Seeker of Secrets

Harsh lines mar his face

and cruel words spit from his lips

with no intention of healing.

But I have found kindness among the unkind.

 

Her eyes are cold and calculating,

she sneers at the misery of others,

harsh rejections in every breath she takes.

But I have found safety in the unsafe.

 

Skin bruised in yellow and purples,

her voice tremulous, like the blues,

eyes search every action for inevitable violence,

ears attuned to the slightest increase in pitch,

a warning for oncoming verbal slashes.

I have found love in the unloved.

 

I seek their secrets

like an addiction to be fed.

The slightest compassion in the cruel, stiff lip,

the hidden scars under his sleeves,

the quiet sobs hidden in the corner

of the loudest laugh.

I seek their secrets,

and I keep them hidden

behind my own laughs,

and in my own lips.

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Garbage

His glare is pronounced

under prominent brows.

They arch like cats

as they stretch their backs.

The hair on my neck points

towards Polaris.

 

What have I done,

that was so very wrong?

 

Cotton dyed plaid bunches

around flabby biceps

as he pictures bending and breaking

a neck, an arm, a leg, a finger.

Since the moment I was born,

disposable garbage.

 

But garbage can’t earn a diploma,

garbage can’t tell you you’re wrong,

garbage can’t have a mind of it’s own,

a will that doesn’t bend to your fists

or your words

or your hate.

 

But garbage can fight back,

can’t I, Daddy?

Self?

What am I?
Just a silly sad girl.
No matter how I try,
life slaps me and I swirl.

Just a silly sad girl
full of bruises and scrapes,
life slaps me and I swirl
into the open arms of an ape.

Full of bruises and scrapes,
I waltz like a twister
into the open arms of an ape.
“You’re a piece of shit, sir.”

I waltz like a twister,
holding you in no regard.
“You’re a piece of shit, sir.”
I am my own guard.

Holding you in no regard,
no matter how I try…
I am my own guard.
What am I?

It Starts like That

He stands by the counter,

coffee cascading into the mug

he holds with a white knuckled grip.

It starts small like that.

 

A drop rebels from the waterfall,

splashes up and over the lip of its predestined

pool, lands on the skin of his finger.

It starts quiet like that.

 

A hiss, the world has betrayed him,

symbolized by that insignificant little drop—

that insignificant little daughter.

It starts, insignificant, like that.

 

Turning, furious, pupils dilate

(fight! fight! never flight!)

the mug crashes against the wall.

It starts with a crash, like that.

 

He thunders like a stormcloud,

shrouding the room in bright white

rage. Stares at the brown splatter

he’s made.

The roaring dulls, then escalates to

a lion defending his territory.

Claws were never sheathed.

Hatred never veiled.

Fists tighten and smash into immovable objects.

He is an unstoppable force.

 

When will you learn?

It doesn’t start like that.

It just never

stopped.