Some Days (or Tabula Rasa)

Some days
I want to smooth it all out,

Ground myself into untouched flour
or virgin snow,
Stretch my body across a canvas
until I am formless,
A rightly scorned mess

Some days
I am smooth and untouched,
Untouchable,
Cold as a distant star
and shatterproof

But some days
I am too rough for time,
Do not bend into its grooves
Or surpass the old rhyme.

Some days
I am more night
Than day,
More likely to say
What I don’t mean
But felt was right
At the time

And some days
There is light on my
Windowsill,
Light with my pillow
Propped up,
Right there
Touching my cheek

But some days
Some days

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What’s in a Name?

Anxiety gives me anxiety.
The very word

Grabs you by the horns,
Wrangles you into submission.

A moth with black
Horsehair wings,

The flutter of a heartbeat,
Once static,
Now a deep sea tremor.

Anxiety,
Printed bold on the bow
Of a ship.

She is an empty vessel,
Her head
Just above the waterline.

Poe’s golden bug:
Once bitten,
Forever shy.

To itch
An old wound.

Purgatory

But it’s that lovely day today,
Sorry for the inconvenience
Sorry for the inconvenience and
Sorry for the inconvenience caused.

I’m not going to be so utterly mesmerised,
Sorry for the delay,
Sorry for the inconvenience
Sorry for the inconvenience caused.

 

[Created using Android’s predictive text system.]

Selfless

Why can’t I think it?

Hell, why can’t I say it?

Look. I’ll try.

I

Look

Like a human today.

No

That just won’t do.

But I can’t believe it

Unless it’s uttered

By you.

I’ll try again

Wish me luck.

My

Body

Is

Of

This

Earth

And

I

Should

Be

Content

With

That.

Gravitas

Head-on
Walks
With real purpose

He’s about to change the world

If you let him.

Back arched
Salvaging our
Dignity
He is peace
He is gravity

In his kingdom
There are no
Servants
To sweep the debris
From his path

Chases trash
Down the street
Runs it out of town
Makes it wish
It had never been born

Cannot figure out
How it all goes
Unnoticed
It’s beginning
To climb itself

Head-on
Eyes down
He just wants them
To see
What he has always seen.

hanker

salt beef on a
plain bagel,

hot mustard,
damp pickles,
I barely tasted
any of it.

the beef was tough,
the mustard stung
my fingers,
I wanted to cry some more
but didn’t have it
in me.

fuck the diet,
I want carbs.
I want fat and salty
ruin.
I want my veins
to pump syrup
until that sugar coma
hits hard,
hits home
and then keeps on
throwing punches.

salt beef
that refused to shred
between my teeth,
mustard that stained
my shirt.
a faint heat that
threatened to distract me
for one sumptuous
moment
but could not work its magic
on my coward soul.