Insurmountable

We are

the expendables-

how extraordinary

is the notion

that we could be gone

from this world

tomorrow

maybe some people

weren’t made

for this world-

their pain is felt

more than most.

It is all relative.

Contextual, at best-

the differences in

our lives,

insurmountable

 

JHF

Advertisements

Risk

I often wonder what it feels like

to be you

A lyric stolen from a song

A line of a poem

never to be published

The intangible things

are somehow just as critical

as the ones

screaming at you.

The crimson red flags

you choose not to trust

at first

How does it feel to be perceived

as a risk

to someone else’s well-being?

How does it feel

to be perceived at all?

Friends

Friends, you said

friends is what you’d like to be.

My friendship means the world to you,

you said.

Another reason

why trusting people’s words

never comes easy to me.

Maybe your

definition of friendship

is different than mine.

Friends don’t hurt

each other-

At first I considered

taking you up on this friendship option-

Yes, please, I said.

And instantly regretted it.

You said,

not yet,

anyway.

Maybe someday.

Fuck you.

Captive

I watched you from afar

though I couldn’t see you,

and I still wonder where you are,

a part of me sees you

gazing under the stars.

 

And dear,

even with all of the friction,

the manipulation and confusion,

even with all of the fear

 

I still hold you near.

There’s a part of me

that will not release you

or am I simply

still your captive my dear?

Little Fixes

Center of the day begins to unfold

Already gone through the marshes and mixes

Alive & full,

Lick our lipses

Do what we can to get our fixes

Skin as oily

as Honeydew

You caught me in a full-on looptiloo

Getting Right

In attempts to avoid folding within myself
I sit numbly
Your possible rejection of me
Collides into a forgotten, yet nostalgic fear
Creating unforgotten insecurities
Memories of the past start flooding in
But the boulders are too high and sharp
The lack of words become deafening
I just want to cover my ears
And cry out of relief
Over holding in the washed up emotions
That I tried so hard to flee from
Spending countless days and hours
Looking in and Distracting from myself
Getting over someone, and
Getting right with me.

Validation

 

With grace
I see you pace
throughout the corridor,
concern lavished upon your face.
But it always comes back to me
and I get curious, what is it in you
that I see? That draws you to me?
At the end I understand it’s my
desperation
But in the beginning it feels like
magical procession.
It’s insights like these, I’d rather keep to myself,
frustrations rooted in
lack of respect for self,
kinder words for the reality-
a putrid, decaying necessity
of external validation,
your hands on me,
telling me everything’s ok.

j.f.

Written on 10.2.15

6th & Lincoln

Giant moving monsters
Red, White, Silver, Gold.
Other vehicles
of souls,
walk around, pedestrian-like
Some with signs
made of cut-up boxes,
box lettering etched
into the cardboard.
Pleas of help
in the form of money.

Humankind
Both
Is what it says.
Human. and Kind.
Humankind.
We’re all here,
sharing this world,
this planet,
this ground.
He hands her
a bag of food.
We’re all the same,
me and you,
him and her.
We come from
the same place,
the same space,
born into the same world.
But we’ve forgotten.

We’ve become careless,
ignorant, impatient.
Do you ever
stop- cease
what you’re doing
every once in a while
and look-
just notice-
what’s happening around you?
Do you ever appreciate it?
Laugh at it?
Cry at it?
Just be in it,
apart of it.
You already are,
sometimes it just
takes recognition,
and the world
becomes a more
beautiful place.
Your problems seem
a little less
significant
when compared
to the bigger scheme of things.

It makes me smile.

Awkward

Silence stills me-

us-

sharing the same space,

in the same room.

Unknowing of what

to say, he pulls out his

device which connects

him to the technological outside

world. A connection that

makes more sense

than what’s going on in this room.

Something to fill his mind,

something to take his time,

something to allow him to rewind.

 

Surrounded by the awkward,

the silence,

I could mutter a sound-

to break the confusion.

Instead I give him

his own satisfaction-

and start staring at my

screen-

and write.

The only thing that

makes sense to me.