unlatching secrets

I’m touching your skin
finding we’re the same

breathing your words
tasting your perception
feeding on you

all this is compensation
for our inadequacies

bare
unclean and fleshy

I simply see it now.
soft and obvious
like February moss
after snow melts

Gaping Holes

pity and shame and pain and gain
a jumble

extracting meaning
is like pulling teeth

Still Crawling

No, you were never home
Always at your office
I would visit you
You had that inspirational poster of a cocoon
I wanted to believe so badly
That something beautiful arises
From patience
I thought I understood
I still have your old office number memorized

I can’t misread this anymore
I was never enough
You weren’t either
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry
I just wanted you to tell me
That I'm beautiful

frozen

how foolish
to believe that time
erases memories
I brush my teeth and there you are
idealized, no doubt

ah, hope,
shall I invest in you, too?
I am so weary
of disappointment
what if you’re another?

there's snow again
wisps of hair in my face
too cold to move
conceal it all, snow
whiteout everything

gather me

let me tell you everything

quick drops of this year
in piles
directly on you
untidy files flopped on a desk
loads of everything and nothing
you sort it out.
dig around
gather the scattered
I can’t make sense of it.

you promised to finish this.

redraft

I want to hide in a book and never come out
Rewrite what’s happened to me
Invent a new future
I’d be a charming protagonist
I would.

Grace

Guess what, grace? I don’t understand you.
In this cash-in and receive society, that is a bad trade.

To-Do List:
cleaning and re-cleaning
tucking away ugly loose ends
washing my hair once again
smoothing over things that don’t matter

The Mundane
convinces me that I don’t need you, grace.
It robs me of time and reality
it reduces life
to tidy equations:
a garble of outward success,
checking off lists,
and self-sufficiency.

I catch a glimpse of The Giver of grace.
my soul drinks
I fade.

Come here, grace.
The Mundane isn’t trustworthy.
I’m going to The Giver.

release

compressed until all my boxes
no longer have walls
& now I know
that was love.

I cry freely
realizing I was fighting myself.
thought you were the enemy

it was me.

guilt & shame
heartache & pain
arrogance & greed
compartments
hiding places
I surrender

love conquers me.

now

tethered & building castles in the air.
not sure what I’m doing.
I’ll wear a hat and cover up & pretend I’m not who I am.

misunderstanding what this here & now means.
restating, re-tasting yesteryear.
wedged between this & that
I seem to choose nothing always

it’s a shame and a sham, that last year:
that’s what I convince myself
to go through today.

living in the in-between isn't real life.
so I'll take a walk and watch the leaves fall
I'll let go let go let go
to get a grip

looking back

i.
impulsively
I retrace.
meticulously exploring
then feeling
now chasing
the unreachable.

ii.
ah! the exhilarating newness of the first snow!
our group of three, so near tonight
it’s cold. so cold.
little circles of reflected light make the dark lake less threatening
undulating silliness
pulls my toes to the water
we link hands: a wall,
unbreakable.
one step deeper
and we’re in.

iii.
it’s so near.
it’s so far.

guidance

I should form a plan
a life plan
one that looks good typed up
one that a guidance counselor wouldn’t sigh about

I had two guidance counselors in high school

the one knew my name the first day
of my freshman year
it was weird (but comforting)

the other talked about SATs and ACTs and career paths with us in English
my English teacher made sarcastic comments about this one
when she left the room to get some important papers
printed on pink paper

well that one, the last one, saw me in the post office
she gave me pity eyes
I wonder if I deserve those?

I never really liked her, though
so maybe when I go to the high school
to take that career test she was talking about that will tell me my interests
I’ll snag the other guidance counselor,
the one who knew my name.

choose

picking at old scabs
an incessant echo of the new and old
and me
bound between.

reformed
reopened

I need more time

the mental process illogically

love is feelings
and sometimes i don't feel them

if i only love you when you wear your hair up
does that make me a terrible person?
i mean it's just those curls

i know i'm depressed
which makes me better
i'm poised to swoop in and save myself
from this self-evident fate

love is a vacuum
it's a chore and it sucks

love is romance
but eventually that new smell goes away
and your sweet voice screeches
and you don't wear your freaking hair up any more

i know i'm sick
but i thought if i became as superficial as you
maybe you'd love me as much as yourself

love is a choice
and were i a better person
perhaps this would work

banana phone. ring!

yellow cardboard box of cheerios and a banana
this morning
breakfast is my favorite and you’re along
to share.

mugs as bowls; cheers to that.
catch up
about nothing and everything and something
or other.

go back go back go back
to ease
this weight lifted with a simple pinky
promise.

to people at church who never talked to me before now (oh, it's so emooo)

I relied on pieces of things categorized in little boxes
to guide me.
they were mine.

