OCD

Sitting on a black chair
in the corner
next to the wooden closets
and more importantly
the electrical outlet
I’m wishing for more milk
to come
so I can feed you
into
eternity–

Empty Sink

Why am
I afraid to write
The thing that kept me sane
for so long
For
Months
Even years
you stood by me
Words
Dripping so fast
The
Faucet
To
Time
Filling up the sink
My soul
Like raindrops
To grow–

Chance to

are you back yet
in the corner recesses of my mind
waiting
lurking
like a selfish bumble bee
sucking up all the
flower juices
stealing all the essence
before I have a
chance to breathe–

To Write

how is it that
i have not written a poem
in so many days
they pass
like whispers in the wind
disappear like cats
underneath the house
blackness enveloping
my soon to be carcass
if i do not take the moment
to stop
to breathe
to write–

Presents

the voices in your head
they said
they said
that the whispering you heard
was about you
instead it was just
a small fraction of the universe
giving birth to itself
again and
again and
again
except you weren’t evolved enough
yet
to accept 
its 
pre
sence–

Trust

Today you said
you’re really happy
to be working with me
and trust that I can
teach more than
anyone else you know–