Hurt Me

Hurt me, please…
I need it. I feel it
In my bones, the groans,
The tremors of longing
For belonging.

Wrangled from my rock of
Lonely ages; saved from
Pages upon pages of drama
Poorly written. I am smitten;
I am lost; I am careless of
The cost. Name your price,
And I will pay it; write the part
And I will play it. Use me, muse me,
Only choose me. Chew me up and
Spit me out; knock me down and
All about.

Hurt me, please…
Pluck my beating heart and
Cast it on the ground
Before me, then ignore me
As I fall.

Vacate Shun

Breaking bread amongst my enemies; friends like
These, who needs epiphanies? Parasitic little
Darts fired from parts unknown, striking without
Warning: cloudy day, sunny morning, promise
Without purchase, cause without purpose. A
Tiny little cog, a massive hopeless clog in the
Machinery of quiescence. Is it odd or is it
Essence? That’s the question. Is it shame or
Indigestion, this congestion in my heart,
None yet part indiscriminate, a feeling not so
Intimate as wrath or deadly hatred, a clumsy,
Stumbling waitress with a knife that’s meant for me. But
To the point, the point is this: I crave a moment’s bliss, a
Tendered kiss from someone I don’t know. The one thing
That you sow is the last thing that you reap. Go to sleep, keep those
Eyes tightly closed against the light. Close them tight. Say goodbye, and then


Wide Awake

You know that little light bulb they say
Lives in your head? Is it red?

Born and bred, deep within–
Is it a
To give in? To

Let go, and throw
Caution to the wind? Don’t
Pretend you cannot hear it–
The siren’s call–
You know you fear it, because beyond it
There be monsters, perhaps some
Honest answers to life’s more
Nagging questions:

How can a flower bloom, given
No room?