vanishing made easy

THE WOLF IS GIVING BIRTH
Cries of anguish, a
coat of blood.
It's here,
the newest member
of a long-hated line.


CHRISTMAS TREES
I've grown to loathe christmas trees.
They're not for me, nor my faith,
yet each year they worm their way into my home,
an unnecessary addition to
a life already too frivolous.

ISOLATION MADE EASY
When we stop speaking, no one's to blame.
I wish I could be mad at you, at anyone but me.
When the gravity of it sinks in, I turn my anger inwards.
I'd chew off my own leg to escape these emotions.
I'm angry for your absence,
for the fact that I've had to survive at all.
What is my world without you?
Is this what dependence is like.

WHEN THE WOLF COMES HOME
I'm not sure how they see me,
but I doubt it's as their son.
Perhaps one day, when
I have teeth and claws,
I will be.

BEARTRAP
I'd chew my leg off to
escape this.
But the bear-trap brings
hunters, brings saviors,
brings safety,
and there is nothing that
I want more.

Unlearning is a long,
tedious process,
One which i find myself trapped within.
That place made me less than complete,
Less than human, perhaps?
I wonder,
Can a wolf ever
Become a dog?


DEER ON A FROZEN LAKE
Certain of its way,
It skates across the ice
Hooves meet
Sand and
it
runs
free

THINGS YOU SAID (WHEN DRUNK)
I imagine you
taste of
cigarettes, and
cheap liquor.
(You said as much)

RIVERSIDE
Someday,
When this is over,
Take me to the river
and
drown
me

LOVE, FALLING OUT
When did you fall out of love
with me?
After I went away?
During my absence?
Or before?
I hope it was after, or during,
I never wanted to trap you, with
guilt and a poor mental state.

It’s hard to write without thinking about you,
or about what we wrote.
I don’t know how many webs we’ve weaved.
Somewhere along the line, I lost track.
Our stories are long-forgotten,
shoved away into corners of drawers.
We spent our childhoods behind screens,
typing our lives away.
Now, on the cusp of independence,
we do the same.
I do not regret it.
Do you?


1 — Conforming has never been easy, but neither has rebelling. I slip underneath the waves with a practiced ease and disappear beneath them.
2 — Red hot anger boils beneath my skin, a constant reminder of myself. I pour my pain into every punch, hitting the bag as if it’s the source of it.
3 — They turn a blind eye and let them take hold. My sight grows clearer to the cruelty of the world.
4 — A stolen childhood should piss me off more, but all I can be angry about is the fact that I’ve stepped in dogshit. 

COFFEE CUP CONSCIENCE
Hazy thoughts, and
a dull, barely-there headache.
light but not enough,
like a heavy rain cloud’s in my chest.
Coffee lingers on my tongue,
bitter and sweet in good measure,
but not good together.

It’s my own fault
no-one forced me to drink it,
but this feeling is familiar and comforting.
It settles around me like a fog,
not quite cold or hot,
but not quite normal either.

DAFFODILS
They pop up every spring,
and each time i swear that
they’re calling out to me


SUMMER SNACKS
Summer camp lunches are snatched away,
and breakfast is forgotten.
Food is not scarce but it is not plentiful
and my summers became:
clover blossoms and wild onions,
crabapples and berries I can’t name.