Chronic

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Unmanaged sadness, wearing a mask of unfelt smiles and laughter

Living with abandon as a chronic stranger to his own self

“Who am I?” unasked upon those too-proud lips

Exhausted from a stealthy, auto-pilot ego and the damaged relationships in his wake

Breaker of a million promises to us and to them and to who knows who else

Stealer and murderer of lyrics, of sentiment, of children’s and women’s hearts

Misappropriator of my very convictions to himself

Not my best friend despite his feigned, expressed desire

Sans a goodbye, claiming he’d leave his options open

Walked out on me lo’, that hard August day

And it’s October

And I’m okay

Kitchen Floor Musings

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I plan to lament, to pity-party, to languish-unapologetic-like, the daylong, in regret and angst.

When dawn of some new era calls, I’ll hear it’s hearken, I’ll know it’s finally time I arise from the rain and fog.

‘Til that day, you’re cursed, Mountain, you’re soul-sold, Hollow, you’re a kind woman’s Relic and Shame.

Fragrant

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I have been to lavender fields on what you might call
“A great day.”
Oh that the flowers would have told me,
“Love buds not with him — come fast away!”
He’ll not pray that you sit
He’ll not fight the good fight
He’ll not be by your side ‘til the end
You’re the bride and the groom
You’re your own epic bloom
You’re your bravest and loving best friend