Disqualified

The funny thing ’bout all great loves
That writers care to mention:
The players have virtues in droves,
And always clear complexions.

Persuasion

It doesn’t take long
The length of a comment or a post
And my persuasive powers have taken hold
“You’re worthless,” says the mind
“What could you have to say?
Who would want to listen?”
No storm is longer winded
Nor so laden with potential truths
When I am honest, I am angry
I am resentful and despairing
And how can I not hate myself
How could others fail to see
When all I loathe in others’ eyes
Is so plainly in me.

Footprint

My life is based in lies:
Truths untold
Hide me from the prying eyes,
The judgements we’re supposed to make.
Everything I’ve ever heard
Tells me how my actions must be seen,
And who am I to say it’s wrong?
Who am I to say I’m sane?
Who am I to say I care, when I’m gone;
That I’m centered, when I’m drawn;
That every word I’ve ever spoken
Isn’t some evil, manipulative song?
Who am I to say that I deserve
While others have the right to say “what nerve!”
And like the wretch I’ve always been
I haven’t got the nerve to argue very long.
Best that I just carry on,
Trying to try on nothing different;
Because it seems the greatest gift that I can give,
To leave behind the smallest footprint.

Better Than

I am a friend to monsters,
And so perhaps you’ll come to see:
If my friends are only monsters,
You can be no friend to me.

Nothing Beautiful

There is no thought
Nothing I can hold
And I’m supposed to be something beautiful
I’m supposed to be something bold?

I am something angry
I am something losing self
And if that is all that’s left of me
Then leave me to myself.

Children Are Scary

Ah, the cherubs with demonic tendencies
Who smile and laugh with joy and ease —
Who doesn’t look in awe at these?
And what icy heart won’t soon unfreeze
At the sight of they who play so free,
So unburdened by those burdensome things
Like time, mistakes, morality,
They look so light they might take wing.

But the burdens still are ours
And so too are the dreams
And while the cherubs pick their flowers
In your mind remain the screams
Of a conscience that is coming through
As “children are scary”
But what it’s really telling you
Is, “they really should be scared of me.”

Oaken

My life is a chain of promises broken
And of the ones that I kept, I gave no sign or token
So as I think of the tree and the silence unbroken
I’m expecting to hear, “Your heart must be oaken…”

Invitation

I’ve imagined each scenario,
Examined with a fine-tooth comb;
Will it be failure pronounced in stereo,
Or a fairytale until I’m home?
Will I be a disappointment?
A catatonic mess?
Will I choose “fool” for my employment,
Or will I dazzle and impress?
Will he be ashamed to claim relation?
Will the day ever even come?
Or will he rescind my invitation
Long before it’s said and done?

Pretense

Can I fit into the little box?
Can I be what I believe I must?
Can I just discard the thoughts:
The greed, the pride, the anger, lust?

Can I cut off inconveniences
And still say that I am whole
Or will I, in my running, find
That I can’t outrun them all?

Preemptive

Do you wonder why I always fail?
Why all I do turns out a bust?
It’s because I choose to fail,
To prove I’m not worthy of your trust.

Do you wonder why I shy away?
Why I go through life as if a wraith?
It’s because I hide away,
To prove I’m not worthy of your faith.