Categories
Writing

The Adrenaline We Crave

Shaky hands please calm

Upset tum please settle now

But please don’t leave me

Categories
Writing

Oopsie Daisy

Coffee, pen, journal

I told the page a secret

Blotting out the sin

Categories
Writing

Don’t Answer

The moment he calls

I want to be by his side

Like how a leash works…

Categories
Writing

Find AA In Your Area

Severed ties while drunk?

Crying over a glass now?

What more will it take?

Categories
creative nonfiction Poetry Writing

May 12, 2014

“During midnight skies, I watch the moon fall out of love with the stars.” – Unknown

Like a painting, I was unfinished. And you like to start projects, but not ever complete them. Until my frontal lobes developed–until I was a fully completed sculpture, I could not finish this poem. Confusion of that time stuck like putty in the holes of my frontal lobes.

Categories
Writing

Schedule Monster

When I wake up I want to be a grown-up. And I’ll tell you why. Every night after dinner, my mom and dad tell me we have a big day planned tomorrow and tell me all the things we have to do. And every night after talking about it all, I just wish for once there was nothing to do all day. But when I said this to mom and dad last night, they told me that living without a plan was a surefire way to attract the schedule monster. The schedule monster runs around in your brain asking you (1) what you’re going to do (2) why you don’t have a plan for the day (3) why you don’t have a plan for your life, all day over and over because there was no plan. I asked if that still happens when you become a grown-up and they said yes. So why do I want to be a grown-up when I wake up? Because then at least I can decide what time to have dinner.

Categories
creative nonfiction Writing

hour for hour

My dog stares at me with glossy, saddened, yearning eyes. So I stop tasks I’ve started and pick him up, peppering him with kisses. Until moments later when he wants to be put down again and then I am left to start all over. And each time I leave a little more saddened.

Categories
Writing

Leaning In

Replying to the last of my clients and closing Outlook, I lament the ticket to D.C. that will go unused tonight. I fight back a tightness in my throat that I’ve come to understand needs two fingers of whiskey to solve at the end of the day. No one did this to me.

I always said you’re not ready to start your own company until you can’t remain at any other company.

Truthfully, I let myself steal from myself. I stole my future from myself. Procrastinating to avoid managing emotions about living. The reward of putting things off…that feeling becoming an addiction in itself. A dream adjacent my true dream.

My vision for this company is like rain. Cleaning out self-pity and distractions that tug at my memory, emotional reserves, concentration, and—

“¿Qué cenamos?”

“Dejame…”

He scurries away like I’ve just raised my hand to slap him. Maybe he’ll ask his father and be scared enough to actually leave me alone. I love my kids. I love my kids. I love them. But I can’t love my clients, kids, boss, husband, churchgoers, everyone! Can I?

I pour the whiskey and set my out of office email with no return date.

Categories
Writing

Playing Fetch With Hearts

Like a yo-yo, I believe I’m playing a game until I realize the string and the yo-yo are both trapped in a dance.

I’ve been here many times before and yet I always feel strange. This is not a home. I’d rather be thrown and have no one come pick me up just to end this love game.

Categories
Writing

Flash Before My Eyes

When the sun is setting on this life I skipped through, I will reverse and replay.

I will watch my life and laugh and cry and never once during a love scene will I have to wonder “what if?”

That is not to say I won’t wince or grimace at the times I embarrassed myself or eschewed self-control.

Inevitably though, I will enjoy the show.

Categories
Writing

Would Old Posts Die Out

Should beasts eat their tail!

Venom… years later, at will

Old posts… not yet dead

Categories
Writing

The View’s Awhile

We can try hiking until we find exactly where the sunrise will look best. But we will end up cold and standing on a tilting rock to get an almost perfect view.

Maybe if we hop in an air balloon—but then that would lead to us freezing away while we chase a pretty skyline.

