Denali Should Have Won That Lip Sync
When giving too much
Is not ever enough, cry
For recognition
You remember learning to bleed politely in youth,
clean up before the janitor notices, never be gone
for too long idling in restrooms, refuse to waste towels
or the nurse’s time. So when it happened in private,
in the dark bathroom at home as the world slept,
you would take off the pressure. You would let the red
rivulet down paling arms and pool into the white sink,
droplets smeared across your face, clots in your teeth.
With cold satisfaction and a tired catharsis you’d bleed
for hours, never bothering to get a rag, savoring the sick
feeling of draining empty. The splatters on the blue walls
looked like the inverse of stars. All those stars would gather
on your cheeks and wrists and beneath the curve of your chin,
and afterwards you’d crawl into the duvet shaking, disgusting.
The dried blood would flake from your body, so that by morning
you were pristine again. No one could tell any different.
It feels like everyone is moving on
And I’m stuck here
Wrapped up, suffocating
Laying in bed wondering what I’ll do today
Everyone is finding their partner
Finding their home, making new friends
And I am so exhaustingly happy for them
But dammit I just want to feel selfish for a minute
Selfish that I lose precious time with them
Selfish that I’m not making the same choices
Selfish that I know it’s not my time for that
Selfish that I feel so alone yet so alive
living for people that ain’t here
gotta live for me
or i’m just gonna stay there
livin in the memories
i’m trying to honor
friendships sink
you were my harbor
now where i harbor the pain
was never about starving for fame
or tryin to farther your name
you ain’t give a fuck
you were scarring your veins
you ain’t missin much
still gotta carve out a lane
thanks to those
who paved the roads
you uncaged your soul
can’t break my soul
like brick and stone
don’t make a home
wanted to build you up with love
you could make your own
spilling my blood
‘fore i was grown
whatever makes you feel good
genetic fabric sewn
together by addiction
we’re all thrown
into this sick world to live in
all headed to the headstone
not much different
but you were different
most people already clones
gotta go get it
off the bounce like Eddie Jones
went MIA ’cause we got somethin better
that’s Kob(e)
takin over for the 99 and the 2 triple 0
smokin on that Diesel pack
but that’s just livin in the past
i can’t let it go
maybe that’s
cause you were still here with me bro
crystallized starch flakes
melt cheese, tomatoes, peppers
baked potato bliss
Thanks for the directions when
I had to turn around at the road block
where a car was turned on its top.
I noticed your holster bolstered on your hip,
your wife beater and boots, but mostly
I noticed your tattoos.
And although you were polite, our
interaction minimal, I knew
I couldn’t trust you, not really.
Not for any more than those directions.
I could tell you felt big going down the line of
cars to let them know the wait would be long
and to route us all around.
Take the old road, you said, and I imagine
that’s how you feel about a lot of things.
Victoria emerged from her
decade mourning to celebrate
Bertie’s recovery, but poor
Mary Todd arrived home that same
year with Tad, sickly, only for
July to take him home to be
with his two brothers & father –
her husband – & compound her grief.
Two Time Space Camp Attendee
Smug Teetotaler – Freshman Class, University of Evansville
Senior Who Misses a Lot of Class, University of Evansville
Twelve Year Drinking Binge Survivor
Five Time Sober Sam of the Year
Kentucky Colonel, Commisioned by Gov. Andy Beshear
Homeowner (Grand Prize for Best Manic Episode Ever)
World Heavyweight Wrestling Champion
Doctor Certified Pill Swallower
This Motherfucker Right Here
A friend of my mother
told her she was half Cherokee–
said her father rode with the James gang–
said he would steal a boat–
and float down Cumberland River to meet
them, and rob with them,
rustle cattle with them,
in Texas, even Mexico,
said Frank came to Kentucky–
driving a fine pair of bay horses–
riding in a new buggy
he bought with the $50,000 he won–
where–
the Kentucky Derby–
said he came to our county to claim
money they stole from a bank–
in Kentucky some years before–
said the man was supposed to keep it
until Frank came to pick it up–
said the gang member spend the money–
bought a farm with it–
said Frank killed him–
said the man’s family–
a well-known family yet lived
across Lake Cumberland–
would never say who he was….
After my mother’s friend died,
my research revealed one fact
about Frank.
He attended the Kentucky Derby once.
He won $50,000 dollars,
betting on the long shot
and won.
