LAUGHING AT MY NIGHTMARE

Spoon

Perhaps…

being comfortable,

in its truest form,

has little to do with actual comfort,

and everything to do

with having someone

to share your discomfort with.

Tell me what you think! Not sure how I feel about it yet.

Last Supper

My cat Roxy caught a baby blue jay last night,
despite being fed a gourmet spread
served on a platter, finely shredded.

She mauled the mangled mass of
bright blue feathers dripping dark red;
almost not alive, yet not completely dead.

Desperately chirping with a broken beak,
feeling its skin pulled apart
by claws and teeth,

Deserted on the doormat to die,
the pulverized pulp of the once baby bird,
searched for answers with its one remaining eye.

Then it stopped breathing and I
could have helped, but didn’t even try;
too consumed by images of my own demise.



Roxy and I are a lot alike I find;
I don’t care for the taste of blood,
but I can be ruthless from time to time.

There’s an elephant in the room

and he’s staring at you

daring you to make your next move

He knows you’ve got nothing left to lose

What are you going to do?

I’ll ride this wave of happiness

until I hit land

then I’ll grab my board

and paddle out again.

I write shitty poetry when I get sad/frustrated/angry. I’ll share some of them with you, they’re kind of embarrassing. This one is the earliest one I saved (like a year ago):

The darkness is suffocating at night
sifting through my mind
making sense of these feelings
this is a losing fight

Endless hours pass away
people think that I’m insane
but the first time I heard her voice
I knew I’d never be the same

This will never work
too many obstacles stand in our path
my brain knows it but I laugh
cause there’s no way in hell my heart is believing that

I want to scream but reality makes the air thick
and I’m known for my ability to be optimistic

Who gives a fuck what is right
she screams my name
and this won’t be the last time
cause these dreams haunt me every night
the sun continues to rise