Apr 17

runnin' on empty

i keep on
typing things
and pushing backspace
erasing them
from existence
my words these days
don't seem to come
to life
it's not even
that i don't have the ideas
taking pictures
but not developing them
piling up
pressure on myself
it's just that my brain's
pooped
i might even erase this
i never really know
all it takes is a
simple
ctrl a, backspace
moving backwards
languishing in a 
motivation drought
once a leaky faucet
the well has long gone dry
maybe washed my hands
too much
too fast
now sahara dry
no water to spare
not even to cry
in pure despair
feeling empty
yawning up at the sky
as if howling
screaming
but not having
the voice
i'm tired
and
i don't understand
what's changed
pressing my hands against
my forehead
runnning a hand
over my face
Apr 16
poem 0 comments challenge: Haiku

Cracked Screen

Apr 15

Words of Wisdom

A chalice
of cheap plastic
with peeling gold paint
Beckons me

Folded slips
fortune cookie hearts
On the podium
The sign reads
Words of Wisdom

Squeezing my eyes tight
Until darkness becomes
swimming color
afraid curiosity 
will pry them open

My touch is met
by creamy paper
each one whispering
pick me, pick me
a fingertip brushes along their edges

My wandering fingers
finally capture a slip
The spell is broken
The slip reads: 
"You have something to say, I promise"

After weeks
Spent wedged between pages
Of a random notebook
It flutters to my bedroom floor
defying gravity for just a second
Before kissing the smooth wood

Curious
Glancing at the laptop screen
my own words of wisdom
typed neatly in Arial
to comfort
a fellow young writer

Fate,
Apr 14
poem 2 comments challenge: Belong

Teal embrace

I imagine
a world that accepts all
and takes anyone into
its teal embrace,
where everyone has a place
they can call home,
everyone is equal,
on the same level
in the same house,
ctrl c and ctrl v,
with a working toilet
that flushes,
a sink 
that doesn't leak,
a kitchen
where the stove's
not a fire hazard,
a bed and a couch -
let's throw in a TV -
and for the most part,
your house 
is what you make of it
and you aren't afraid to go up
to that neighbor whose garden
is the envy of the neighborhood,
fruits of labor
from many months
of kneeling in the dirt.
You will say, "Howdy."
She will say, "Good day."
And as you ease into
simple conversation,
all in the world
will be as it should.

But of course
it is only
a simple daydream
of a girl
stuck at home
staring out a window
Apr 13

Dead Wonderings, Ghosts

Isn't strange
how we only fear ghosts
when it's dark?
theoretically
if they're real
(which, 
although I am inclined 
to say they are,
is up for debate)
they're around all the time
shivers up my spine
just typing that
in broad daylight
but at night
when I thought
about someone 
something
watching
judging
I hid under my covers
As if heavy warmth
and assuring embrace
could protect me
from the world
I don't know if I believe
in ghosts
and sometimes 
I don't know
whether I believe in
anything
So when the ignorant adults asked
what do you want to be
when you grow up
and are like me?
The answer was always
I don't know
even though
I do know.
I want to be
successful
happy
kind
free
A typical
dream
and most of all
unafraid
but fear is what makes one
Apr 13

Stifling Silence

cellphone chimes
vibrating and singing
a different tune
but every time the same
scream for attention
from someone
somewhere
not here
not important

left unanswered
waits for it to pass
settling in the room
his mere presence
sharpens every sound
rush of water
clack of keys
rustle of paper
whoosh of heat
all fading
into
him

together, alone
alone, together
lost noise
feels like
a gaping hole
pain allows focus
glaring blemishes
flaws that apparate
he pushes me
new levels
of perfection

midnight
feasts on my heart
hushed voices
gnaw at my chest
he is an
all-consuming spell
won't, can't
break
festers outward
pure lonliness
no sound
no
crickets

too

Apr 12

April Showers

Apr 09

DELLY (with a side of penguins)

I can't remember how me met
so I like to make up fantasies
Because for some reason 
it feels important
to know the beginning of our story
Even if
it's only the start 
I pretend to know

I'd like to think we're soul sisters
And perhaps in another life, twins
maybe we met in orchestra
but I don't think that's it
Was it our passion for reading
where we had a friend version
of a "meet cute" in our school's 
ridiculously tiny library?
Or was it that class we had together
in which we rarely talked at first
because I was constantly
living in a book
and you had your own friends?
I honestly can't remember

What I do recall is
when we played a whole game of scrabble
and you spelled "deli"
D-E-L-L-Y
but nobody batted an eye
until a boy came up as class ended
and said "what the heck is that?"
it was the joke of the week
Apr 08

Just ask the hormones

It's five in the morning,
we've binged the past four nights
and the end has finally come.
The theme music plays
one last time
and I'm crying
fat, rolling tears,
heart in tatters,
despite the fact
that there's been a happy ending.

Exusing myself to the restroom,
breathing
in and
out,
I watch a tear
inch down my face 
leaving a shining trail
in its wake.
I swipe at it
trying
to pull myself together.
I look into the mirror,
startling myself,
laughing aloud
when I see 
what an ugly mess
my face is,
breathing
in 
and out.

Oh my gosh, what happened to you?
Mom chuckles
when she sees my face.

Grinning, I joke,
Ask the hormones.

And we both start cackling,
peals of laughter
bouncing off the walls.
It's a terrible joke,
but it's the best you'll hear
Apr 07
poem 7 comments challenge: Wistful

Penny Picker-Upper

I've been tossed in tip jars
by soft manicured hands
Flung into fountains
by whispering dreamers

Hundreds of footsteps
Trekked along the sidewalk
All of their owners
Too busy bustling 
To take the time to pick up
A mere penny

Abandoned on the pavement
The scorching rays of sun
made my copper glow
And there I sat
waiting

Until one day
a little girl spotted 
Abe Lincoln's shiny head
and saw treasure

Pinched between chubby fingers
An ebullient smile
Presented to a mother
I felt brand new again

The lady patted her head,
Sweetie, how wonderful
And my little girl
Was over the moon

A lucky penny
She murmured reverently
And I felt love 
emanating off of her

watching and listening
the very next day
from a snug jean pocket
Daddy, Daddy

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