DESCRIPTION OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN
You see, daddy, there was a time
When I was innocent and clean
and then the storms came
and my dog ran in circles
and I stood by, superfluous
Shivering just outside of the heavy cane
When mirrors started judging me
And I became so lame
And I crumbled under the pressures
and I couldn't tell
If my body was me,
But my eyes were someone else's
And the jobs ran me to the other states
and I got lost between
but I can't find where now
Isn't that just so keen?
me

All The Ways

too many options may kill a man ~ Damien Rice


I knew it then, too. That’s why my mother
never cluttered our walls with portraits.
She allowed me one picture, mounted above

my bed: a horse missing a rider, his brown coat
so measured I knew it had never seen the whip
of wind and his perfect mouth had never tasted

carrots. I framed him gold and left him there
even after I stepped off. And I know it now--
all the ways to remove yourself. My doctor says

keep trying but she doesn't know which way.
One day, these pills will stick so I rename
my symptoms: Last week, I chased my lover

threatening to set my hair on fire. Yesterday,
God left me knee-bent at the side of my bed.
Today, I redress my walls—

Hopper suited in all blue, his mistress at the window
waiting; Degas and his thousand mad ballerinas,
unleashed; some unknown, numbered, breasts

revealed and muddied. I never said
I didn’t want them.

Wow, Linasmom.........powerful.

Hello Mara

Plodding into the water of depth
Wading into every wakening breath
Fear I have of you, do you have of me?
Oh vicious night of death.

I embrace you, father of torture, giver of angst
For to walk in your breast
Breath your putrid air,
I'll rest with you, bare
For into your soul, I want to be there!

I'll spend the day watching
Your wicked fangs frothing
To and fro, tearing and ripping
my soul into shreds
I will not falter
In fact, I won't even bother!

For all death comes in segments
Moments of my days
And to death I will pay attention
There by killing all your ways.

Help Me Hold On

LORD, help me hold on
‘Til this journey’s o’er
And comes a new dawn
On Heaven’s bright shore.

How glorious there
To raise hands in praise,
And sing as we share
Eternity’s days.

Yes, the system does allow the .zip file attachment as an alternative for multiple files, however; you still have a file size limit to contend with off 2MB I think I set it at.

Knuckle-bone

I can round my jaw enough to pop
my chewing gum without blowing
a bubble. It reminds me of my mother’s
knuckle-bone. The way it would snap out
then retract throughout the day.

I used to sink into the passenger seat,
stare at her grip - hand to steering wheel,
how the bone beneath her skin would jet
back and forth as if exercising its power
in preparation for something heavy.

At home, when she fastened gloves
around fingers, scrubbed the bath-tub
of its scum, I imagined her knuckle-bone
rubbing raw against the squeak of protection,
listened for bare skin sliding against rubber

as she peeled back gloves then broke
her hands free. That’s how I knew
it was loose, swooping down like a bird's
hardened claw, ready to connect bone to bone.

Previously published in the Melic Review, 2006

Heart flung open
by the joy of companionship,
I hear you tell of pain so vast
it almost killed you.
I miss a breath
as a stroke of sorrow flashes deep.
You hesitate.
I ask you to go on.
I let it in,
as much as I can bear
and still drive the car.
I find no adequate reply.

Stop crying
and I will give you
something new to cry about,
is what the world whispers sometimes.

And I listen closely,
since these tears for a friend
may be the best I have to offer.

Wow, you all have incredible poetry. I find any kind of art incredibly interesting because it can say so much about its creator and how they were feeling.

Here is a poem I wrote and had published in the local paper back in 2003. Its about trying to live for today.

One Day at a Time

I wish it was the past again
Which crayon should I take?
Which game to play or show to watch?
Which drawing should I make?
Too young to have regrets
Too innocent to know
Imagining the boy I'd marry
While building men of snow!
I wish it was the future!
For wiser I shall be
No more papers or exams
Or college over me
I'll have a house and good career
With two kids and a cat
For goodness' sake the DSL!
I'd be happy just with that!
But how interesting is a goal that's reached?
Or a party once its past?
Half the fun is getting there
So why not make it last?
Right "now" once was tomorrow
It will soon be yesterday
I really should enjoy the "now"
Before it slips away

I often find it difficult to communicate my feelings. When I try to speak my feelings, I get so flustered from all of the emotions and fear of rejection, that I cannot put into words anything coherent.

Poetry is one way that I express myself. Even if I don't share the poem with anyone, it allows me to put that feeling on paper. When I re-read the poem, I am able to analyze the emotion better, and, hopefully, understand it better. It doesn't ease the emotion, but helps me understand myself.


Hiding

I have to hide my feelings.
I must not let them show.
Push the pain down hard enough,
And nobody will know.

I have to keep my mouth shut.
I dare not say a word.
If thoughts are never spoken,
The pain cannot be heard.

I have to hold the tears back.
I must not let them flow.
Build a dam inside my heart,
And let the cold wind blow.

I have to keep the anger
Locked way down deep in me.
Look away, and swallow hard,
And throw away the key.

I have to keep my mask up.
I must not let it fall.
Paint a smile upon my face,
And hide behind my wall.