write the stars on my body
like they are written on my mind
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Poetry
I’m working on writing a thousand poems. I started in April 2015.
Poem #799
even folded
my wings are bright
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Poem #797
I’m alone
not doing too well
a beetle
with a cracked exoskeleton
functioning
but not thriving
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Poem #796
why is it that
when you need people the most
they’re not there
perhaps it is actually
that you don’t need them
until they’re gone
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Poem #795 – everything’s alright
my burning ship sails into the harbor
the flames stand taller than the mast
but I slip into a slip without a blip.
once tied off, I stroll across the dock to dry land
firefighters haul their heavy hose past me
fast paces and serious faces, I don’t know where the race is
Poem #794 – why I dream of them only after they were gone
I neither flick nor otherwise attempt destruction
of the tiny flea that jumps onto my arm
a “good” person doesn’t fuss over trivial matters
it harvests my blood,
not nearly enough to suck me dry,
I itch for a week.
I am angry.
it’s not the blood I miss
it’s the bump I never wanted
Poem #793
when you’re suicidal,
you’re supposed to tell someone
but, thing is, you know it’s crazy
and you know you won’t do it
no reason to worry people.
the insidious thing is the longer you don’t speak
the more the urge to die wins
because it lives in isolation
a bacteria that blooms in your dark-dense agar
Poem #792
sweep me up at the dark beach
I can’t stop smiling
the palpable touch of air heavy with salt
your arms bunching up the folds of my sweater
the feeling that I’m special
I think of you always after dusk
when the breeze is soft
and the light is softer
you remind me of dancing
in my grandma’s yard
on desert nights with wind chimes
and a lovingly watered willow tree
you’d watch me dance
smiling as big as I am
Poem #791
when I take the medicine everyday
the poetry is gone
so am I
but you like me better
Poem #790 – i’m not tough
maybe I dreamed we met on Halloween
because it was expected that we wear masks
both of us donning wolfskin
bearing our teeth
in an attempt to hide
our wool peeking out from underneath