You Before Me (I’m Not Mad, Just Broken)

Phil Kaye taught me that

if you repeat something enough,

it loses its meaning.


I have spent so much time

trying to give purpose to your life

that I have lost my own.


I do not know how to tell you

that I am a hypocrite.


I spend so many hours

coaxing the safety back on your gun,

with a finger on my own trigger.


I convince you to live

while planning my death.


I hold hands with my demons

while breaking down yours.


I do not know how to ask for help

because you always request it first.

Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, now available on amazon.


If You Died Tomorrow

If you died tomorrow,

I would not be sad,

at first,

I would be angry.


I would become the selfish one,

painting you the bad guy still-life,

making my newfound pain your fault.


I would ask questions like

“how could you do this to me?”

and “Why didn’t you think of the person you’d hurt?”

before considering how long you suffered,

Or how you thought you were doing favors,

removing the glitch in this system,

erasing a mistake from our lives.

Or how depression planted seeds in your mind,

The suicidal thoughts grew forests in your head,

and all you wanted to do

was burn away the overgrowth.


I would not consider your agony,

I would be outraged

with the way you threw away all that we created

In just a few swallows,

Or swipe of a blade.


If you died tomorrow,

I would be angry

at myself.

For not being there

when you needed a virus protector,

Or a shovel to dig up the roots,

and remove the cause of this tragedy.

I would blame myself

For you no longer having a reason

to stay.


And if you were to die tomorrow,

after all this,

I would show the others the way you made me feel,

and together we would anger those we cared about.

Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, now available on amazon.

All Things Killing You

I used to think the sickness was a virus,

poison from foods, not the beverages,

too young to understand the hangover remedy

of fingers reaching back to pull forward

toxins you ingested willingly.

I stand by, watching a slow suicide,

useless against the monsters you fight,

as addiction continues to hold you hostage.

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You push yourself for the highest position,

expectations exceed capabilities,

a love-hate relationship blossoms

at a point that you worked so hard for.

You appreciate the pay that brings pain

from working past logical possibility.

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The smoke is handled by the wind,

swirling circles make halos

with every drag you take.

Fate’s subtle reminder of a slow death,

you justify it’s coping with stress.

Nicotine whispers sweet nothings in your ear

and you’re addicted to the intimacy it brings.

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Insomnia makes a deal with stress,

shakes the hand that holds your eyelids open,

forcing activity into a restless mind.

He rolls your conscience into a ball

and plays ping-pong with your thoughts,

leaving you awake to keep score.

Fever Dreams

I want to follow you into the

depths of a shadowed unknown.

A place feared, many wish not

to visit such darkness. Blind

for so long, living in the light

of days scares me more than

walking hand-in-hand into

the conjectured oblivion. So,

let us chase the unseen in favor

of surviving all these fever dreams.


The blades in my stomach

are making me sick

cutting my throat

my tongue is slick

with thick red slurs

creating a world from blurred lines

through timed lies

Got a noose tied

but it’s too loose

like the screws in my head

hanging from a few threads

lay me down in a wooden bed

because as alive as I seem, I’m already dead


Didn’t you hear what I said?

I told you, I’m already dead. 

God, why do I feel so dead?


You’re not dead

you’ve just been fed

a lie or ten 

I told you then

I’d see through the end 

and I’m not gonna send

you in the ground

because you let them drown

your thoughts by the pound

so turn it around

I’m here for you

to tighten those screws 

and fight the the lies

that have been spewed

just please, allow me to


I heard what you said, but it’s your turn to listen

Is this really your final decision?

I promise we can break you out of this internal prison


Why can’t you see

It’s too late for me

I can never be

truly happy


It’s not too late

it’s never too late

you’ve just got

an overfilled plate

I can NOT lose you, I’m scared

I swear I’m prepared 

to work you out of that snare 

trapping your mind

just give me some time


This life was mine

I’m sorry, goodbye


If that’s what you choose

I’ll see you soon…