Pretty Sure

 To Sincerity,

 Just listen

to the music

and you will see-

how life is NOT

all it’s cracked up to be.

I am without a care

unless I’m being careful.

Can you be too careful?

Yes, and no too, an achoo

and a bless you.

I love you and I hope

you love me too.

I’m Pretty Sure you do.

Nonsense

 He said he was broken

with or without his sobriety.

I’m left to listen to the drivel

and aftermath

of every bad decision

he laid out to me.

I tell him the truth,

dare to make him see

why his words are complete

Nonsense to me.

To him:

I do not think.

I cannot think.

I am brainless.

I am spineless.

The Snake

 I’ve been alone

for a long time, kid.

Manipulation,

sexual deviation.

A man of few words

crept his way in

-to my personal sin. . .

A concept of innocence

destroyed by

The Snake of curiosity

in a place of thinning faith.

I’m Unable

 I’m thinking so hard I can’t listen.

In the moment I’d like to laugh

-but reality won’t allow it.

Steep in seriousness,

in deep trouble,

rather be safe than sorry.

Yet I’m Unable to get over myself,

to speak properly,

be heard.

Feeling forced into a corner,

crying out for other options,

because some things could be avoided.

Side Effects

 Taking the moments as they pass

in a place where control

is thinning in my face. . .

What a disgrace, 

I am taking place

in the madness.

A therapeutic level

of Side Effects

and I try to be direct.

The fear takes hold,

I cannot be labeled

as uncooperative.

I want everything to work out

as I lie to myself.

I must be wrong

and unworthy of the chance

to be well by choice.

Within The Walls

 I don’t care about history.

I don’t care about science.

I don’t care about statistics.

I don’t care about studies.

I don’t care about intervention.

I care about convention.

I care about personality.

I care about simplicity.

I care about creation.

I care about the moment.

If I ever felt a listening ear lost, it was there

Within The Walls that were meant for healing.

So I’m still left dealing

with an unstable feeling.

The remedy for the remedy,

he said to me, is chemical.

Pills formed in an amber bottle

that created the problem to begin with.

A Bob Ross Mountain

 We need to have crazy moments,

so the brain,

it towers with the trees,

and travels through rifts in time.

A scenic ravine with a few

floating alien brains with tentacles.

They’re finding a peaceful way

to take over outer space.

A Bob Ross Mountain.

Oh boy!

A happy little tree!

Those squid brains look so free.

Yet they’re surprisingly reminiscent

of a burning giraffe,

or the elephant on stilts,

or the blue woman propped up

on her crutches,

dangling her offering.

She’s a far cry from

the famous melting clock.

Give One Up

 My limbs are all I have,

and I’ll pass on

luxurious commodities

in case I have to Give One Up

to meet immediate needs.

A Concept

 Preconceived notions.

Misconceptions,

here’s A Concept;

I am not who you believe me to be.

I am not melancholy in the ear.

I cannot give into the dreary notion.

The motion

of what you want me to be

shadows the wonder

once known as my life.

Ancient

 My fingers on the pulse,

but the beat of blank is weak.

I can’t shake the feeling

of existential dread;

which follows me

where I tread.

A bit of bodily panic ages

my internal clock to Ancient.

It suddenly doesn’t matter

how young I am,

I’m old.