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"It’s kinda nice”.

Honestly when the bird stopped being a frog it didn’t know how to live 

It had ideas of what it was supposed to do, but no when where how or to 

are birds supposed to listen to music? 

It did know it needed rest

to sleep in peaceful manifest 

and there was born the bird’s nest!

 

Now it’s not like the others

it’s got twigs, and cotton and the sock of someone’s grandmother

but the bird had a bed and there it laid its head 

half turned, eyes shut, then someone said

“Hey bird what’re you sleeping on, isn’t it kinda weird?"

“No it’s not,” the bird cried, “how’d you even get here?”

The someone laughed and the bird said thank you

and it slept in its bed until the fall of the new moon.

 

-written for the sun 

​

​

true avoidants

 

I see the stray cat in the tiger 

The scared sheep in the wolf 

Follow their existence in hopes for the acceptance 

You’ve earned it, the slimy frog in the dry wings of the bird

You’re perfect, the hummingbird that sips when it starts to pour 

Live once more, for the awaited smile of captive seal forced to perform 

I love the charm in the leer’s cocky smile

The crown of the one thought kings 

I love spotting the first love to approach the princess’ tower

and the prisoner learning they are seen 

Making play dates amongst inner children 

For we all had a beginning 

 

For i am love and that is what im meant to see 

​

a message on self doubt 

 

zeus wisdom and the fly

 

Lost the battle against the voice in his head 

It’s as common and weak as a fly 

But even that thought compounds the headache

the heartache

the feeling he should not feel things

coldest shoulder when all he wants to do is hold her

those quiet nights.

Stupid buzzing in his ear, how he’s not good enough

an irritation’s hum.

Makes the self smaller; the longing longer 

too much there yet he can blame no one. 

blocked his own freedom. 

 

“Help him!” but there’s no release from the mind. 

The child died, the chance died.

love undone to lowly pride,

the quiet anger of suicide.

 

[You’re mourning him, but he’s also the reason there’s something to mourn in the first place.]

 

-inspired by the myth of zeus and metis 

19

I experience people and that was my experience 

in tandem with other people I experience myself, through the lens of my experiences 

 

20

Blue convertible on a sunny day 

 

Bask in the sun watch the day go by

wind caresses your face can’t you feel that high?

too fast to slow down so close now 

won’t find nowhere to go driving round 

21

“I am hurt because I expected more, not because I was unworthy.”

 

the King to a King

 

[After years of promises, the prince begged to rule the kingdom. [?]This is the response]

 

I spent a month drinking myself into a stupor. I see you’ve made a mess

 

“You’re calm”. The surprise escaped his lips before his words had a chance to make sense of them

 

“You dare express your insolence out loud?”. The king poured himself a drink, each wave of liquor sounding like a 

 

“I have been waiting for you, watching you, nursing you back into greatness, and this… is the fruit of that vision. Once so ripe, so full of potential and easy to maintain. Now as rotten as the bodies in the cities decimated by your greed"

 

“You wished for wealth! I was giving you what you asked!” 

 

“Really? Printed in pools of blood?” 

 

“Trust is a fickle thing, do you know how you earned it?”… “By standing in awe in my shadow. my belief in you was self involved, and blind”. He let the drink pour over, watching the tinted waterfall like he was watching his pain and regret: with empty, timeless eyes. 

They scared the boy to speech.

 

“Father, I know I have disappointed you and for that I am sorry. None of us could have forseen what those changes would have done to our trade with Geneva. We worked tirelessly to remedy it before you arrived but—“

 

‘Tirelessly?” For once there was a smile. The man lifted the jug from its pour, amused. One of the female servants (the rest standing there like an unwilling crowd on top of the stage) rushed to clean the mess but the man shoed her away. Instead, keeping his expression, the man took notice of the red soft chair next to the warm red fire, walked over, sat in it, and stared at the puddle on the floor. THe boy trembled inside. He had never seen his father like this. Anything close to this emotion was untouchable and ask? He never dared. 

 

“I am so tired.” The boy raised his brows. A servant, ever so carefully, asked if he   would like to be taken to his quarters. The King stared at the puddle of whiskey on the floor across the room. What followed was confusion: the boy waving the servant away also unsure what to do, talking to his father about what he might be worried about—the tanking economy, the new higher tax regulations, the barrage of working women literally in the next room—spiraling more and more with every answer of silence, every telling, silent answer. The King lounged in the chair, and stared at the puddle of whiskey on the floor next to the wall. Eventually the boy straightened his crown and yelled at the servants to clean it, condemning their laziness. The servants scuttled and cowered on. Alas the King rose.

 

“The mess you’ve made of yourself is not their burden.” He observed into the depths of his son’s eyes. “And it is not mine. That crown is worth the polished rocks that made it and the jeweler’s expensive time. I am not in pain because I left, I am in disappointment, because I left, and you stayed in folly”. 

 

“Father!” 

 

There was more The King had to say, more to be said, but those were the last words before he shut the door. 

spend a lot of time outside my mind 

 

Friends ask where I go but I don’t know where I am

Detached I guess

Stuck in the burrow of my memory

a stare a thousand yards away 

sometimes i don’t know the place 

friends ask if it’s nice but i don’t know where i go 

and that’s not something for them to know 

dissociation

in and out of sleep 

it’s not not a nice thing

this is not about a pre-marital dispute

 

“We need—

“No we don’t.”

“I just said we did.”

“And I just said we don’t.” 

“perhaps some tissues then? That’ll fix the stain!”

“Nothing will make it go away.”

“A blanket then, it’ll keep us warm!”

“Which one? They’re all old and worn.”

“There has to be something that will fix this rift between us.”

“A prenup.”

…

“Or some new shoes, I know you like those!”

“Anything to stop you stepping on my toes.”

“Perhaps a throne room then, or maybe it all depends;

on your temper on your timeframe on your distance"

“We could get a cape to cloak all your shame”

“We could get a mirror so you can see who’s to blame” 

“Perhaps some new furniture so I can sit while you complain” 

 

“’get me out of this house” they said, though the doors aren’t locked."

…

what a paradox

 

[fading words] 

 

“You little-!” 

 

VA