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#1
Dew Drops

I still remember the old days,
although they weren't that old at all.

Just laying on your wet lawn,
spread-eagled like snow angels.
We held hands as though one of us
might drift off into the stars -
never to see the other again.
And we gazed at the sky,
lost in the idea.

The dew rolled in, and we'd stick out our tongues,
letting them cling wherever they could.
We passed static electricity
to and fro between the vectors.
For hours, we'd contrast skin textures,
and try to describe the exact color
of each other's irises.

But now all we do is brag
in vivid, excruciating detail
the sexual adventures we've had
without each other.
And while none is half as exciting
as the ones we once shared,
we still seem to get
fired up about them.
Odd for a couple of kids
who have already moved on.

You say,
"Sometimes, you've got to try your best
to dodge the proverbial monkey shit thrown your way
and make the best of what you've got."

I say,
"Just because the rainbow you've seen fades
doesn't mean it's the last you'll ever see,
And it doesn't mean it wasn't ever there in the first place."

I think that if you removed
my fingernails in my sleep,
and reached deep down through
my newly excavated orifice
you would soon discover
that I'm nothing like I used to be.

My veins don't hold blood
the same way they used to.
My lungs don't breathe
half as heavily as you made them.
My pulse doesn't pound constantly
because there isn't much to be excited about.
And my heart has become
twice as malleable as before.

But on the bright side,
once you see all that's gone wrong,
you might just take up
that old artisan's mantle.
You'd try and fix me
back the way I used to be,
when we first met.
Back when I was the one
always fixing you.
You'll reminisce and recall
that each one of your precious
pink ribbon scars can be traced
back to anyone but me.

Of course,
that's if all these romantic ideas
even happened in the first place.
With how much you've changed lately,
I almost hope that they didn't.

I guess that I'm still the optimist.



Arachniphobia

I was never a very good learner, you know.

But that knowledge never slowed me down.
I latched on to the nooks and crannies,
And I climbed up the pipes that led to your house.

You probably never realized that I was this determined.

You probably never realized how many times
I shrunk, just to try and climb again.
Up into your house...

Will you ever notice me?

I think as I near the top,
The peak of my pitiful achievements.
But the itsy bitsy spider never wins.
Everyone knows how this fairy tale ends.

And as I reach an appendage
Up through the moist drain,
Down came the rain to wash me out.

I could barely think for trying to breathe.

I spun and thrashed and cracked my head
Against the walls,
Still slick,
Granting me no purchase.

Couldn't you just have waited
A minute longer to wash your hands?
Whatever was on them can't have been that vile.


As vile as me.

But as I right myself and begin climbing again,
I can't help but be thankful.
I needed that water in my lungs.

If I'd caught your eye,
You might've smashed me with a broom.



Violent Iris

I'm sure that Spring is a source of content for someone
But for me it's just another chance to choke
On dinosaur heads that fill my lungs with water
Spluttering, eyes tearing up as I fall facefirst
On the slip'n'slide

And the trampoline in my friend's backyard is no better
It trips and tugs my feet and tosses me about
I tried to tell them that this one's against me too
Showing off rugburns, bruises, but they just laugh and say
"Life's too short to be
Blaming every last clutzy move
On something that doesn't even walk and talk."

I guess that I agree
We creatures that feel and breathe are much more worthy
Of that prestigious title - "Faulty."

The breeze rustles through my hair as I gaze
Let down by the macabre state of my surroundings
The grass is shivering, screaming hypothermia
Drenched in the piss of the livid clouds
And the flowers are flaunting their petals
While the weeds suck away at their roots

It's not like I don't understand
Why someone would prefer this season
It's just that I find it a cheap shoddy way
Of pushing back memoirs of winter's charm

As a hummingbird lands near the flowerbed outside my window
It happens to choose the violet iris, lost in lament
It wriggles in to suckle seed, to spread the cheer, oh irony
And for a split second I wish that just for a moment
The iris could enclose the bird, that it could protect the world
From suffering its own fate

It's only now at the end
That it becomes apparent
None of it was a joke to me.