Monthly Archives: February 2017

Poems from My Day (2-22-17)

I can’t hold off all my thoughts.
I would like it if my trains could be derailed for a minute,
Like I would be able to take that thought and pick it up and
Set it to the side, off the kid’s wooden tracks,
For just a minute.
Spin the wheels in the air,
Disconnect and reattach the magnetic caboose bumpers,
Take a break from being stuck inside the circles and circles
Of worn down track.

I have no expectations of him.
It needs to stay this way.
Because I only get hurt,
When I depend on people.
That attachment will never get deeper,
It will stay on this level right here,
Because he can’t be part of my support system,
So he can’t be a part of me.

It’s not a big deal to me,
If people are drug addicts,
Or unacceptable in some way or another,
I’ll judge them when I meet them,
For what they show me.
I still haven’t made up my mind
If you can be a bad person and do good things.

My roommate doesn’t understand trash talking,
She doesn’t know how to not take it personally,
This is not something I can explain.
It’s a concept she’s never heard.
It has nothing to do with you, person you.
It’s like when you need to watch something innocuous,
Sports is there, to care about, but not hurt to think about.
And you get to hate other teams,
Say mean things,
Be silly.
And have conversations with strangers with a nice, common ground.
But she gets offended when I talk smack.
I have to say, I’m being sarcastic,
I don’t mean it.
She told me, this is why people think you’re mean.
When I was trash talking today.
She’s never let her mind run.
Football is all about the food for her.

My brother has a girlfriend.
I’m so excited.
It means he’s normal.
He turned out okay.
He’s able to express his emotions,
That’s what this means.
It means we didn’t mess him up too badly,
He’s better than his father.
He can say what he’s feeling.

My sister told me she has stress induced IBS
I don’t know what to tell her?
Quit killing yourself?
Suck it up and deal?
For goodness sake there’s so much education between the two of you, why can’t you figure this out?

I always have to lie in would you rather games.
Because I’m tame, and I won’t be ashamed for it.
This time,
Though I had told the truth,
She screamed at me,
How have you had a threesome, but never smoked a whole cigarette?
I do not like her sam I am.

Poems from My Day (2-21-17)

hello again. it’s been a bad couple of weeks

I apologize too much.
She told me, quit saying, “I’m sorry.”
I don’t have a problem with my apologizing.
Leave me the hell alone.
What have self-confidence-less people ever done,
But hurt themselves.
It seems to me, the people sure of themselves are the ones
Who never think they need to listen and learn.

I fall under something called the Hatch Act.
It means while I’m seen as doing my job,
I can’t say anything political.
In all honesty, it’s a little bit of a relief,
To have an excuse,
When someone asks about my politics,
But, at the same time,
I want to civilly disobey that, and speak my mind, because I was told not to.

Oh god so much has happened.
I can’t bring myself to write about it.
My support systems collapsed.
And I needed people,
I felt like I was being emotionally manipulative,
But I couldn’t spare the mentally energy to check my filters,
See if they were clearing the air before I spoke it.
And I felt abandoned.

I had a day when I felt vulnerable.
A half-hearted breeze could have whipped me.
On those days, I want to hide,
But then the day is over,
The feeling isn’t,
And I have to go into work like normal.

I needed to talk to my mother yesterday,
She called me today.
She told me how to live my life,
Her prophecies for the future,
And, really, what she knows to be true.
Then she told me her “stories”
I was so mad from the first section,
I didn’t bother with the minor sexism, and that little bit of racism that came
with her helping the poor, new african family from church.

My step-father is thirty thousand in debt.
That’s more than I make in two years.
I try so hard to only spend thirty dollars a week on groceries,
I don’t get to buy ice cream. I only buy half a gallon of milk.
It’s not fair.
That’s all I want to say.

She asked me if I thought game night last night would be more fun with men.
I said I was the wrong person to ask,
I don’t really like people.
She can’t process that other people work differently than she does.
I’m not sure why she’s a teacher,
If she doesn’t have the patience to understand,
That her normal isn’t my normal.
I learned that the first week of college,
After living with a woman who folded her dirty clothes.

I got searched and rescued.
Her dad came to pick us up in his truck.
And they called it in so they could get mileage reimbursement.

I was the slowest when we were walking
Walking the miles to get cell phone service,
And they called me a little bitch for it.
I can only offer excuses.
I suppose I am, then.
I can show you my bloody, snowy socks.
I can’t make you feel my nausea that whole night,
Or the pressure of my sinuses with my cold medicine,
Or the three-day long insomnia battle that scrambled my brain.
My hips that ached because I didn’t wear my inserts.
I am, in most cases, an introvert,
I need planning time before I can be okay in a crisis.
And I was useless when we got stranded, because it had never happened before.
I can only apologize for not being better.
But god it hurts when they mock a weakness,
It’s why I’m quiet in the first place.
Maybe they would’ve handled my body better,
But there’s no way to tell.