Poem

9.4.20 - letters without addresses #1

Hey there, Psyche. Damn, I know it’s been forever 
Decades passed in silence, then only a shitty letter 
Though they say an asshole never really recovers 
This ass hopes you found far better friends and lovers  
Whisky brown hair, brilliant smile, the fairest blue eyes 
Sharper and brighter than all the stars in Southern skies 
Just one second, this ain't one of them pining love songs 
More a long-waiting tattered lists of souls I’ve done wrong 
One bad night, drunkenly convinced I’d been strung along 
I became another toxic creep, another entitled hard-on
Flashes of trembling hands, tears took up shop in my head  
But I blacked out enough to not remember what all I said
 When really you needed a best friend, not a jealous loser 
Instead, I walked away, wanting only to not exist to you 
It’s been years since then, paid in therapy reckonings
Took a while to learn, romance starts by looking within  
But still, what’s worse, digging up the past or living lies 
What hurts, late-offered amends or broken goodbyes 
For a victim, how long makes it too late to apologize? 
Male-privileged obsession is just intimidation in disguise  
So, years later, here’s the truth that only matters now 
The important thing I hope I one day get to say to you 
If allowed, I have random chance and courage to do 
Psyche, you deserved better than I ever gave to you  
My selfish words and actions burned our bridges 
There aren’t any good reasons you should forgive 
’Sides, justifying turns into gaslighting before long 
I’ll move along, just sorry that I hurt you. I was wrong

8.20.20 - Pandemic Sonnet #1

Hot rain pounded on square, concrete tombs
Our opinions overrode data, famous last words
For single-pained souls across a gasping globe
In empty classrooms, ghosts talked to screens
Smiled and pretended that everything was clean
Science toiled cures, scrubs-clad martyrs screamed
Scholars silenced, pleaded safety not guaranteed
Wise words twisted, gathering dust on toxic pulpits
Whilst pious, fat hypocrites proudly flouted lessons writ
In their treasured, leatherbound, ancient moral scripts
Pride becameth Fall for faithless worshipping a Con’s greed
Falsely-winged devout demanded sacrifice, so blinded
They offered up children to a righteous Death Cult idol
Blame for self-evident sins falls upon poisoned, Holy men


*notes and such
Two lines I liked but couldn’t figure out how to tweak and use. I still think this needs some re-arranging, but it needs to get out of my head for a while.

Omens in six-foot deep ends justified by green means
Foreshadowed in testing, autopsies backdated two weeks,


7.1.20 - Pandemic Poetry #2

We all scare, a little, here
Crowded, breadcrumb beds
That sound, light, or touch
Would drown tearful fears
This pain that clings to us
Memories on a slow burn
Hollowed out the dreams
Years repeat in night’s sleep

I make my last rounds during the witching hours
Check the locks, tiptoe past all my sleeping wards
Still, toiling away during the quiet night creeps
While in the bedroom shows stream in hopes of
Crowding out their darkest remembered dreams
They breathe slowly and softly cry out in the dark
One last race before I lay down my worried head
Dreaming of apex turns instead of counting sheep