Categories
Writing

Art

You can choose but one

Nonpolitical space/art

True, he fit his name

Categories
Writing

Mochi Will Cry

(At the end of the 8 page dog boarding packet)

In two (2) sentences only!!!!!! tell us about your dog:

Hello I’m so sorry, but I have to warn you, you cannot raise your voice above a firm ‘calling to’ at my dog because if you do he will cry incessantly and it sounds so sad it’s maddening and not worth the effort to endure or to explain the backstory. Good luck!

Categories
Writing

Writer Who Does Not

Writer who does not:

Separate island, stale wind

No thought, words, sound, life…

Categories
Writing

The Starting Over

I stir the cream into my coffee. The sky is lit with the moon and it keeps me awake enough to race with my thoughts. “Compatible,” I think. I keep getting hit with this word when I least want to hear it. When I make a play for permanence, the other party starts their doubts. “Is it me or her timing?” “Is she consistent?” “Is she looking at me right now?” I don’t want to make them uncomfortable, but I do. And then they hit me with it. “Do you think we’re compatible?” And the next move is crucial. Because once they ask, there is only one correct answer.

Categories
Writing

In-Patients

Knock, hinges, then light

Gentle, cold touch as bill mounts

“like to go home please…”

Categories
Uncategorized

Fitting Ghost

I knew you were true so I boiled inside just looking at you.
Content believing anything outside an adulterer was a solid significant other.


Though, while you were here, I was so so sad, finding myself trailing the house like a sleepwalking phantom. Too exhausted to remember not to be found where I ought not. You married a ghost–a ghost that is so fitting for your temperament.
An eclipse of my whole self.
The listlessness an appropriate darker side.
Where you vowed to stay forever and guard it.
A flag on a shifting side of my moon, determined to be in shadow. While the war on earth began.
The trumpet marking the start of carnage was all of humanity showering my sunlight with arrows. A few billion lanses.

—-

I tilted my head forward a few inches to feel heat cloak my face and steam roll down to my collarbones. I inhaled the fiery gas and it burned through my nose hairs and throat. Like something more than water going through me. Looking into the shiny steel pot I saw flesh double over and whine. The meat would be nearly finished soon so a half sprig of thyme would need to be thrown in. Perfect timing!

“Hon, will you hand me the thyme from the cabinet?”


“What would you have done had I not come into the kitchen?

“Please. This morning is sweet. Just pass the thyme. Please…”
She passed it, but not without something to say about it.

“I’m wondering about that shelf you mentioned a few nights ago. The floating bookshelf?” She pauses waiting for me to respond to something that isn’t actually a question. “The one with the marbled plexiglass?”

I loathe that, regardless of being told a million times over, she insists on believing that if she simply inflicts her tones a certain way, she can goad people into answering for things like a guilty child. She intends to make me speak like a toddler on display because I have frustrated her by something as simple as dry herbs.

“Well, all I’m saying is you look like the proper lumberjack. It’d be nice to get some handiwork out of you is all. Not that I don’t enjoy you making organic food for the dog. It’s just…”

This little dance was the most tiring. I didn’t mind the mother-in-law-like nitpicking or the insinuation that me taking a while to build another bookshelf in the house that I built from scratch with our contractor made me less of a man. And of course I cook my dogs food from scratch. He’s a pure breed for goodness sake! But as is the nature of the storm that is my wife, a purposeful drip can be more uncomfortable than water boarding.

But I told her the same thing I told my sister and mom when they asked. “Hon, you are worth every drop of effort.” And it remained true as long as I kept saying it out loud. One day I wouldn’t have to say it at all. That’s my hope. Everyone married over twenty years says it just gets easier after that. We’re six years in and I’m wishing I could time-lapse the next fourteen years. “And you look hot as hell today!”

That seemed to please her and she waltzed out of the kitchen. If it weren’t for the way we level out in bed, I don’t know how long I could’ve kept this up.

“Honey, I’m here for you,” I call after affectionately.

“Well it’s like being here with a ghost!”

Categories
Writing

Love Then Lost

All the while we snooze

Sorrow billows, tears…. pillows

‘Tis better to have…

Categories
Writing

Short Story (Quick Read)

Oh wait… just how short?

Very funny. Real quick read.

Back to tasks at hand…