Bite Sized

Appetizer

My heart bleeds
And it breaks
And it shakes with earthquakes
And it’s all I can do to survive

Why do you keep feeding me lies?

Laureate

I have resigned myself to the fact that this thing I have done
I will continue to do
Despite my distaste for it’s label and classification
And that despite being depressed by it
(not that the depression hasn’t been a benefit)
My skill at this function has grown and spread into a talent
And I regret that this is the place I find success
But my mouth is open and this is the honey that drips
So if this is to be the one place that I find a finish line:
At least I can know I finished well.

To Say the Least

My harshness has not been mellowed with my coming of age
But rather turned to a glass-shattering note,
bleeding through the yellowed pages of my history book.

I remain a wretched person.

Aspirations

I meant to write a poem about the first night a city turned on its electric street lamps.
I didn’t find the time.

What I Wish I’d Told a Goth

“There are other colors” I do proclaim
Though I am faced with doubt
“Like blue, or green, or aquamarine” I do exclaim
Though none will hear me out

Cold-Shoulder Tolerance

My opinion of you?
That you’re a brick wall
That you do not listen when I speak to you.
That you hear a question and form a conclusion
Instead of giving an answer.

Mutter

Oh the Sad Sorrow of the Written Word and All the things i cannot Say.
Of Death and How i Love it.
Of how either You are Real or I Am but Never Both.
Of how i can live with being Lonely as long as in the End, when i am Gone, I will not be Forgotten.
Of how I long to Die, would love to Die, but am Terrified that there is an Afterlife i will Wake Up in.
Of how I long for you to Love me and so must Mutter these truths so you Cannot Hear and will not Stop.