Alphabetized
Compartmentalized
Concealed & Labeled.
All mine.

I’m not depressed now that those silly boxes are gone.
I’m just a little lost.

I don't need more labels about what I've become.
I don't need you to tell me my future.
I don't need you to spell it out for me.
Maybe you should try walking with me.

we know

flash of a smile fragment for you and me and
for, according to you, whenever you’re “around”
forcibly reserved for Christmas and special occasions
basically we have to eat some sort of bird
or maybe a pig

I’m okay with miles and trees and houses and lives between us
just as long as we can pick up from where we left
each other like time between isn’t real
while we secretly bask in each other's smiles
as insecurities are undone without a word

Emptied to be Filled

I choose you and not me
I choose to be free
I want more of this love
this mystery

pouring out my heart
for you to pour in

I must have more
so I’ll give more

only you define me
create me

dance with me
whisper to me

love is what I’m looking for
and you are love
lovelier than life
so that’s what I’m giving
to find you

Forward in a Backward Way

I’m moving forward
momentum gaining
no slowing down
can’t change directions
I’ve lost control

so I guess this is the coarse
(did I even have a choice?)
of course,
and I decided to rip out the breaks
and loose the steering wheel
not even a seatbelt for some security

I feel like I’m flying downhill
but I know it’s still forward motion

Time Slipped Away

there’s a certain meter to this exchange:
I’m trying for 4/4,
exaggerating confidence and normality.
you clip at a 2/4 pace
2 word responses
eyes darting, snatching an escape

I’m sorry we’re not in sync anymore.
Maybe there's too much time
between us.
Should we catch up?

It's for me and you.

syncopated rhythms
anticipated harmonies
it’s deep within me
this song

swept away,
flowing words and melody
a part of me
I can’t deny

Messages

Just dropping off
a message that I’m
still nearby
in the form of the Time

article about cattle
being pumped with steroids and stuff

wasn’t aware
until I hit the familiarity
of the dark halls and awkward
teenage faces
how raw this is

and you caught the tear
dang-it .

and gave me a lesson
about talents being buried
and reminded me who the bad guy was

“What does God want you here for?”

walked past the math rooms
unstable emotions ruling
my feet.

thought I had a plan. where
to go from here?

(I went to the café
and wrote this crappy poem
and also peeked over my laptop
at the worker who smiled while he
made me my tea.)

but why not love before the loss?

I.
wide eyes inspect this change
as he tries to face
his new face

smiling, the barber prattles about
what a mangy mop of
hair he had 30 minutes before

he had agreed 30 minutes ago
frowning now, he speculates and
calculates the length of time to reach his old hair length

II.
squishy tar greets his soft, white
toes scampering for the nonchalance
of summer’s evenings

golden sunlight of late August
never so inviting
trees and fields promptly greener

hurried, ravenous, senselessly
sensing the last of summer
before his first semester back to school

III.
desperately clawing for
the remnants
of love he finds her

in smells and nouns
in bad radio songs
and in the middle of his 8:00 history exam

sleepless, breathless, unwell
nothing matters
now that he can’t have her

conscious of who I wasn’t; unconscious of who I was

I woke to
the stabbing pain of nothingness
and I filled filled filled my time
with empty motions

I searched
and found a torpid world
and followed suit
and fell asleep

Change

So here I am (again)
making this decision.
Will I embrace newness
or dig up the old?

I guess the digging process
should be a reminder
that my old life
is in the grave,
dead.

Wearing grave clothes
is more comfortable
than being stripped naked.

But not more liberating.

So I suppose I must change.

new season

clinky sounds of your lemonade
kinda convince me that summer's not over
that life's at a standstill
that I won't have to face
this.
but I know
that a new season's coming.

The Problem is the Sin, Not the Wound

Here,
Take my heart
I ripped it right out
For you

Funny
I’m surprised
That I can’t seem
To control it anymore

And now I see
That the problem
Isn’t that you took a needle
Digging into raw flesh
Tattooing false messages
All over it

The problem
is that I gave it away.

But I've found something
that gives me back my heart
and rewrites those messages.
And it turns out that this new power
is perfected in weakness.
I'll never be lost again.

