Standstill
I’m at a standstill
emotional landfill
of which its overflowed
internal trash expels from my pores
a mess of plastic smiles and
shattered excuses
obtuse abuses don’t make right angles
ninety degrees of wins and loses
losses are glossy and shine through the
piles of cardboard and old furniture lined up for miles
and the crumbled papers scattered
tattered with promises, stained with tears
fears dumped beneath old dressers and lamp shades
writing fades against the glare of the sun
on the broken mirror
reflecting the still image of myself
surrounded by the hand I’ve dealt
but what’s an ace stacked against rusted jacks
except nothing
everything destroyed by the time it has taken to get
to its worst state
I laugh in the face of fate
so to commemorate the things I can’t control
burning beneath the broken grill
I standstill
in the overflowed emotional landfill
fate
Assignation
What even is time, but unfair?
A supposed well-deserved title for a forced throne
as I wish merely for the sweet escape of your company
where the background fades to the loudest silence
committed to our moment
the truest adoration hops elegantly from note to note
your pheromones a natural concoction of obsession
Tinder glances beneath the whisps of brown curly curtains
that shield your cocoa eyes, especially from my gaze
while our breath dances together; in sync our lungs respire
We tempt to risk the fates set by Venus for our own temporary delight
thoughts to show up in the light, tip-toe from the shadows
but without a healthy plan, disaster a fortune from the simple
With barely minutes left to spare, a separation nears
Reminders of limits set a neurotic frenzy above my shoulders
and makes a buzzing ring my ears
and when you notice, you always do
another notch in the column of reasons why we should
out-notching the reasons why we won’t
and shall not ever, still
Brenda
Brenda laid her head down on the pillow
Wearied from the week she’d had
Yet
Grateful that she’d seen another
Trusting in life so deceptively that her routine to wake the next morning felt sure
She found herself eyes shut tight
Breathe in, breathe out
Off into the world of interim sleep
Where she sauntered slowly across the desert
The warmth sustained comfortably low
A temperature too perfect for too long to be real
For in a dream like this, pure pleasantries trailed
And she assumed, yet again
That the routine to wake would follow shortly after
Knowing not of her slowing heartbeat to ensue a few short hours into her innocent slumber
That would trap her in this stage of solitude eternally
What's Right Is Write 