Let it

I feel tricked.
I feel used.

I saw the pretenses fade.
I saw the act tiring.
I saw the gestures become absent.
I saw the eyes glass over.
I saw the disinterest grow.
I heard the words simply said
Because it was too much trouble
Not to say them at all…
Yet their edged weariness told me so.

I feel fooled
But no one fooled me….more than me.

I think
I’m just going to let this eat me alive.

What goes unsaid

I can hear myself

Convincing you

Convincing me

My earnestness strains

To be heard

To be accepted

To quiet my mind of doubts

To quiet your tongue of questions

I repeat myself

Tasting the words

Chewing them over

Letting them spill forth


Letting the pauses

Speak of surety

Letting my gestures spell out confidence

Waiting out your nods

Searching your smiles

For satisfaction or smirks

Weighing all the segues

And praying for a tangent

A providential interjection


Lost in our own ways

We are all lost in our own ways.
Another’s pain bewilders more:
A dirgeful anguish.
A keening whine.
Slices cleanly.
Its sting evident:
Only when the air whispers its concern

Its rubious tears
well warmly repenting.
And the Ruinous trudge on
Their sorrows ceaseless
Their bitterness unwavering
Ruthless, Relentless
That we are all lost in our own ways.

Bleeding dry

I do not know how blood
Can be so poisoned?
How it would rather bleed dry
Then flow together
How it would destroy itself
Then realize its worth
How it refuses to see
It cannot survive on its own
Nor has it ever done so.

How it wants to overpower all
Yet does not know how
And all its attempts lead to more misery

How it does not see the way it ruins itself
And everything with it?

A corroded cell
wreaking a path of rot and pain
Because it does not want to be apart of something bigger and better than itself.

I do not know how blood
can be so poisoned?


We say so many things that we wish
No one will hold us to
To sound wise
To be helpful
To soothe pain that has its place
To soften blows that have been deserved
To pick up pieces that needed to be shattered
Hindering a stronger mosaic
Waiting to be created
And yet in our rush to comfort
We give the hand still bleeding
a knife to further sever
We give a heart  trying to hear
its own voice
a cheery ultimatum
We judge and conclude before we let the broken ever have the time to heal…


What comes routinely

Takes what it will for granted

Contemptuous familiarity

What is spoken as compromise

What is white-lied into agreement

What is put up with, without knowing

At times weighs immensely

And at times smugly congratulates

Itself on keeping the wheels turning...