Dance

Like a river
I’m tossing and turning
The weight of the year
In my shoulders
In my chest

Freefalling
In the midday sun
Leaping
Kissing the sky

Fragments of identity slip away
Exchanged for freedom

Spin
Surrendered
Flinging off reservations and worry
With each twirl

Unfazed by past and future
I’m consumed with here and now
Submission
Yielding joy

I toss away my ashes
For beauty

Placebo

Vibrant blue hues
of your eyes
flicker
as you explain
that she hurt you,
but you make it into a silly story
and try to hide the pain,
using laughs for medicine.

Tear off that mask,
that farce of a bandage,
and let someone beyond the surface.

Wait Wait Waiting

remember the time
I left my cherry flavored chapstick
on your dash
and it was late July
maybe early August
and it melted into a globby mess?

well the point was
that I was in your car
sideways glancing your calloused hands
on that steering wheel

anyhow, I put the chapstick
in my refrigerator’s vegetable crisper
and put the streaming thoughts of you and me
on freeze too.

I guess I’ll just give it some time.

Living Water

So long, for so long
I restlessly dipped my feet in the water
Occasionally feeling a splash

I want all of you.
I heard it.
Three times I heard it.

And finally I admitted
That I don’t know how.
How do I move?

But I made my choice.
I’m going under
No matter the cost.

And a wave crashed into me
I was overtaken
Swirling

Drowning.

And this death
redefined me.

Gray Sucks

I reduce everything to black or white:
All or nothing.
Good or evil.
Needy or independent.
Happy or sad.

It’s deliciously dramatic,
the high contrast.
No questioning.
Absolute.
Controlled.
Categorical.
Single-minded.
Precise.

And darn it,
I can’t trap you
because you’re absolutely gray.

Rip Current

you’re dripping with sweaty sarcasm
and my eyes reach yours

infinite turquoise blue and damp air take me hostage
engulfed, powerless, sputtering salt
swimming sideways and dodging this nauseating undercurrent

my burning nose reminds me that I’m still feeling
and will not drown in your calm and collected cynicism

Childish

shoes untied,
I’m nimbly dashing

I take a slight fall,
stumbling upon earth

like Alice,
I have encountered a wonderland

chasing a rabbit
into the unknown

“Off with her head!”
I faintly hear

“I’ve lost it already,” I scream
untidy curls poke the sky

I look out at the light show
Pretending the flicker of red and blue
Is celebrating Independence Day
Instead it’s a drug bust.

the cold, March night doesn’t even hint at summer
and I’m walking, walking
past the police man
crackling leaves undertow
undertones of courage sift by
as I fearlessly make my way towards the woods
wait, not fearless—I’ve got plenty of those
no, just passively going.
this isn’t bravery
simple unrest got me here
compelled by discontent
I run away.

pride is dangerous
i thought it was a good weapon
never got hurt
apathy my shield
because if I don’t care
you can’t hurt me
quite the mix for a good fall

so I’m running
running towards anything that could make me feel
feel anything but this gnawing emptiness
i push past everything familiar
tried it, not working
no, I need something concrete
and there you’re sitting.
in the darkness.
probably a good sign you’re no good.
but hey, I’m here too.
and it’s night.
—a good time to hide

i grab you for my journey
you’re wonderful
just can’t bring you home, is all
see, you see,
they wouldn’t understand
no, they wouldn’t
they’d judge you
but I won’t.
i can see you for you
isn’t that good enough?

but I’m tired
so tired
i don’t know if I can do this
I plop down,
and gently you scoop me up and carry me
i surely got carried away
all this attention
i regain my breath and
i finally realize it’s too dark to see who you are
turns out my night vision sucks

I demand to be let go.
you comply, but tell me to lead
Not leave.
the path splits in two, and I have no idea what to do
finally something I can’t ignore
No, no, no I cannot
I cannot tear wildly through this path I know ends badly.
how did I even get here?

well I didn’t take either path
i stopped there, then ran from THAT too
i’m lost
lonely dark woods
echo my cheap cries
cries for new scenery
left you back there (back where?)
left my way out, too

Falling, I cry for morning

But often light
Feels a lot like the law.
Sure, there’s freedom there
Right? I thought so?

Act II

Dashing in a slapdash sort of way
Raucous and abandoned
You startled me with affection
Starving, I accepted
Except I can’t anymore

Slipshod slip
That’s what this was
I’ll be the one to wreck
Our recklessness

I hardly know my own character
I wasn’t rehearsing lines
But you were?

(Although I was pretending.)

Hey
Our play’s over
Close the curtains

Morning to Night

Dash outside
Childhood journey
Backyard, past the duplexes, up that slight hill
Past illuminated by that east burning glow
Gulp in this morning
It will not last

Dash outside
Old judgments rise
Childhood journey
He didn’t say goodbye
Side door, pass the sycamore tree, black car
Past illuminated by that inward burning smolder
Gulp back those tears
Will it last?

