A Few Depressing Poems and Experimental Writing

(I add to these poems as they arise from time to time)


They tell me

“Keep Breathing”

but can’t they see that breathing is not my problem?

I — am — breathing.

In fact,

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

but more

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

and yet

my true face

is terribly disfigured —

this is the only face

that others seem to see.

My Grandmother’s Grave

I never visited my grandmother’s grave

not because I did not love her

I loved her very much

but she was never in her body

why would she dwell within it now?

Shirt Pocket

Although I love you

this is something that I keep to myself

like a photo in my shirt’s left pocket

pressed closely to my heart

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