Poetry

You might want to be a fly on the wall,

Discover what people really think,

What people say when you’re not around.

You don’t want to be a bug on the windshield,

I stood in the crowd 
My feet cemented to the ground 
Just basking in the light of something that would slowly fade 

I could hear the high pitched ringing 
A reminder of a past days sacrifice 

Every day — 

Monday through Thursday, 

starting at 2:30 pm, 

I grew wings. 

Peaking when reaching for the birdie. 

Gusts of wind and floods were my fuel to hit the

there's just so much I want to say, to pour out from me into you

but where to begin?

it begins home, at home, my head, the house, the lawn

the yard where I begin to understand how to be a human being

If curiosity killed the cat, then homo sapiens sapiens is closer to felis catus than humanity would like to admit, which is all the more reason to reach for new frontiers.

Dear World, 

Remember 
that everything you know 
was learned 
from someone who once 
wondered, 

and everything you do not know 
will vanish 

Were we glued together

like sticky, Japanese rice, 

our hearts

would've pulsed

in harmony

without a thought

for the other's

demise.

i begin 

unbroken,

round as the moon,

bright

with autumn,

heavy with seeds,

complete in 

my silence.

You picked me because I was             "perfect"-

you took me from my comfort spot,

my           home-

to put me on display for others to judge,

A room lit by one lamp, 
shoes next to a wireframe bed; 
an artist's home where art and time have made their stamp. 
A room lit by one lamp 
where the cozy gloom clamps 

Laying in a cardboard box

You grab me from all I've known

Across the dusty conveyor belt 

And into your car I go 

And with this I leave my life, my family, my temporary home

Avoidance.

And that's the thing

That drove you and I apart

That made the click less magnetic

Flipping the sides over

So we couldn't do it anymore.

I need to talk about it

To get it over with