Who's Driving My Thoughts?

Driving back to college
Listening to your message over and over
Barely audible over the roar of the engine
Audio clipping and tinny
Voice beautiful, regardless
You cheerfully race through the words
But with an infinitesimal hesitance
What else is on your mind?

Now drowning in music
The wheel slightly off-center
Forcing my hands to awkward positions
My knee locks up
Three hours of painted lines
I can't stand driving
Too slow
My mind races

Walking back from elementary
I focus on the metal gate at the end of the street
A short journey for the trucks
But so much longer on my small feet
I learned how to draw perspective in art
All the lines meet at one point
This road's not perfectly straight
I can't stand walking
Too slow
I run home

Pants-less and ironing
Need to do my shirt, too
I failed to realize I don't have nice shoes
I'll wear my dad's
They mostly fit
My heart's racing
I can't stand ironing
Too slow
I throw it all on and jump in my car

In a dark room filled with people
I'm whispering in your ear
Holding you as closely as possible
The song's over, but I won't let you go

Act I.

You tell me to lead,
Not leave
Well it’s simply not that simple

You see
My eyes are closed and I’m balancing
With hands clasped in yours
I feel safe
You truly make me happy
You choose where I go and I trust you
And I don’t have to have a say in this blind following

Leading instead of blindly following
Would suddenly make me responsible for where we go
Eyes opened, my balancing act would become reality
With a conscious decision I could no longer feign ignorance…innocence
I’d see the frowning spectators
Telling me to jump down off that shaky line

I want to lead
But
You see,
In order to lead, not leave
I’d have to leave a different reality
And I’m torn in this balancing act

There’s more than one thing to balance here
I’m begging you to see

doo do doo

singin’ at the crosswalk
cars zip by
blue skies
windows down
smiling forever

POW!

Division pretty much sucks
And if I had thought bubbles all the time
Showing my opposing thoughts
I’d look impossible

Collisions aren’t always bad
And if my thought bubbles
Popped into your mind
It might be possible
(To change)

We don’t live in an artificial comic book world, though
Nothing’s that bright

It’s my choice
To let people read me
Mostly, though, letting conflicting thoughts appear
Would burst my bubble

There’s no way to collide carefully

Choo choo!

I'm a train, constantly chugging along
I yearn for freedom
Independence from my path and my destination
but every detour I take loops me right back to where I started
I don't have control
yet I'm still unwilling to accept my conductor

If I derail again
just let me crash

Let Me Roll With my Routine, Please

I went West once
all the way to California
I made a point to only stop at BPs, churches, and side of the road fruit stands
I’d drive from 6am to 6pm

my Corolla kinda puttered out at one point
so some church man with a mustache worked on it
I got kinda mad because it threw off my routine
I had to start at 6pm and go to 6am.
so mad.

he sorta inquired where I was from
“You from here?”
“Uh, Ohio actually.”
“Oh.”

2 days of traveling
1 night, too
(8 fruit stands)
(3 churches)
(I lost count of the gas stations—I blame it on Rebecca)
Iowa to Utah made me a little depressed
but it wasn’t all bad
in Nevada I met this girl named Rebecca
she wore mom pants and tan nail polish
was about 27
smoked a little
had this habit of telling me the next exit was her stop
and then would make me stop at Citgos
she knew I hated that
so I left her at one.
still feel a little guilty about that one

California wasn’t that impressive, actually
but that cold blue ocean was a release
just ran in
clothed

I had a destination
just didn’t understand my journey
some things weren't so clear
but I knew how to get there, didn't I?
I knew how I wanted to go, OK?

7:30
May 12th
And despite the pitter-patter of morning rain
Enough dim light seeps through my blinds
That a stream of it reflects off my wooden floor
Piercing thoughts war morning’s haziness
So I shove open my window
And pull my white sheets over my head

Claude Debussy’s most popular piece quivers through my mind
One quiet evening
Two months past
Flitters by
My legs sting
Remembering your story

The bedtime concerts must be one of your favorite memories
Even then, with my head on your chest
Your heartbeat quickened

I picture your sleepy blue eyes
Watching your father
Move to his piano and play for you
His favorite fan
Claire de Lune is spine-tingling as is
But he’s good
He’s got talent
His fingers easily flutter over the keys
That piano is an extension of himself


MS
Stole part of him
He’s propped in a wheelchair
While Mom walked out
No longer a musician

You hate your mom.
Can’t understand why he still loves her
“Last time I cried I was 17.”

Why?

“Mom issues.
But I’m over it.”

