The Most Obvious Secret I Keep

I’m a catastrophe

Speaking in hyperbole

And worst of all

I want the world to listen to me

Because I can’t be

The only one who can see

I can’t be the only one

With this life sentence

Who has decided they are worthy

Of punishment

Of penance

I’m not the only one

Taking the easy way out

Because I can’t hurt others

But I can hurt myself

Someone once said to me

You wouldn’t recognize it if you saw peace

And I wouldn’t

I know passion

I know impatience

I know rage

And I know the love

That comes with a blank page

But I can’t equate

Living

With serenity

So here is another calamity

A chemical imbalance

A fallacy

Another extreme

That turns into an emergency

I beg for respite

But I will never take it

It will always be the height of ecstasy

Or the depths of despair for me

With bouts of terror in between

And sadly or perhaps not

I doubt I would change it

If I could

Don’t mistake this for unhappiness

Recognize

That it is the comfort

Of a damaged child

Who will never grow up

Letter to my Younger Self

From the beginning

You got miniscule

Amounts

Of the love you needed

So it was no surprise

That that abandonment

Turned into rebellion

Surrounded by sickness

You cried

You screamed

But nothing could kill

 Your compassion

Your empathy

Like that Christmas

When there was no tree

So you hung lights from the walls

You found family where you could

Clinging

Perhaps a little too desperately

To your friends

But somehow you survived

Even when you looked around

And saw everything as dying

Even when the only way

That you knew how

To feel alive

Was to bleed

If I could send this letter

Back in time

I know that

You would not believe a word

Because that life

You lived

 Seemed like

Some merciless eternity

But I am here to tell you kid

We made it

We escaped

We flourished

And best of all

We found our voice

Take comfort kid

We survived

And we never have to go back

To those days

When tears trumped laughter

We are loved

We are lovable

Thank you

I would have never

Become this person

Without you

The World’s Most Frizzled Toothbrush

Your poetry always manages to tough me in unexpected ways. Your style so different than mine makes questions arise in my mind like the dawn.

Jason Preu

The man stands
in front of his bathroom window,
holding the world’s most frizzled toothbrush;
toothbrush with bristles
like an electrocuted tribble.

He keeps
one grey eye
on the house
across the street
and that one window
with a light
that never goes out,
that never casts
any shadow
across drawn, pale,
yellow curtains.

He keeps
his other grey eye
on his toothbrush’s gnarled reflection,
frayed bristles
lighting up
like a fiber-optic tree
with every car
that drives by.

The bristles shift
in color
from ripe banana
to blank paper
to open wound
to healing scar.

He considers
walking
across the street,
knocking
on the door,
inquiring
about that never-darkened room.

He considers
replacing
that grizzled toothbrush;
considers
upgrading
to a plaque-annihilating model.

The man
turns off
his bathroom light
and purposefully
brushes his teeth
bathed in headlights
of passing cars.

He spits
into a dark hole,

gazes
across the…

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Small sins

This is something I relate to on a fundamental level. Brave, honest, and woderful.

Rainbows and storms

These small sins

 covered with fragile excuses

That hurt every moment

That I regret with every breath

But they are a part of me

And I feel that

I will be empty without them

These small sins that are

much more closer to me

than my good deeds.

View original post

Superhero

I spoke to a man casually

We talked of things that seemed

Mundane

But strangely

Wisdom

Made its way

Into this benign exchange

I said that I was sure

That something was temporary

And without pause

He said

Most things are

We live in a society

Of hyperbole

Where everything

Is forever

From love affairs

To family

To even our own lives

Where we deny mortality

But this man goes on to say

Mortality

Is enlightening

I am taken aback

That the death

That almost claimed him

Let him live life more fully

The worst nightmares

That we hide under the covers from

Have come for him

And he looked them in the eye

Defeated them

And said

You are only temporary

An Introvert’s Cage

Jack be nimble

Jack be quick

Jack ended up in a strait jacket

This old man he played nine

He played nick knack on my spine

Just stay calm repeat the rhymes

Maybe no one will notice

That I exist

 

Please stop

Making small talk

This city is too big

There are too many

What ifs?

