Lonely Men

There's something about lonely men

Who stand and wait for the world to start

So they can live. 

It's not anything that you can put your finger on

Watch him smile and laugh 

But his eyes

He leaves with a woman every night

Same, different, they're all the same

Spends his seed but not his soul

There's no soul to spend

Or there is, but it's just locked up tight

He has no key. 

There's something in you that screams

To save that lonely man

Even though you're still the same girl

You can't. He's spent

And you'll be spent too, and just be

Another lonely

Spread the disease

Spread the loss

Spread yourself too thin

Spend yourself in another, find 

A bright flash. For a brief

Dream in another's embrace

There's something about lonely men

Who laugh but make you cry

You want to hold him but

His loneliness will be yours

He is just a mirror.

There's something about lonely men.

On Being Unique

It was the morning
After
That I woke up and realized

I was not
Important.
I knew
Deep in my
Heart that I have no
True defining characteristics
Which set me apart
From the rest. Others have had
My opinions thoughts hopes dreams despairs
Jokes, even looks. I am simply here to fill
An empty space, to warm your bed.
At night while you wait
In breathless anticipation for your
True love. I would scream
And gnash my teeth and pull my hair
But guess what-
It's all been done before.
What use is a scream which sounds
Just like another scream?
If I decided to take my life?
That too is an option chosen by
Too many. No matter where I go
Someone
Has been there before.
The path less traveled? Fuck,
The world is a parking lot.
We all sound and look and breathe
The same
And crave
To be set apart (but not too far)
I think the funniest bit
Of my realization is- it's something
We've all realized before.

Just A Doll

I wish that you could see the way

That I see me every day.

I guess I will begin by drawing you a doll.

Now, starting with her head which

Is inhabited by

Strays and Frizzy tufts of

Not quite curls. There are a couple

Bald patches where unkind  hands have

Yanked. I don’t mind really as I am just

A doll.

Maybe unkind is too strong a word.

I’ve been carried and dropped

Again and again by my hair

In the arms of Selfish

Children. Maybe not unkind, but

Uncaring. Because I am just

A doll.

I am missing an eye, and the other

Wanders aimlessly- flitting nervously

But never settling on any one

There’s always something better

Beyond my sight, or so I’ve been told.

I can’t really remember the color

Were they blue and deep as the sea?

Or green glass? I guess it doesn’t matter as I am just

A doll.

The stitches of my mouth

Are frayed and a smile won’t stay.

Would I be lying if I said I’ve tried? Probably, yes.

But in the end it’s silly to make

Any attempt as I am just

A doll.

My dress is threadbare, and not quite

Long enough to cover, as I sit.  

Some maintain this as a tool for judgment but

Parts have been ripped and torn and

Lost over time. In some places, it’s patched

Where someone had enough care to try

To heal, but the more common

Are the little holes that don’t quite let one sneak

A peek. It’s all in fun and no harm’s done as I’m only just

A doll.

The dress really can’t quite hide

That I am missing my right arm. And

If you would ask me where did it go?

I would laugh and say I hardly know.

I think really, it was I who left it behind

And not the other way around.

And really what does it matter? In all honesty

I remain essentially the same and just

A doll.

One of my legs does not really bend the

Way its supposed to and I guess

It is supposed to hurt but really I’ve grown

So used to the discomfort so that if it’s gone I will

Feel more broken than before.

And before you say I should probably get that checked out,

I’m letting you know right now that I won’t.

It doesn’t make any difference because as you

Probably know by now I am just

A doll.

I think that it is safer

And easier to remain this way.

Dolls don’t bleed or cry.

We can lose our limbs but never

Our lives. I take pride in saying I am only just

A doll.

Empty Space

Have you ever stepped between a dream and a nightmare?

And seen nothing there?

I have stepped inside that space.

And choked.

The rising bile in my throat

Burned.

And each swallow forced it up more.

Tears have ripped my face apart.

I wish I could scratch off…

Have you ever had truly violent urges?

That have left you shaken?

Not stirred.

I am afraid of that empty space.

Between dreams and nightmares.

It’s a much smaller space than you could imagine.

A shallow puddle that stretches to the ends.

I have stepped off the edge of the earth

Only to fall to the beginning again.

I am stuck in a stupid song.

A simple scratch on the record.

I have set myself on fire

Cut red rivers into my skin

I don’t feel it anymore.

I see your words and I want to die

Because you mean nothing.

I’m stuck in some empty space.

I would ask you to save me

But you’d only walk away.