Confused Fury

   Confused Fury  

          I.

lies vanish at night’s beginning regret runs rapid
when only lonely can console me

          II.

caught in this hell storm
colored crimson
tears map out
the last years
of my life from what’s left
on this face I remember

          III.

courage pulled
from the cracks deep
inside the cement forming
around lungs breathing revenge

           IV.

placed
that barrel in my mouth
and pulled the trigger
why am I still here?

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Recounting Bitter

Recounting Bitter

saliva stains the floor
only out of spite
of love tasting
sour on my tongue

bound at the ankles
by wasted chances
years recount
fingers interlocked
body 2 inches from lips
placed on a pedestal
resting on the mantel
of what I thought was us

unsure now
of the space we played
in as you mock me
behind strangers
kicked out bags in hand
yea,that day
I became half a man

Cathartic Release

Cathartic Release

twisting this serated
edge between my thumb
and forefinger
tasting blood
as my teeth clench
my inner jaw
anticipating the cathartic release
that seeps
out as this blade glides
effortlessly across arms built
to scream
when words get cordoned
off somewhere between
brains and vocal chords

induced the slight ease
of congestion
of an overactive mind conversing
with a scorned heart so foreign
the language barrier 
can’t be broken
my blade builds
the bridge back to safety

My Problems ARE more Important

I get sick of people trying to place me on a guilt trip about not seeing past the smile and seeing the good. For most of my life, I have been told I let my problems consume me; they are bigger than me and bigger than anyone else in my life. That’s just the way I operate until I have a concrete resolution that will fix the issue.

When so call friends say I thinok my problems are bigger than the world, I automatically shut down. I immediately think i’m hanging around the wrong people when I hear this judgment out of their mouths. Is it too much for people to get to know me and understand that I don’t really care what they think.  I can only be who I am.

Weak Moments #1

Weak Moments #1

at times

when the overcast
of polluted skies become
too much to bear
I reach for you

breathing in Chicago’s smog
clouding my judgment
I believe I need you

functioning solely
on the day to day pouring
rains that flood
Stoney Island’s viaducts
I cry for you

when the Sunshine
of my life is missing
dawn seems to be overlooked
a sunset too
not casting it’s normal red/orange hues
my mind’s dark as midnight
as my flesh bleeds for you

due to my sins
I deserve to be punished
life whips me bare
my clothes fallen

outstretched in this darkness chained to the stock
awaiting my execution

for deeds you can’t forgive

Moving On, Standing Still

Moving On, Standing Still
 

a bone structure 
I couldn’t draw 
in Art class

 
staring at his picture resting
comfortably in your downloads
smile flickered 
nicely off your phone screen

pulls at my strings
controlling the stomping
grounds I used
to play tag on

running free
as the wind blows
simple reminders
of what interlocked
fingers felt like
when a smile followed

 
yea, I always stood on your left

now tears form
with nowhere to fall
but flat
on my face intoxicated
drugs race through
a blood stream immune
to life’s transgressions

 
in the dark, it’s messy
and I keep hitting my head
on this door frame
without forgiveness
 
drunk, I cower 
in the corner lonely