A Tree Falls

She just cant loose!

So cute. So fluffy. So adorable.

I Have Not Changed

I still carry

that fear of you

of your dissappointment and

anger.

I still fail

to see what is important

what I need to be doing and

how I can do it better.

I still wait

for salvation to deliver me

instead of moving my own

two legs to walk

I still think

that I can fix myself

even though time has shown that

I cannot get up alone.

I still hope

to never be a burden

nevermind the burden I am

to the world I take from.

I still allow

my passions to be tainted

by approval, by fear, by time

as I run myself ragged for you.

I still shudder

when I hear a ping

wondering whether it is praise

or deep, vitriolic scorn

I still fear

that the beautiful, wonderful, spectacular people around me

will retract their blessings

and leave me godless.

I still fear that I am not worth a second of your time.

This Bottled-Up Rage

Hey, dad. You've given me a lot over the years. You've given me everything I have. You've pushed me to everything I did well.

You've also given me a lot of rage. You've given me a lot to hate about. You've given me a lot of trauma.

There's a lot that I want to say here but I can't. Because that would be stupid. Of course it would.

And so I'm stuck now with this mass of boiling rage and hatred and all of it

This fucking stupid idiotic terrible legacy you've passed down

Just hate hate hate nothing but hate just hate

Rage against everyone and everything

But don't actually say it out loud

Just keep it all tucked away

Like a shelf with

ten thousand

big bottles

of rage

tucked

safely

away

.

What It Means To Vote

Lies, lies, lies, all the way down.

Do you ever really stop and think about who you're even talking about?

Do you ever think who gains off cheating you? Who wants you to stay stupid?

Do you ever think about what it means to vote?

You are deciding the fate of a society. You choose feast or famine.

So why, really, do you choose the man who has lied to you time and time again?

Why do you want the man who has shot you and left you for dead?

What the actual fuck is going on inside your head?

Do words even matter to you anymore? Do kindness and empathy mean nothing?

Are you just another sock-puppet of that moneybag in a suit?

Do you not see the bigger picture? The bots, the trolls, the media diversions?

Do you ever even think about what your vote really means?

A rapist, a felon, impeached twice, started an insurgency.

Do you even hear yourself? Do you even look at the man you're touting?

Black guy, have you seen the racism he perpetuates? Woman, have you seen the sexism he himself partakes in? Immigrants, have you seen what he wants to do to you?

Do any of you - any of you - really think about what it means to vote for this man?

Me talking to the therapist voice in my head

"okay, so what do you say when someone says they're not worth anything"

"Who the hell says they're worthless I'll fight them" "Alright, now what should you think when you're the one that feels like you're worthless" "Well I'd be right, I am worthless" "no-"

There is only fear left

I am sitting here.

All alone. By myself.

Bothering nobody.

You come along.

To do whatever. I don't care.

You look at me and sigh loudly.

No, what the fuck?

What was that supposed to mean?

"Nevermind." Nevermind my ass, tell me.

Is what I want to say, but I don't.

Instead I take that bravado and use it elsewhere.

I fake strength as I shrink inside.

I already know you do this bullshit on purpose.

This is something you do all the time.

Always ends the same way.

But it doesn't always end the same.

I'm not the only person in your mind.

So why do I assume it is?

You go and argue with the pacifist bastion.

She yells back. I fear it is about me.

I sneak closer. It is not.

This is the second time that I assumed wrong about your yelling.

You have much bigger troubles than me. I am not important.

So why do I always assume? And why do I always fear?

I have no answers to such questions.

I have no solutions to such problems.

There is only fear left in this husk.

I Fear

I fear

that I am not perfect.

I am not attractive

and I am not well.

I fear

that any effort I make

is doomed to be wasted

like the other efforts I've made.

I fear

that if I change myself

I will no longer be myself

a conformity gained, a uniqueless lost.

I fear

that if I force myself to change

I will force myself through life

and not have enjoyed any of it at all.

I fear

that if I am just "another person"

then I will have lost all chances

of recieving your love.

I fear

that if I help others

naively, kindly, and oh so optimistically

that I will only be disadvantaging myself.

And yet, I help.

I encourage, I uplift, I support.

No matter how naive I may seem

I continue to serve the good of others.

So maybe, this time

This time I can change, truly

for the better, for the best, to be a new me

To push through the fear while keeping me myself

I fear

that I will still not be deserving

of your love; of your kindness; of you

that my efforts will again be wasted

But I will try anyways.

Pushing Me

The Day of Reckoning comes and goes.

I think I am free. I act as if I am free.

You take that freedom away from me.

You say it is for my own good.

I see how much you love me.

But this is not the right way.

You have pushed me my whole life.

Everything I am is thanks to you.

All the glory. And all the pain.

The same boiling water that hardens the potato will soften the egg.

The same heat that purifies the iron also makes it soft.

The same hammer that strikes the nail will cave in my head.

Just one more year, you say. Just one more year until the moment.

Just one more year until I can enjoy my own existence.

Just one more fucking year.

That moment comes and goes and it moves ever further back.

You move the Rubicon South, and you move it further South.

The march never ends. We must push to the Rubicon.

It is always the critical moment. Each battle is the deciding fight.

Each time you promise me that the next fight will be the last.

And each time I believe you.

You were pushing me when I was a child.

You still push me as an adult.

I'm sure you will still push me as an old man.

Pushing me right into that open coffin as you tell me my legs aren't good enough.

I Ask

I repeat my lamentations forevermore

as I repeat the same actions

that create this melancholy suffering.

I ask, "Where has all the joy in the world gone?"

while I push it away and reject every inch

for I am afraid of allowing spring

into my frozen, quiet winter.

I ask, "Where have all the good men gone?"

as I fail to see that I myself

am not a good man,

and thus see little good in others.

I ask, "What can I do to make the right choices?"

as I look at the choices in front of me

the correct one obvious to my discerning eye

and choose the shortsighted option again.

I ask, "How can I be better?"

as I ignore the hard, effortful path to victory

the path taken by everyone else who won

and simply hope greatness will fall onto my silver platter

I ask, "Where is someone who will love me?"

as I fail to see the good in myself

and forget that love, like charity,

starts from within.