactly what no man should do in response to his problems. And it’s exactly the kind of person you probably think is the happiest person on the planet. Seek help now; you’re not alone. http://ok2talk.org/ (considering submitting this to the preceding site).

No one must know

No one.

 

No one must see that display

Of the bright man’s demise

Who is brought see easily down

By a rose of any other name

For though she is sweet

She unknowingly embeds

The thorns of memories

Inescapable.

 

No one must know

No one.

Oncology and Psychology

Some old sad poem; I promise there won’t be too many more of these

I am your cancer

Your shouting infant

Your infinite pain

Constantly checking the phone

Constantly checking online

Constantly checking alone

Perhaps for an answer

 

Long Shower

Sadly, what I used to use showers for

Thank you shower

For making pain osmosis

Covering cried rivers with sewage

And hiding me in mist

 

Thank you shower

For giving me a crowd

A cadence to roar and reign over the sound

Engendering a scream-stealing space

Greyest Skies of Tuesday

One of my older ones

Greyest skies of Tuesday

Reminding me of lost loves and hopes

Clouds raining tears of Tuesday

That black beast shoves and gropes

 

Day After Day

An old poem about shyness

Laying down

Wasting the day

Self-induced alienation

Towards her un-bold