It’s a new day.
The sun is shining
the birds are singing
there is promise in the air
What shall I do?
Shall I jump into my long to do list
with the vigor and energy
I feel this morning
Or shall I take a day for myself
and rest and try to heal
from my latest illness
that is depleting my energy
I love the blank slate of a new day
but there is a lot of pressure
as to how to spend it
in the best and most rewarding way
I think I shall savor the morning
and be grateful to be alive
on this new and hopeful
summer day
I was thinking I might be depressed
Not like real depressed people
Maybe I affect depression
When really it’s just despondent acceptance of my failure
Because
I grew up in the Golden Age
Where intimacy, freedom and good will
Somehow bloomed for just one brief moment
Before wilting in the barren heat of my
Selfish stupidity and my laziness
Because
In my mind here I’m writing a perverse parody of
My friend Diana’s poem (the poor kid still dies, just in an even funnier way)
And making cancer jokes
You gasp
And ask why, well
For comedy!
I always thought I was one and comedy always comes first
But
In these ashes it only matters
What I look like – the complete opposite of what I believe
It took 200 years for the flower to bloom
But just 50 to stomp it into the dirt and
Piss on it
i feel like my mom when i wear my sunglasses as a headband
and when i put on that baseball cap that was once hers
like my face and my comforter and my decor
when i’m with my friends
i don’t agree with their relationships
but i love their houses
we scream
“bring back the scene!”
even though i was barely alive when that was a thing
i wish i went to that diy show
for months i have been wanting to go
but i guess it’s for the best my friend went and broke her nose
“what’s up?” 4 non blondes is on
on the way to work
since i was young i’ve always had friends who were older
i feel like my dad when i let my floors pile high in the dining room at the front of the house
and when i fall asleep i leave the screens on bright and loud
when will i learn….i have so many incense burns and
i’ve got bruises on my thighs
and i sprayed perfume into my eyes
how many times can i break my foot and shatter my knee
“did you know you talk in your sleep?”
so do the friends next to me
you know what they say women love chatting
i swear it’s not me it’s the basil pesto that smells like weed
when i’m in the kitchen i feed my old cat cheese
and he purrs
i wonder if now i snore
because now i weigh more
Yes’r: Mexico is north of Holland
And Madrid is north of Sweden
Yep: Bagdad is north of London
And Bethleham is west of Santa Fe
Hear this now: Hebron is north of Verona
And Tolouse is east of Bangor
See What I mean: Egypt is north of Dublin
And Cuba is east of Moscow
Say what: Paris is south of Melbourne
And Panama is just east of Turkey
Brother: Queens is east of Rome
And Newfoundland is east of Nazereth
Sister: Glasgow is south of Gethsamene
And Canada is south of California
You getting this: Buffalo is east of Geneva
And Goshen is north of Austin
This one too: Macedonia is south of Ottowa
And Oxford is east of Arkansas
Hush now it’s true: Naples is north of Normandy
And Texas is north of Buckingham
Windsor is south of Warsaw
And Galveston is east of Zion
Boy, you’re in Kentucky now
She knew she was followed
His footsteps were in rhythm
With the srapy of water heavy against the rocks
Drip, step, drip, step
As a tree branch crunched
Dying under his heavy foot
She froze as if earth’s roots clung to her ankles
Shoulder creeping further up to the sky
Eyes glaring slowly back over her shoulder
He saw the singular tear escape her eye
“Why do you do this to me
Exude your anger to freighten me so,” she pressed
It was true he had followed her
As it was also true his anger was radiating
Hot like the sun that bounce off the water around them
But his intention was to make a point
That if he couldn’t have her
If he couldn’t be in the pleasure of loving her still
Then the threat of loving another
He would instill in her
No intention of harm
He wished not to betray her
He only wanted her to know
Loneliness would be a joint effort, not just singular to him
A clinched fist around the ax
Portrayed a different story to her
The guilt she felt of thinking
Leaving him was the wrong choice
“Please leave here
Leave me to the solitude amongst my safe haven
Away from you, away from what we were
No paid should be caused here”
Unwavering, he stood still
Eyes glaring, unmoved by her plea
“I do not want my ending to be now
By the hands of man that no longer loves me”
His head buzzed like the nearby woodbees
Dark clouds blurring his vision of the love lost in front of him
He realized he had gone too far
Away from the this ideal of his hurt feelings being known
“But what a beautiful way to go
Amongst the moss, my body beginning to decay
Into the forest floor
To become the canvas for flowers to begin their life.”
He stared in wonder
For fear was present
But she accepted a fate far from his goal
He loved her, and love is never to be feared?
As her head cast down like a crimial to the guillotine
He turned away from this idea
Guts turning into an acrid whirlpool
Tears of shame flooding his face
He ran, ax heavy by his side
The sound of snapping limbs echoing loudly amongst the rocks
She sank heavy on the ground
The moss her friend, and not her untimley grave
A butterfly rests on your cheek.
You wiggle your nose as you sleep,
a smile before you say my name.
Part of me wants to know your dream,
a part isn’t sure it’s a good idea,
but my heart says it doesn’t matter.
Here, in the field where we lie as one,
you smiled before you said my name,
and my heart laughs with gratitude.