Burden

There’s this space in my chest

that fills me. 

Existing heavily and thoroughly.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep 

making me crazy. 

My body existing around the abyss,

paradoxically consumed by its essence.

Inside of me but not of me. 

Of me, but my dreams are not part of the recipe.

My dreams absorbed or worn like skin, but just the beginnings survive. 

The ends may yet live in the blackness or just beyond it.

Inside of my hollow chest is weighted nothingness. 

Or inside of the hollow nothingness, I exist? 

How can one know if in the abyss? 

I’ve never known how to point to something

that was formless. 

I cannot wait to breath, yet all I do is wait for the next inhale. 

I want silence, but everything screams it’s presence. 

I want love but would settle for contempt.

I want peace but would settle for adrenaline. 

I want meaning but would settle for the end of it. 

Spitting bars about the end of it.

Whispering I just want a friend in it.

The War I Wage

I’m lost in oily skin

and unkempt hair.

No visitors and dirty dishes

a reminder that I’ve retreated.

I’m found in the energy

of a hot shower

and blowdryed ends.

I’m lost in my living room,

without a book, or even a friend,

pajamas from two days ago

slung over my tired figure.

I’m found in the sunlight… 

in the wind.

At the beach, sand on my skin.

Laughter of my son

the joy expressed

at water’s cleanse.

I’m lost in worry,

night time trails

my mind frequents.

Pissed off at empty spaces of clutter

and the all consuming darkness,

Broken record of things

I should and shouldn’t have started.

I’m found in the morning,

jasmine tea hot 

next to my tasteless plate. 

In the fight for happy

that comes every single day. 

Would you like me on my knees or back?

He meant to fuck me

And I meant to love him

I took off my clothes

Knowing that only one of our needs

were being met

I told myself not to hope

Just move your hips back and forth

Like you love the smell of his sweat 

Moan as if he gives you 

Life with his breath

Breathing out slow and ragged

Do not ask for more than he gives

Never wish to be his

Don’t hold your breath 

waiting to be called beautiful

Lest you die an early death

That’s what I tell myself

That my hopes,

My wishes,

Should be swallowed back

A lump in my throat

Tastes like him

Can I get a drink of water?

“It’s in the kitchen 

With your shoes and coat”,

He says…

Drive safe on your way back home

Asleep in his bed

before I’ve shut the door behind me