Never Let Me Go

A bit on the experimental side, mainly with the rhyming. I tend to not rhyme whenever I write “vent poems,” so I decided to give it a shot this time.


Nowhere to run –
Nowhere to hide –
Out only to have a little fun,
Then it’s back to the grind.

You can’t keep me around forever

The burden that is you weighs a ton –
It’s a miracle my back is still intact
From caring for you – Remind me, am I your son
Or your husband? Is the “crippled mother” just an act?

You can’t keep me around forever

Can’t do this –
Can’t do that –
A new chapter of my life starts and you hiss
Anger is your soul – it’s how you always react.

I can’t stay here forever

For the first time, I found love –
I hope our souls intertwine –
I hope Peace descends like a dove
Upon this house – you and I are in a bind.

I won’t stay single forever

Consistently a disappointment, you have a list
Of every mistake I’ve made that makes you upset –
Your only child might as well not exist,
Or at least be a memorable vignette.

You shouldn’t hate yourself forever

All I ask is to be let go
Before winter comes
And I’m buried with snow,
Leaving you in the doldrums –
Sons won’t last forever,

But they must be on their own

Substance Abuser

First poem of 2016…starting off real great. Anyway, enjoy.


Every Time.
Every Time I establish a
mutual connection with another and
I open my heart to them and
they open theirs to me – I
can’t help but lose myself
over them – they
become an Obsession slowly
working its way through every
orifice in my brain –
Every Time I hope they
might be the one for me – not
to make me whole but to
connect – to make us
greater than we could
alone. Yet it seems
I Obsess over the disinterested –
I Obsess over the “I’m not ready” –
I Obsess over the happily mated – and
when quitting is an option another
Obsession appears and consumes
my heart – I remember
this behavior has burned away
inside me like acid – it has shoved
me close to death’s door. How do I
quit this behavior for good? Or
should I even quit the search – the
constant chasing of tails? Or maybe
jealousy is eating at me and
I’m afraid of being alone with no
companion. Perhaps my heart
is made of mercury – it
melts so easily – but it has
already melted.

Chambers in an Organ

You have weighed it down by keeping your mind
saturated with stress and unearthed dreams
you kept buried in the chambers
of your heart – they are easier to achieve
without that covalent bond of another.
As productivity increases, stress decreases;
it will gradually rise to the top of your mind
and make your heart lie that it’s empty
because you don’t have another to share it with.

You feel the chambers collapse in on themselves –
soon, you won’t be able to support them yourself.
Your heart is smaller,

emptier,
heavier;

the thought of not finding another is
floating at the top of your mind now.

The chambers are now flooded.

A Late-Night Storm

I revealed my true self to a community of
those who claim to love me –

one member decided to voice her opinion
on the matter, one that was more like

an annoying mosquito
buzzing in my ear. She openly

questioned my sex life, yet
is that not a taboo subject
among close-minded followers of God?

Puberty happened to the old me,
the sheltered me.
I’m fully aware that

penis plus vagina equals snoo snoo, and
not penis plus anus –

don’t act like I’m stupid.

This brainwashed zombie continued
harassing me on the matter, as did others who
agreed with the old-fashioned, 50s American lifestyle.

I told them I was done –

no longer did I want to
associate myself with fag haters. Now

I’m a lost cat without a home –
wandering, searching, hoping for a better life
filled with a love that God intended.

I hope this torrent doesn’t come
to pass. Was this merely

late-night wanderings of the mind?
A prophetic vision of what’s to come?

Or a warning.

At least the graphite flaked off
onto the paper – now the
self-healing process begins

again.

Past Lives

They say cats have 9 lives;
I’ve already lost 7.
Every time I changed my
residence, every time I changed
schools, every time I change
communities of Christians, they
become a past life long gone. Any
relationships or lessons I’ve acquired in
these past lives are taken –
some remembered,
most forgotten.

I have her to thank for that.

It’s as if when I begin to
bloom like a tall, strong sunflower to
my fullest potential, or when I just made
magnetic connections with others
who could help me grow –
it’s all for naught upon
relocation. She might as well

have told me: I
accidentally made a
poor life decision –
others hate me for no reason –
our lives are in shambles
right now; pack up, get in the car,
we’ll have to start over again
and again
and again
and again
and – STOP!
No more!
Please!
I’m down to 2 lives. I want
them to mean something
for a change. Never before have I
made connections so strong; I feel it
in my heart for once. Never before have I
acquired so much knowledge and wisdom; for once,
I’m on the right path.

Don’t take it all away
from me.

Sometimes
I wonder if all I am is
a burden to you, preventing
you from being wealthy and comfortable.
If this is so, if
money’s your highest priority,
why haven’t you
booted me out of your life yet?
Why didn’t you
allow me to die when I was
born so weak?

I’m sure this
isn’t what you wanted;

I never wanted this either.

Stop This Cycle of Depression

Day in, day out; everything’s
the same every day.
My joints crack, muscles stiff –

I’m up at 5 AM – but
only on weekdays.
It’s an easy, Sunday ride to
my place of employment – a place
where scents of propane, sweat, cigarettes,
and depressing thoughts that won’t come true
creep their way into my
striped fur. From this place that
reeks of desperation, I take part
in a mini marathon on two wheels –
any energy reserved when the sun bakes
the landscape, after putting
my 8 hours in
is gone.
I came home to a

sad story that is my
caretaker, or so I’d like to
imagine. The pattern of this
story is the same;
new job, lost it, move
new job, lose it, move
new job, lose it, move –

Can we please not move anymore?

Like most felines, I need to
analyze and drink in
my environment. I need to

make lasting friendships and
find a mate who’s
perfectly complementary with my soul,
female or male, doesn’t
matter to me; it shouldn’t
matter to you.

Goodbye caretaker. Thanks
for what you’ve done
to me. I’ll be with those
who seem to enjoy living, those
who relate better to animals and fiction
more than people in their lives, those
who can be their true self
by pretending to be
something they’re not.
I am one of these people –
imprinting myself as an
anthropomorphic tiger for
all the world to see –

take it or leave it.
I’m not striving for
your standards
anymore.

Self-Surgery on the Soul

I’ve been poked and prodded at with
needles filling my newborn veins with
God knows what; I’ve been sliced open
so that they could invade my
abnormal heart and
dig out a hole to keep my
infant body alive; maybe
these same people pierced my body
to install something artificial,
something man-made,
to keep my growing body alive. And yet,

I keep searching – for someone out there
who might fill in my soul
to keep me happy – for something to
keep me alive. All thanks to
Death for vacating a
part of my soul I
never got to know. I’ve
gotten desperate; I don’t care
what they look like. As long as
that part of me is filled and
I am still alive, I am happy.