Slate Grays

my hands are dry and rough from working
my eyes are small and used to squinting
my stature average, verging on petite
I have thin skin and veiny feet
my complexion’s poor, my tone is pale
genes say my bones will be quite frail
I have no nails as they are weak
my voice is too high when I speak
my mother thinks my hair’s too long
I think all compliments are wrong
I’m a sceptic, sometimes too much so
though I try to be fair to friend and foe
my opinions strong, my manner shy
in public you’ll never see me cry
in private I keep emotions tame
my anxiety has that cause to blame
I hate to shop, but buy a lot
no place could ever be too hot
I dislike snow, I dislike cold
I’m terrified of getting old
I have good friends who understand
I’m always later than I plan
I’m sensitive, and feel more pain
than I let off, or care to explain
I never intentionally drink alcohol
and for this, flunk social protocol
I dislike freckles, and have a bunch
I bend, I slouch, I slump, I hunch
I get depressed but never treat
I just stay up late and never eat
somehow, I’ve seemed to manage this wreck
to keep my addictive tendency in check
though these faults I easily admit
I’d like to think there’s some good to it
I’ll never regret the time departed
for when I love, I love whole-hearted

    

      

Copyright L.M. 2008.

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Patient Inquiry

say it ain’t so
break the silence
incomprehensible noise
years of pain
tell me something is wrong
but wise be the brain
and cruel
ironically heartless
justification of harmony
of evils and religion
perilous wait
a tumour of mindset
numbing an easiness
and making it senseless
getting there never works
I’m sent around
and around
a cycle of waiting:
of idiocy and ridicule,
incompetence and ignorance
shivers rise and fall
but rise more often now
and I wonder
where the clock will sit
when I finally find out
just what is wrong with me

Copyright L.M. 2006.

Inspection

“you don’t know me,
and you don’t even care”

breath is disappearing
somewhere deep inside of me
somewhere numb and bleeding
there’s a whole lung gone
I knew I couldn’t be wrong
and now I die inside
wondering wondering why
the birds are circling
they knew all along
a poor idiot like me
was sure to be a target
so spare me my excellence
spare me my time
just spare me

I liked it when I was young
innocence was fine
nothing expected of me
and I upstaged life
but when did the stage fall
when did I lose hope
when will I breathe again
please, let me breathe again
please let me be
me
        

       

Copyright L.M. 2007.  (written a couple months ago, quote from Augustana’s song “Boston”. don’t worry, I know the poem isn’t good haha).

Long Jump

how did I fall to this?
his spectrum wild and crazed
fortunate son of passion
living each breath fully
it invited me
like a warm bath
or triangle sheets
begging me to enter
and see just how lovely,
how comfort can be

underneath something was ill
someone broken, something still
intentions run aground on
the wrong shore, turn around

red ground company
and he silenced me with fear
but the slant of disease
gave it light, and now
I cannot be afraid
since between the sheets
slivered like a coward
I saw the hideous head of dishonour

underneath something was ill
someone broken, something still
intentions run aground
you’re on the wrong shore, turn around

    

       

Copyright L.M. 2007.