Respite

Respite, some respite
When’s it going to come
Just a little awning
to duck beneath the sun

When it rains it pours,
my Mother used to say

Grew up too fast,
we grew up too fast
We forgot all of the fun
We learned to overthink

Remember, remember
Nothing lasts forever

My Last Confession

Over and over
and what is the point?

I lie down and practice
breathing
as if I forget how it’s done

Praying to nameless
that these chest pains
are only anxiety

I keep on doing it,
this living thing
Keep on continuing
because I do not
know anything else

And over and over
So what is the point?

Struggling to find the strength
to remove this mental blade
from my ribs

*** ***

Today is day 67 since my last drink.
It’s been 80 days since my last confession.

West Vine Press Sampler #6

WVPsamp

Cover image courtesy of Andrew H. Kuharevicz

It’s been quiet around here lately, but I am excited to announce some news: On Sept. 11, West Vine Press will publish my latest poetry book, titled Pancreatic Care Package. In the meantime, folks can get a preview of my book right now by purchasing WVP’s sampler. The paperback features poetry and prose from a variety of West Vine Press writers. Purchase here.

Half Moon

I never want
to escape dreams
in which I’m flying

why then do I wake
before I crash

I never want
to wake from dreams
in which I’m dying

why then that I live
to repeat sleep

it’s daytime
sun is shining
the moon is out

a half thumbnail
in the cloudless
blue sky

crow is cawing
skin is burning
skin is crawling

half moon is
a broken thumbnail
chipped from hard day’s wake

Not That Boy

I don’t know who I am

I am not that boy

throwing rocks
breaking eggs
casting stones
breaking glass

I am not that boy

with four eyes
fifth-grade disease
missing class
pissing pants

I don’t know who I am
or I simply forgot
or I never even knew
to begin with

what do I know
I don’t know shit

I forgot the face which
I mirror

I broke it
the mirror

just to see how far
the shards would go

I broke it
the mirror

complicated I am

I cracked it
the mirror

how flawed I am

I am not that boy

I am not that man

Malware

Off-kilter
unbalanced
I feel off-center

maladroit
malcontent
I feel maligned

sleep would be
the only way
to reset my mood

I can’t lie still
my world is spinning
away, out of control

out of sequence
unleashed
I feel out of sync

sardonic
insatiable
unable to say no

a slap in the face
would be a great way
to end this day

I can’t sit still
my head is spinning
away, I can’t hold on