A Few Depressing Poems and Experimental Writing
(I add to these poems as they arise from time to time)
the road is worn thin
we march, blistered and sunburned
hold my hand … I sigh
I — a Single Letter
the word “I” is spelled with one elegant letter
this is to remind us to be humble
yet, too often people mistake this letter for the numeral, one
missing the point of the intended lesson
such people think about themselves only
They tell me
but can’t they see that breathing is not my problem?
I — am — breathing.
I have the lungs of an elephant …
it is just that I am losing air
despite these deep breathes.
You see, I am riddled with holes
from the countless times
that I have been shot down.
Elephants do not die easily
but their long memory
makes for heavy steps.
My ribs cage my heart
in much the same way that my skull imprisons my mind.
It is not so much to keep you out
that I have learned that it is wise
to hold myself back.
I understand the problem.
When I look in the mirror,
a lost child looks back
my true face
is terribly disfigured —
this is the only face
that others seem to see.