ugly words

ugly words are little and small
it’s no wonder I can’t say them at all

because I thought I had everything
but it all fell apart
and what’s the worth of misery
past a small bit of art

because failure is always an option
and every story has an end
but shouldn’t some last forever
and if not, what then?

because life would be easier
if life were easy
if love were easy
and it’s not

because hearts don’t fit like puzzle pieces
four chambers, a sanctuary, a cemetery
a court room, and a cell
a drumbeat borne from hell

because words written in private
cannot always be spoken in public
and ugly feelings
inspire ugly words
but sometimes the words hold beauty
in the hearts of ugly things
the hearts of ugly people
that taste bitter on the tongue
and squander
what was better held onto

because open hands
are a sign of welcome
and release


Fast and Slow

The top of my head
feels hollow
fills with sounds and delusions
that echo
in time with my heartbeat
my pulse
the flow of electrons
through neurons
between where my finger
slides through graphite
on paper
to where my shoulder
hinges at my neck
and past my dry mouth
sagging cheeks
and languished eyes
so I stop thinking
drained by prayer and famine
to observe
the world as it wavers and twists
lilting sideways
as my steps lurch forward
the passages of overhead conversations
like “It’s crazy
in the hands and feet alone
are half the bones
in the body”
and my feet are tired from standing
my hands are numb
from holding open this Book of Life
reading all the words
to find my name
to realize
my hands carry this weight
as much as my feet
that half my body is assigned
to doing
so half my mind
as it withers in sacrifice
should find itself trained
not upon being
eating, drinking, desiring
but doing.

NaNo 2014: Story 7

I’ve fallen a little behind in posting my stories–so I’ll put this one here today, and another tomorrow. This one in particular came from an idea I had while riding the elevator to work one day. What happened if suddenly everyone on the elevator disappeared? It’s meant to be horror, but has a surreal ending. I like it.

Marley looked up at the ding of the elevator arriving and then watched as the door rolled back and a small crowd of people came out. There were two or three others waiting around, and as they filed into the elevator, Marley went with them.

She stepped back and watched the door swing shut. She was trapped there. The door shook as it fell into place and Marley looked up. There was her reflection, facing her, smiling at her from the other side of the glass. It waved to her, though Marley kept her hands at her sides, and then it walked away; Marley saw her reflection on the door a moment longer before it vanished.

Inspire my next story by clicking here.

There’s Something Inside That’s Stirring

There’s something inside that’s stirring
Gears grinding and whirring
Into this depth of passion I feel
This inversion of everything real
Inside an abyss as deep as dark
Sullen and silent and stark
Past memories and fantasies
Toward a destiny that frees
All this ambition and energy
Pent up somewhere inside me
An echo that crosses fast
Tying together future and past
In a moment of time
Wherein was the crime
That came to fruition
In an imaginary nation
That planted this seed
And coaxed forth this greed
To summon this stirring
Of ancient gears whirring
That keeps me moving here
But leaves my visage unclear
A mirror who’s facing me
Whose reflection I cannot see

Originally posted in There’s Something Inside That’s Stirring