#poetscavern
I checked my tea,
To see if anything
Had died in there
A drowned gnat or two
Is just extra protein—
A small reprieve
To gloomy boredom
Catch me spilling stars
Across floorboards
Like glitter specks,
They dash around
Impossible to kill
You have to wait
For them to dry up
And become black holes
Fuck them anyways,
Useless ornaments
Writers love them too much
They’re wishes,
They’re tears,
They’re hopes,
They’re nothing to me—
I swear it upon my soul
I speak of them
With exasperation
Stars sicken me
Them and their likenesses
Are etched too deep
—They ruin my dreams,
And stop my sleep
Measure my dreams in grains of sand
A thousand nothing more than
The worth of a single pebble—
In the belly of a ravenous koi
The night is illuminated
By the blue light
Of my computer screen
Blazing into my brain
Wrenching out my fears
Grown hot in the dark
My hair is still damp,
The shampoo smell
Sinking into warm fabrics
Joining the evidence
Of other late nights—
Quiet nights—
By weakly typed poetry
My fingers feel old
Tired and worn
—And by four o’clock,
They await certain doom
Flowers before dusk
Curling from darkness,
How you shrink
So timidly inward
You fill yourself
With seas of fears
Though occupying
Minimal space
I would
Kiss your petals
If you
Loved me
I gathered people like dewdrops
Collect upon a lonely leaf
They were made in the clouds
Of pollution and acid rains
I beckoned and waved—
The wind forced my hand
Yet upon my lonely branch
Ne’er a hopeful bird did land
Only dewdrops grew
Little parasitical things
They burned and ate
And I turned yellow with grief
Pocked with holes
In sickly sheen
Suffer blue skies
Dart games in the dark
Poison slipped
into white paper cups
Flowers spilled
Their petals splayed
Like droplets of blood
Cry a small stream
In a foggy shower
Hate inanimate things
For not having to feel
Despise cumulus clouds
Then cry some more,
This time with rain
Soaking your socks
Then you can
Be dramatic in the bathroom
Wet hair dripping
Eyeliner name:
Spooky clown
Because you love to
Wrap depression
In a romantic flurry
And
Your conscience
Becomes a blur
