This poem is a piece from my new poetry chapbook, In the Feels. It is available on Amazon for $2.99 and includes 20 original pieces that have never been posted on by website before (except for the one below that I’m posting now!). You can also read it for free if you’re a Kindle Unlimited subscriber. Thanks for your support!

Selfish Fish

At what point does
your selfishness set
you free from your
guilt and disgustation?
When does your center of
gravity shift to include
someone besides yourself
someone besides anyone
but you who love
and love and love with
only your mouth.
Tell me how to go foreword
and not let the
violent current overtake
me and carry my
helpless body along the
mad ride pushing me
under the surface
where only you can
breathe, where only you
can be, can see, not me.
Swirling, twirling,
tumbling rocks dashed
on rocks with no soft
sand to land. Lend me
your hand that I may
lead you from the dark
depths of you and into
the part of you I know
can be better.

How to fly with
Clipped wings
Moving with
clumsy hesitance
unsure if they
should flap
or let the fall
happen.

Breathing
no time for thought
for times fought
with blind passion
and stone solid
convictions
no restrictions
to keep it back
to shield
to protect
a clear lane
unfettered with
life’s clear conscious.

Alive, the ever
changing world
in which we
live in makes
us want to give
up and fly.

Try every day
in every way
to be someone
who flies
but time
and again
I must rise
from the ashes
soaring high
making passes
high above all
and above all
remembering there
is something
and someone
I must do.

Mushrooms grow
and die in the
dank dark and I
prepare to live
and die in the
light if it
will have me
it it will
bathe me
in soft
fluorescent
light.

Image by: DTL
(http://mrg.bz/AsSBzi)

How many times
Can I say I’m sorry
For something I
Did not do

How many ways
Can I show
My love for someone
Who isn’t true

How many nights
Should I lay awake
Waiting for your
Arms to hold me

As many as it takes
Too many for my sake
I shall wait
In eternity.

Image by: Clarita (http://mrg.bz/OQ3I7U)

Tell me again, Dear Friend
How your day was
What’s happened to you
Since last we met.

I have put on my smile
And my listening ears
Yes, I’m fine
Tell me about you

I don’t know how
To make idle chatter
I never quite learned
Or got the gist

Nod and laugh
When I know it’s
Expected of me
Sip my coffee throughout

Maybe this time I
Will say something
Put a piece of myself
On display, to see

Something’s missing, Dear Friend
No, it’s not my phone
I have my keys
Right here, yes. Good.

But first I’ll listen
One more time
About your planned
Family trip to the sea.

No, I’m fine, coffee’s gone
I’d better get going.
Nice to see you
Don’t be a stranger.

Hug, wave, promise to
Feel the same as I did
Before I came,
As I sat inside.

As I sit now.
Unconnected
Uncollected
Fraying at the seams

Push my stuffing
Back inside
Sew it up again
It’s time to do

Something important.
Start the car
Turn on a radio
That I never hear

Pretend to sing along.

Image by: 5DeMayo (http://mrg.bz/uZ3zpY)

Moving light
I displace space
Relocating
Overthinking it all.
Breath in
Breath out
Stay calm
Feeling every molecule
Every hair on end
Each second counts
Action
Precedes reaction
A sneeze
‘Bless you.’
Open  a door
To close it behind you
Give your heart
To lose it
Tiny decisions
Huge mistakes
Lead us to where
We should be
Take a breath
Take a step
And begin again.

Image by: Matei (http://mrg.bz/BddmFb)

How did we get here?
This place so full of ugly
Overflowing with unhappiness
Afraid of change
Unwilling to compromise
Apathetic in our misery
We stop trying
To get somewhere
To be someone worthy
And we grow fat
Within our complacency
Unable to give of ourselves
Not even willing to take
We lose our taste for joy
Forget how soft skin feels
And the sweet taste
Of a kiss.

Image by: Koan ( http://mrg.bz/Rfm05E)

Marked by interesting
or exciting events.
plagued by the never
ending soiree.
Music spilling
tumbling over me.
My skin.
Where I feel the
softness of violet
taste the sweetness
of a faultless harmony.
It is we who are
full of these events.
Clutching them in
our pockets like an
old napkin with a
number and a red
lipstick kiss.