flurry

i get them a lot...
the little static explosions
that erupt inside my head
as reflex and reaction
to all the static in the world
of people and people in cars
that flurry past and through
even the most private moments
in the form of thoughts
ideas and memories
that corrupt the socially constucted
need for self care, for "me time"
that i call "time out"
because it makes me feel
like a child without the same worries
as the adult version of me
and lets me focus less on me
and more on all the little flurries
popping and spatting inside my head

soul twist

a bright colored button down shirt
torso twisting underneath

limbos to the front of the line
for some childish drink

with whipped cream
and seasonal sprinkles on top

and has a dumb name
like merman ale or unicorn breath

that the happy shirt wearing arms
grasp eager and enthusiastic

accompanied by big brown eyes
and a goofy grin that makes you smile back

despite your desired demeanor
of stoic, skeptic, cynical...

miserable. you prefer people think
of you as a miserable bastard

but this bright and shiny unicorn
of a soul twists all your insides

into knots of joy and contempt
while you sip on your bitter bean water

walnut

molars clamp down
to break open the shell

churn

pulled and tossed
handled rough
under the churn
of the day after day
after day after day

Split

the skin on the back of my hands
cracks and splits in the winter
like ice fissures formed from the cold
and dry side effect of artificial heat
manufactured from electricity and gas

where

where did i put
that book of poems you gave me?

the one with the poems about love
and flowers and sunsets

the book with the red cover
and the little picture

of a girl who i think
looks a bit like me.