Hungry for Something New

Died of starvation
Everything was insipid

Dissect this cadaver
And you’ll find
That my eyes could no longer see
And my skin could no longer feel
Ears couldn’t listen

Halfheartedly living this senseless life

What kills me is that
Apathy was my own choice

6:00 News

I yank the antennae to the left
Bursting through the static
I see Dick Goddard pointing to dark rain clouds
But I hear crackling, then Spanish
"Mi amor, yo quiero estar contigo."
Ridiculous double realities

Am I done or not?
Your mixed signals
Yield my indecision

Shall I tinker with these fickle antennae?
My patience isn't very stable
And this connection is proving shifty, too

Can't you see that I'm standing here
Desperately seeking clarity
Perhaps this station will never come in
And the next station over is clear.

Glass Cover

Put on your glasses, little fool
Your emotions are all over the place
Cover your tears with those metal frames
Glass barriers will cover your red, swollen eyes
You'll see better now that you're not drowning in self-pity
Removed, Focused, Blocked, Protected

Hello College

So I’m sitting there in 8:00 bio, right
DNA double helix—
Thanks Watson and Crick
But my mind’s drifting to summer
When I’m out of here

As much as I’m able to succeed in this collegiate atmosphere
I am aware that it’s contrived
Preoccupied with myself to get a “global perspective,” hmm?
Load of crap

Plastic Happiness

I ride my carousel
Atop this manmade beast
The world becomes a swirl
Faces and scenery snap by
I’m up then down
Everything is picturesque in this Monet world
I know, I’m far too impressionistic
Preoccupied with childish whims
Going only in circles
Such gaudy lies
Really, I should jump off

Fun House

I can't contain it any longer
I'm spewing my insides--vomitting on reflex
Skip the litmus this time
I know it's acid; it's burning my throat

I trusted a mirror I designed myself
and now there's no way out of this fun house
My distorted image is a useless guide
Stuck in an infinite corridor behind the glass

I thought time would heal this sickness
I thought I had actually changed
Guess I was too focused on myself
to realize how selfish I still am

Reflections of Truth

Self-reflection is somewhat skewed for me
It’s as illusory as a mirror
I find that the lettering on my shirt is backwards

So quick to judge others
Yet unable to adequately judge myself

My perception is only an interpretation
I want the truth

Heals

Girl in black high heals
Makes her way through Cleveland's freshly fallen foot of snow
Beauty is painful
Stupidity is painful

Old, Musty Quilt

Alone
Alone
Running alone
And it was a long day
No, a long year
Alone

That word is never far
But never admitted
Why utter what you cannot fix?

He left me that night
It was March 9th
Perfectly still I sat in our wretched apartment
My sons were in the next room
Two and four years old
He was done
I didn’t fight him
Just crumbled
Wrapped in that quilt on the puffy love seat looking at the dark wall
Watching his shadow throw the ring and take the keys
As he angrily freed himself from his life
My life
Our children's lives

Our love will last forever and ever
Even when we die we’ll be best friends in heaven
Isn’t there love in heaven?
We were oblivious to life
Sitting under that big sycamore tree by the pond
Eating our picnic lunch
My grandma’s quilt underneath us
Eyes looking up into the bright blue sky

It’s hard not to look back now

Bridge for Two

We've got the playing cards out again
They certainly pass the time
But aren't you tired of bluffing?
Let's break convention
Show our hands
A practice game, for clarity
We might have learned it differently
I forget some of the rules anyway
Okay. . . flip!

Hey, we both have hearts
I knew it

Great Things

I met this lunch lady in my school’s cafeteria
The sorta tired variety with little light
—the cafeteria, that is
I always get a wrap because I like this one lady who makes them
I don’t know her name, and every time I talk to her she asks for mine
I like that about her.

The other day she made a comment,
“I could never be doing great here, you know. But I’m okay.”
She smiled but that space between her eyebrows crinkled

I gave it some thought while I munched on my turkey wrap
She had surgery the other month and was in a lot of pain at work, standing
Withstanding for her son
So he can go to this college to study biology
Not making a name of her own
Just wrapped up in her son’s dream
All the while spilling light into this dingy cafeteria
Plopping down tomatoes and piles of ham
With smiles and stories

No, I decided
She is doing great here.

Wait

You stole the piece of my heart
That I cautiously protect
I put up a fight
The battle was between my insecurities and your stubborn charm
Insecurities, though, are quickly shot down by your own honest admission

You stole the peace of my heart
That, I cautiously protect
I put up a fight
The battle was between my expectations and our sensible decision
Expectations, though, are quickly shot down by your own honest admission