The Back Burner

4/17/2020

You cook up your lies with subconscious intentions,
all the while having me believe you were acknowledging my existence.
I can feel your forged validation beginning to steam me to my core,
its fog slowly clouding my perception of you.
I can feel your irrational enigmas splatter upon my face,
reluctantly knowing that their stains will never wash out of my facade.
Your heat intensifies by the minute,
forcing me to bubble over with thoughts of assumed acceptance.
In order to stop the spurting of any kind of recognition,
you capriciously grab a lid to block me out.
Condensation builds as fast as your rejection,
as I abruptly crack under its pressure.
And then, there you go again,
evasively touching me,
to only move me farther away from you.
Just close enough to still feel your incredulous heat,
and yet far enough away for me to not be burned by it.

Neighbor

4/17/2020

Walking up the stairs,
avoiding all eye contact.
I just want to make it inside
before I break down.
Opening the door,
immediately falling to my knees.
I heave out all of my insecurities one by one,
tearing myself into a million more pieces in the process.
It’s impossible to explain:
that feeling of just wanting to be seen,
to just be heard,
to just be acknowledged,
to just be wanted,
but knowing you’ll only be just an insignificant ghost to them.
I crawl to my bed,
crying so hard that my body permanently cramps into a despondent curl.
I can’t help but raucously moan out my loneliness,
in hopes that the walls between us are proofing out the sound of my dejection.
All I can do is watch these desolate vibrations descend through the floor.
Hoping among all hopes,
that she can’t hear my weeping
every single night.

Triggered

4/18/2020


I feel like a puzzle with mismatched pieces.
I can’t complain about it, though,
because at least I have pieces left, right?
I’m not sure if some pesky pieces were ever included in my package
or if some of them have just gone inexplicably missing.
I find myself frantic trying to find out where these pieces fit.
If they’ll ever fit into my dilapidated self-worth.
I often wonder if some pieces just fell underneath the carpet that I happen to cover my insecurities with,
or if some are still stuck to the tear stains that haven’t dried yet.
I regularly find myself crumbling in and out of some kind of trigger-fed spiral.
I can’t control when it comes or goes
and am even more perplexed when the spiral suddenly stops.

They made me this way.
All of my tragic rejections transformed my once wild heart into a sputtering mess.
I can’t seem to shake it.
I am alone in this.
I can only figure this out by myself.
It can be so miserable at times-
to be this isolated with such a tumultuous conscious.
To always find yourself triggered by such petty things,
like continuously searching for missing pieces that were never there in the first place.

I feel like a puzzle with mismatched pieces.
I can’t complain about it though,
because no one listens to a person struggling with the pieces they have left.

Frequency

4/18/2020

This futile static is deafening.
The mixing of its volatile high and low pitches forces me to cover my ears,
as if it will lull out our incessantly redundant noise.
I frantically turn the knobs,
attempting to reach some kind of comprehension,
but only end up with more stations to fumble through.

This confounding chaos is relentless.
The persistent banter of your ego somehow registers my own problems invalid.
I frenziedly try to ignore you as you press every one of my buttons.
Prying my mouth wide shut, with eyes wide open,
I am left helpless and hopeless as I watch you neglectfully mute me.

I just don’t get it.
With so many tones between us
and so much static left to decipher,
why couldn’t you tune your belligerent frequency for once
and just HEAR me?

Click

Click    8/13/15

It happens in an instant.

A click.

A tangible click from a turnstile.

The entrance to a distinctive journey.

An excursion only for the ticketed.

It happens in an instant.

An impulsive click pushes you forward.

You have reached the beginning.

The instigation of your destiny.

It happens in an instant.

People enter their own worlds

and disregard my existence.

Always rejected at this foreboding turnstile.

It always happens in an instant.

Someone telling me they can't handle me 

and that I must return to the back of the line.

It is there that I notice

how hot the sun can be.

How unbearable waiting truly is.

It must happen the instant

I look away.

I seem unable to hear the click.

Incompetent to move forward

and join the rest of you.

It seems I’ll be stuck here forever.

Standing stagnant at this dismal turnstile,

always waiting to hear my

click

and finally enter a place where I feel welcomed.

Tunnel Vision

You people need to snap the eff out of it!

Tunnel Vision       3/31/15

So damn focused you can’t even blink.

I’m tired of flailing around you.

Purging heaps of advice into your insolent mouth.

You seem to only hear his mumble through my howl.

Focusing only on his speck of light at the end of your tunnel vision.

Your eyes only dart from the places he goes.

Your ears only hear the things he says.

Your imprudent sense of self-worth only revolves around his actions.

We are all still here, too, ya know?

Yet you have placed us within the linings of darkness that surround your tunnel vision.

You have become blind to us and blinded by him.

I refuse to be sabotaged to live on the outer rim of your focus.

Wasting away somewhere in your distance.

If only you’d blink.

A blink taking you out of your tunnel for just one moment 

so you could see all the different specks of light that make up your life.

But you are so implacable

you've destined yourself to stare into his one speck of light for so long

that now all your eyes are merely muddled to see is

all of

NOTHING.

The Third Wheel

This is how it feels to be me.  To be the dreaded third wheel.  I could say it in one word (SUCKS) but I'll stick with the words below:

The Third Wheel                  4/1/2014

It may not be thick,

but I have very deep tread.

Not necessarily fragile but extremely delicate.

Never reliable but always dependable.

These hazardous roads made me tough

but definitely not durable.

I’ve hydroplaned on unforeseen puddles before.

It’s more exhilarating than terrifying.

With my heart’s speed being the only factor,

I’m pretty sure it will happen over and over again.

I’ve slipped on idyllic ice before.

It’s more obvious than transparent.

It didn’t just turn me in a nauseating circle,

it changed my direction entirely.

I’ve been stuck in despotic mud before.

Churning these tires to get out of the trap,

only to flick more dirt on my mirrors.

Pieces of him are still on me.

I’m afraid I’ll never truly be washed clean.

I’ve been stuck in exasperating traffic before.

In fact, this is where I’ve sat for years.

Stalled in the middle lane, horns honking, others flying past me at a rate I’ll never understand.

Only my brake lights seem to be lit.

Mile after mile I can literally feel these tires wearing thin.

Screw after screw I can see them dreadfully disintegrating.

Passerbys become spectators.

This tire is bound to go crashing into their windshields.

Maybe they’ll think of me when they discover the crack I made.

I’m not just some small indention in their lives,

I am an influence on their horizon.

Yes, I could always put my hazards on

to warn you that I’m still here,

but I know you’ve got places to go

and you’ll just run me over to get there.

You’ll overlook the skid marks these tires of mine have made,

and you’ll just drive gleefully past me thanking God that

you aren’t me.