I am surrounded

I must get out

 

I must escape the words

That fall from undead mouths

Before I begin to feel their bite

And I become one of them

 

I must return

To my room

Where my dreams

Protect me

Where my safety

Is solitude

 

 

Why have I always felt

That this world wrong?

Trapped in the cage

That most would call freedom

It may leave me alone, aloof, and estranged

But I would rather be a blank page

Than one filled

With senseless dialogue

 

I long for the twilight

When the sunlight stretches too long

 

 

 

They say that my definition

Of perception

If flawed

I smile and nod

Aware that perception

Is what has lead me here

Constant explaining

People draining

Me of every energy

Until solace is all I seek

 

For this the majority

Think that I am as mad as a hatter

 

Leave me alone in this place of creation

I will emerge upon occasion

But not because I need validation

Not because I have the slightest

Desire to join the human race

Where we all run until

Our deaths

 

 

We all live in prisons

Of our own making

And once created

They are almost impossible to

Escape

 

But maybe it’s the ones

That disobey

That at the end of the say

Sleep soundly

The Endless Race

I don’t know why but I feel like I should reblog this.

Iconoclastgrey Word Artist

The Endless Race

We brave the day to day

Coffee made

The route to work is the same

Someone says

“How about those Mondays huh?”

You smile but repress rolling your eyes

You go to your desk

And think about how everyone in this building

Will someday die

Call it ennui

Or the desire to become a mercenary

Because this rat race is tiresome

And no one has ever won

The American dream in an automaton

And we all march in line

Redundant

Repetitive

Shocking in its routine

We are simply sheep

Some of us are black

Or wolves wearing the masses skin

But no matter

We are all searching for that shiny moment

That shooting star

That burns though the atmosphere

And makes it all worth while

We just want something honest

Another day

Coffee made

The route to work is the same

View original post

The Way Home

Tattered pages

Folded in the corners

To show where we paused

Where we went back to real life

Bookmarks

Bent and creased

From loving hands

That seek to find their place

For us these are portals

They are doors

That allow us

To go back to the worlds

That we love

To live a million lives

To know more

Than we ever knew we could

They are windows to inspiration

They are snapshots of heartbreak

Places where we left off

When the page became tear stained

Only to return and cry again

What beauty would be added to life

If only we could stop the story

If even for a moment

To absorb

To revel in love and life

And even loss

A bookmark is home

A place that we may return to

Always

And never be turned away

Glory to the tattered pages

Of our lives

Mirage

I remember being a child

And walking around

The residential area

Of my small town

Immediately I thought

I don’t belong here

But even more

I never want to be here

This is not my American Dream

I grew older

And now

As I look around

All I see

Are people living

The American Nightmare

Whether that means

            Bars on your windows

Or a tendency

Towards

Anomic suicide

Someone lied

When they told us

That this was a fantasy

Come true

The American Dream

Is brain dead

It has gone so long

Without new life

That it is beyond resuscitation

We need not ask ourselves

Why?

What we should ask

Is this

Did it ever really exist?

She

I have seen her falter where I thought she would succeed

I have seen her become stubborn

With a will like stone

When I had hoped

That she would bend

She is so mercurial

So unpredictable

Like the wind

Like the water

She is a summer storm

Only more uncontrollable

I say this even when

I call myself mercurial

She is a contradiction

Dark but sheltered

Brave but fearful

Rebellious but polite

I say this when

I call myself a contradiction

She wins

Which would suit her

Because she is sometimes

Needlessly competitive

She is a lovely mess

So am I

I wonder if

She will read this

And become angry or upset

Not realizing that

Although I see her flaws she is loved

Because we cannot hope

To hide our imperfections from the world

Whether someone sees one or many

They are seen

All that we can hope

Is that we will meet people

Who will see our defects

And still think we are

Worthy of their loyalty and love