Guilty

Woken by the smallest monster, 
to a street choked in a bus' cough, 
i kick over remnants of doof in the gutter and hoof it to the train, 
late, 
hair splayed in many directions, 
shoes that are covered in bleach, and dancing
the scent of 200 hippies tickling my toes
but i'm happy.
The kind of happy that knows my Goddess is cheering,
where morning nooks and crannies in sleep-filled beds
are busy napping,
where the little monster sees me upside down and cackles,
wrestling a banana in his talon,
much like I wrestle my bag on,
blow a kiss to my dreaming self and
wish for a wealth more of this madness.
What a happy mess this life has become,
and i'm guilty, fingers covered in paint

The final photo you chose as
your profile picture on Facebook,
looks like you know you're leaving,
the image blurry,
Impatience to leave the frame and carry on
with your next adventure,
moving to the left,
looking toward some mysterious corner
of a room we never saw.

I have your videos saved on my computer
cannot yet bring myself to view them all
to see your shining captured in light,
you filmed almost every night,
your actions, thoughts, feelings for us
like you know we would need something to hang onto,
some measure to infiltrate our comforted lives,
to shake us awake to see those unforgiving skies
my god you were beautiful.

I will never know anyone like you,
except maybe your niece,
also named after you,
there is no way to know, whether she will live up to her namesake,
you have left us all some huge shoes to fill,
I don't know anything to say,
this is no longer a poem but a prayer
that if you can hear me,
if you can see this,
let me know you're there, sis,
Let me know you're there.

tick tock
wait for my heart to stop
a lifetime march toward
the end,
as you'd expect, lessened enthusiasm
come on in, I welcome the Numb
please wipe your feet,
step carefully
keep the muck outside and be careful
as you break off these nerve endings,
crush this perspective
tear every paper i've ever written on
into confetti and give it to the wind
let the deadening begin.

Seems like every day of my life
i've been told to sit down shut up,
quiet my heart, lessen my passion,
do what the others do,
fit into the crowd,
don't be so happy, don't be so sad,
don't have your feelings,
why are you so mad?

She must be fucking crazy,
most women are
Put her down, Yell at her,
put her in her place
and watch life fall from her face
life draining from her blood,
all she ever wanted was love and for this
she gets alienation.

So turn off the faucet of feeling
its never helped me anyway,
guilt, fear, shame, tears,
a daily hip-deep puddle to wade through
Turn off my passion to help you
my need for reciprocity
I need nothing but peace and quiet
I need you out of my life
I need support to help me
figure out why i have got it so wrong

Am I really so bad a person?
Don't I deserve affection?
Haven't I tried to love others in their despair
with every inch of my being,
its tearing me apart
and my reward a cold shoulder
for my own breaking heart.