Untitled i

You steep yourself in joy

The moments warmly melt together

Until your smile clicks into automode

And you realize there’s only so much of another’s joy you can handle when you are hurting inside.

Their joy gushes forth and

envelopes your willing heart

but it makes the sinkhole larger…

It makes the hole gnaw away faster

making its gaping maw even larger

you helplessly taste the bitter tinge of woe mix with the sweetness of the time

Your conscience flails in the viscose goo of regret…

And you steel yourself against the tears that prick you with insistence

Because it horrifies you that

you could ever besmirch their rightful joy.

am i thought?

just for fun, when writing the piece “lit/unlit” light was the word that rushed forth…

a word
rushes forth
at every chance
“am i needed?
“am i sought?”

it repeats itself
like a child recites
“can i or can i not?”

shamelessly
pandering
clumsily
meandering
teasing forgetfulness
like it wants to be caught

but ever ready
with a toothy grin
“am i needed?
how ’bout now?
am i thought?”

meant

tainted thine typed out tryings
verbage together litter a page
what more is there but lesser whats
riffled through and written out

as rejected
over confidence over
rhythm somewhere lost
devices to lie have proven true in their bitter lies
meaning yet means to change
to whatever it meant to matter