Cory. 3

He screams at me

A lion cubs mouth

Of silver teeth

Like bullets he’s chewed

One day he came back from the dentist

And he showed them to me

Smile as wide as the horizon

Beautiful, but

Red

He spit at me

Exchanging Saliva for syllables

I grabbed his hand

Trying to be gentle

But he refused.

He screamed

Then walked near me

I saw tears that seemed like family

Familiar and consistent

I told him his anger was understood

But not tolerated

His Batman shoes were at my knees

He yelled.

Shiny teeth.

He put away his power

So I put away mine.

And while he breathed in between his tears

I remembered where his power came from

And I held his hand.

Purpose

Will I be transformed

A piece of granite

Made into art

People gawk and I remain beautiful

A historical masterpiece

Poised for humanity to admire

 

Will I be remembered?

A book written

That grows with the universe

And you flip through my pages

And find meaning in every letter

A story that can be recited to an audience

Waiting to be told what to think.

 

Will I be loved

Shrines dedicated to my honor

A religion that rises

Worships my steps

A journey copied by thousands

In hopes of being this close to me.

 

Will I be forgotten

This old man he

Faked his death

To bury his family with loneliness

As he watched for tears

Salted with pain and sorrow.

A terrible thing to digest.

A Nightmare

You have your grandmas face

it’s beautiful

And haunting

Like your shadow

Betraying you in the dark

Like a tree

Something beautiful

Transformed into an illusion

A monster.

When the moon shares its light

Sometimes when you laugh

Her chin appears on your face

And it scares me

Cause her blood is in you

Deep red with a veiled purpose

My sweet girl

With your grandmas blood

That craves for a monster.

A nightmare.

M.G.B

Your lips

Look like something I could float on

And when u laugh

That dimple winks at me

As if it knows I’m waiting for it

And if I’m close enough

I can hear your heartbeat

A rhythmic melody

A Smooth and consistent lullaby.

And your hands

Textured and thoughtful

Creeping up my thigh

Just enough to get warm.

I let them stay there long enough

And then I push them to their destination.

So you can explore me in detail

And turn me into a poem.

Titans Hand

I feel myself crumbling

By force

Of a weight that feels like a titans hand

By a burden I’ve given myself

I am atlas.

I watch myself

In the mirror

And there’s questions in my eyes

I am too embarrassed to answer

Even when I’m alone

I’m insincere.

I cry.

A haunting low wail.

Quiet enough to mean something

Not loud enough to share.

I hold my knees as tight as I can

This is how I keep it together.

Stars Are The Cure For Insomnia

I stare longingly at the stars

Head tilted up

Like a soft hand reminding me of who I am

A thought

Travels to Vega

The asterisms above

Everything is too big for me to answer correctly

But I try

I cloud my head with pulsating thoughts of luminosity and light years

Away from things that tie me to insomnia

Things that chain me to tomorrow

they suffocate me.

I toss and turn

A restless soul.

I escape to the night

And find myself in a constellation.

A cancer.

I think of Jovian planets

And methane rain

canabalistic galaxies.

I think of tornadoes that could consume earth

Sibling stars that never leave each other’s side

And everything

Seems so

Small.

As I sleep.