Always Write

Sorry I haven’t been on here much…the creativity seems to be at a low again :[

Frequent (F)lying

They told me to

check my notebook

said it could be deadly.

These TSA folks,

let me tell ya

they’re more perceptive 

than most

They proceeded 

to strip me of my favorite pen, 

its mighty silver tip

flashing brighter than any sword

as it landed in the trash

with a dead-sounding thunk

Once I was finally

safely on the plane

they eyed my copy

of Catcher in the Rye

suspiciously,

suspected

imminent and apathetic

mutiny

Surely they cannot

take away my book!

Even my high school teachers,

on the grounds that I was either

passing with an A+ or

failing completely and utterly,

and in either case 

bored out of my mind,

begrudgingly allowed

me the right to read

during their class

Surely,

these menopausal

stewardesses don’t want

this child to be 

left behind in

the wonderful world

of literacy! 

Next time

I will be wiser

I’ll pretend I’m

in the psych ward:

no more dangerous

and mighty writing utensils

when blunt crayons

will do,

no death-spiral binding

my notebook

Next time,

I promise to read 

only the emergency

evacuation card

and the Sky Mall catalogues

provided to this valued

customer

free of charge

Next time,

I promise

my brain will be just

as quarantined and

secure

as the two hundred alleged terrorists

residing at Guantanamo Bay  

docmarek asked: I have SO many. The octopus is the only one that doesn't really have a specific meaning though. Which one did you want to know about in particular?

haha the octopus was the one I was wondering about but I don’t know…tell me about your favorite one. I wish I was brave enough to get that many tattoos. I’d be worried I’d regret it. 

Addiction

I had not invited him,

yet he came anyway

the close talker,

the perennially unwanted friend

who insists on 

constantly shadowing you anyways

Addiction, his name was,

that fellow who will clap you 

on the back and drink with you

yet never get drunk,

nor hungover for that matter,

only thinly disguise his glee 

as he watches you

cradle your head

in your hands,

your sweater flecked with vomit

Addiction,

who slid razors up and down 

my arms, as if to keep me warm

only to leer at me

as my naked body 

shook

as I struggled to

warm catatonic veins

with the frigid kiss

of stainless steel 

yet, close talker he was,

he never seemed to understand

that my life was better now,

so far removed from the nights

that rained blood

and spat shards of glass and ice as often

as they did water

but still convinced he was

triumphant, and always

insistent upon having

the last word,

he just sat down on my couch

and refused to leave,

fiddled with the remote

to the T.V.,

channel surfed late into the night

the constant and overstaying 

houseguest

I think he wanted the keys

to my apartment too,

He always tended towards

kleptomania, even when 

I told him to keep his hands

to himself

it was probably the 

dull sparkle of the metal

more than anything,

but who really knows?

Finally,

after too many nights

of me sitting on the couch,

him planted firmly by my side,

I told him

that enough was enough

he’d violated the fish rule for house guests

by at least six months-

had he been a fish,

he’d have rotted into a skeleton

ages ago

So at last

I pushed him out of the door,

and most likely

onto some other poor soul’s

couch 

A Small Poem

There is something

terrifying

about the blankness

of new paper

the emptiness 

of unwritten lines

the opportunities

of the open road-

life 

yet to be lived