10 Poems (3-28)

I wrote ten poems today. And here they are.

Please tell me it’s not tomorrow,
Can I have a stopwatch with magic,
So it can be today forever,
Until I want to be tomorrow?
I used to want that in school,
During finals,
A pause, where the clock would stop,
And I could study more, longer, better.
But it occurred to me, that even with infinite time,
I’d still wait until the last minute.

I’m scared to start something,
With someone who will make me lonelier than I am now.
I’m content, sort of,
To sit here, and know it could be better,
But also not worse.
There’s a safety there, here,
In knowing exactly how miserable I’ll be tomorrow.

I feel everything I do is the midday snow in March.
I’ll snow in the middle of the day,
Be forgotten by the night,
Never stick,
Get complaints about my timing,
And brushed away off coats
With a sigh, and a backwards glance.

I wanted you to be my go-to boy,
The, I can call you to tell you about,
Oh my god this crazy thing I just saw on the side of the highway, guy.
I just needed someone who valued me more than something else.
I though it could be you.
I let myself hope for just a second.
But, wait.
If you like me,
It means you’re like me,
And a flake.

I went to this bar where they brew their own beers.
I watched a skinny thin boy in a black v-neck sing his heart out
To people watching the basketball game.
He sounded like pre-recorded coffee shop guitar music,
With just the right touch of passion.

I can’t even look at him.
He thinks, I’m sure,
Oh look how demure,
No he wouldn’t think that,
He wouldn’t know what that word means.
I see him and remember.

Those would have been perfectly fine to stay hidden, just there.
I won’t think of the memories,
But I know how those memories feel.
I know how I should feel,
If I was remembering those memories
While I look at him.

I’d like to hold my breath for as long as I can,
Just so my body would do what I told it to.
This body I hold,
Has nothing to do with me.
It just holds me for the next one,
The next one of me that will come along,
Once I lose my lease.

He said, he doesn’t want to get out of bed.
Well, his back hurts,
I mean, really, I’m lazy,
Ok it’s like 20% back pain,
And I’m comfortable right now.
I wish I could turn off the light without having to get up,
God I’m so comfortable.
Could I like make a pulley string that would turn off the light from here?
I should have been an engineer.

I miss the way my people sound.
The people I grew up with,
They sound a bit like home,
God I miss that.
I miss that I trained myself to never sound like them again.

I use my nails to stop the thought train derailed.
Nails in the palm of my hand.
Red half circles.
They say, stop,
Stop thinking about that.

11 thoughts on “10 Poems (3-28)

  1. Alien Too

    When I first started reading your blog, I thought you were me. I thought that you were writing me, like a psychic trying to read me. My mother used to make me feel like I was wrong for being me. It took me years to admit that this was abuse and that I was attracting more people like her, seeking them out and then, when unable to run away because the pain of lonliness was too much, hanging around them when they rejected me entirely and emotionally isolating myself to try to protect myself from it. Mental abuse is a real thing and it’s a pretty terrible thing to do to a child. It can and will destroy whole lives. It’s still not gone from me after all this time. The culture does it to. TV trash and smack-talk. It’s been such a long time at your mother’s, hasn’t it, when she doesn’t even want you around? I left mine and am leaving everyone else soon until I work out who I actually am, not who I was told I am-not meant to be, not meant to speak, not even meant to cry-just smiley fake and slaving to their desire that I look happier than I am.

    1. some bad plankton Post author

      Apologies for my late reply. This is the one thing I love about writing a blog. Sometimes I find people who are just like me. It makes me feel better about who I am knowing someone else is the same, even the same messed-up; still the same. It forms a sort of magic.

      I agree with you in that I also am having trouble finding myself after being told what to be for so long. I’m worried about two things mostly. First, that I’m going to waste spending my whole life finding myself. And second, that even if I do find a peace, I’ll either end up like my mother, or like the woman from Joni Mitchell’s “Cactus Tree” — full and hollow.

      I hate it too that I feel the need to run away. I feel like, if i could be stronger, I could put this to rest. But, on the other hand, that puts a lot of blame on me. I’m somewhat nervous that once I leave, I’ll never return, and that will turn into a wound that won’t ever heal.

  2. suchled

    I like your poems. But I re-wrote the first five. Because you made me do it.

    I really want it to be tomorrow
    Today hasn’t been all it’s cracked up to be.
    I would really love to start something new.
    All I live with make me feel so lonely.
    Tomorrow can’t be worse.
    If only today would melt like snow
    And the someone I thought was you would stay.

    1. some bad plankton Post author

      I re-wrote your re-write. I’m using your last line to write something new.

      And the someone I thought was you would stay.
      Maybe I’ll keep you in my mind that way.
      I’d make the joke I know you’d react to,
      Just to hear your say the same thing again.
      I fall back on our old patterns,
      The ones I recognize from old blankets,
      So you’ll hear me like you used to,
      When I knew you like I did,
      When I didn’t have to guess which you I spoke to.


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