when the crushing darkness comes
scream, weep (if you can)
slowly fold your broken soul
into a semblance,
a resemblance of composure
and walk, meditate,
reach out to friends
and and and
keep
the folded slices
together with air
and and and
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
and the raging suicide of pain
and and and
always
love
yakiba
poetry from the tempered edge
Tuesday, February 2, 2021
Monday, February 1, 2021
Sunday, January 31, 2021
Saturday, December 19, 2020
We don't talk anymore
We don't fight
We swung 'round in orbit
In the cold
In the dark
Suicide
Suicide
I couldn't take anymore
It wasn't the violence
But the cold that bit so deeply
We don't talk anymore
And I'm glad
I'm in a better place
And it has been a long time
The scars that burned so deeply
Will never fully heal
The zombie anger and resentment
Lurches through my mind
I can't bury it
So I vomit it on paper
In bile I say goodbye
We don't talk anymore
File under miscellaneous
Sunday, November 22, 2020
Wednesday, October 28, 2020
my brain spins and spins
with thoughts of you. I'm lonely
and obsessed and blue,
but must drop the pretense of
us being together.
The summer sun will climb
in the sky again
but now the year
falls to winter.
I am cold and in the dark,
enclosed.
I must walk in the autumn sun.
I must shower and shave.
I must move through life
as if animated by a spark.
True anomaly at Epoch -
I spin in orbit
locked.