Poem:Some Don't Even Know

It's like we're

both

waiting, wounded, worried

animals.

Waiting for the other

to come help.

But neither of us

is strong enough

to go to the other.

Angry, defeated,

and torn.

Screaming at our beloved

in "righteous" fury

at their (and our)

disability/inability

to Help.

The World Is Made

Like This.

Guilt the other to action.

Shame them into moving,

then reward them

for obeying your whims.

Like training a pet,

or abusing a child.

Poem: Some Don't Even Know

It's like we're

both

waiting, wounded, worried

animals.

Waiting for the other

to come help.

But neither of us

is strong enough

to go to the other.

Angry, defeated,

and torn.

Screaming at our beloved

in "righteous" fury

at their (and our)

disability/inability

to Help.

The World Is Made

Like This.

Guilt the other to action.

Shame them into moving,

then reward them

for obeying your whims.

Like training a pet,

or abusing a child.

Poem: My Best

I am of the Upper, Lower Class.
Having the coveted
Federal Disability Money.
Living in the dreamed of
section 8 funded
single room occupancy.
I have serious
Physical
and Mental
Disabilities.
Yet not so "serious" as say,
Cancer,
or AIDS.
So though I am,
Mortally Ill,
I do not get the excuse
of something "fatal."
The Power of
"Real Sickness."
Yes, I'm viewed as disabled,
but "not as disabled as..."

Stuck in the Middle.

I am of the Upper, Lowest Class.
Poor,
but not the poorest.
Disabled,
but not the most so.
Downtrodden yes,
but one who can
"do _something_ for themselves,
if they really wanted to."

A pretend sickness?
Fuck You.

I do my best.

Poem: Love-Pusher

Wanting it your way,
always just your way;
You and the future
and the plans
and lastly, though,
lastly, Me.

I try so hard
not to get too connected;
for both our sakes,
though I don't think you see that.

Playing games like a kitten,
just the edge of ferocity,
the glimmer of death,
in it's eyes.

Nature, the Hunter.

Your hunting does not stop,
once you have me.
Still you must force me through grates,
channels, analysis, obedience-training,
learning to come when you call,
to do whatever you want...

Unfair?
Perhaps.
It is as it is.

I want you truly and directly.
All pomp and circumstance be damned!
I want you directly.
Body to body,
Mind to Mind,
Soul to Soul.

Throw away these "tests" of my office,
the "games" of my affection for you.
Trust in me Lover,
come to me, Lover,
Make me as worthy,

as your Drug Pusher.

Poem: Youth (#2?)

Out of nowhere I remember being young and doing drugs. Driving our brains like test computers or NASA take-offs; Uppers, downers, trancers, trippers, dancers, and more. Pulling our brains in any and every direction, testing our physical Life's boundaries and sanities.
We didn't all get out unharmed. I know I didn't. Though the "knowledge" we gained, the exclusivity I've attained, the smaller circles I'm a member of...

Leave me searching far away.
But forever close to home.
In the days that I was free.

Poem: Pants Crapper

Tired of feeling sorry for you,
tired of watching you
feel sorry for yourself.

Self-Pity is a disgusting Thing.
I know.
I've wallowed in it for years.

Watching you crapping your pants,
refusing to clean it up,
not letting me clean it...

What should I do?

The disrespect you show yourself
shines into my eyes,
making me angry.
Wanting to yell at you:
"Clean your ass!
Change your underwear!
For Christs sake,
get some toilet paper!"

But you don't.

You just keep looking at me
and crying,
shitty pants around your ankles.

Poem: Looking at Now

It's not looking like
my life
is going to get better.
This awful, suicidal, feeling
of failure and pointlessness
(for me)
never leaving,
never ceasing.

All alone, now.
All fingers point at me.
I don't know how I got so weak,
don't know when I became so...
beaten.

But it feels like forever,
now.
I can't imagine a way out.
My options seem so few.
It sometimes seems
I was better off
homeless;
At least then I was
driven.

Life was never meant to be so
alone.
I always had people,
when I was younger,
and wherever I went
I found new people too...

I never imagined
that would change,
but it did.
Experiences drove stakes between
Me and Others;
from abuse, to jail,
to addiction, to homelessness.

Now my life is a
vast, empty, plain,
with a voicemail every 200 miles
and maybe a few emails
blowing through the empty sky.
There are no people any more.
Even the people who pretend to be people,
don't stay for long.
Just a flash in the pan
of my emptiness.

All my very real physical pains;
no longer matter who is at fault.
Because they are there.
Because they are real.
Because nobody
except "I"
have to deal with them.

All my semi-real
mental and emotional pains
no longer have any meaning.
They're real.
They refuse to leave.
And no one
can do anything about it
except Me.

Alone,
in pain,
cut off from warmth,
the only one to blame is me.
Every day I get worse.
Or every day I get better.
It's all up to me.
No back-up.
No best-friend.
No lover, parent, mentor,
pet, or Angel.

Sitting in the corner of my room,
surrounded by blankets,
I cry and cry.

The pain in my back
forces me to
leave my room
for a walk.

Will I look back at this time
and laugh?

I think not.