2022 Poem Twenty-Four

One More


One more trip to the bathroom.

One more poem.

One last hour.

One more drink.

One more hit of my vape.

One more distraction.

One more pet of my cat.

One more fresh squeezed idea.

One more pen.

One more round of encouragement.

One last panic.

One more pet of my other cat.

One more time to not be able to read my handwriting.

One more Spotify playlist.

One last blog post.

One more notebook page.

One more snack to get me through.

One more emptying of my ashtray.

One more pet of my roommate’s cat.

One more train of thought is gone.

One more procrastination.

One more thing to say.

One last time to hit the Publish button.

24 poems in 24 hours.

2022 Poem Nineteen



Life is a McDonald’s ice cream machine,

always broken, and I am high in the drive thru at 2am.

I cannot check a McBroken that does not exist.

There’s no FTC to investigate.

All of Life’s competitors make sure to mock me on their marquees

being sure to remind me of what I cannot have.

2022 Poem Eighteen

A Vegetarian’s Nightmare


The long line of tail lights barely illuminate the

Parking lot that’s still too wet from earlier’s rain.

The sky has no moon, no stars,

only clouds drunk on the threat of more puddles

to fill this under cared for and overused drive thru.

The line creeps slower and my stomach louder.

I swear it’s caving in on itself at twice the speed we’re moving.

Once I’m close enough to the speaker to hear

shouts of my order reach the relic of Y2K.

One large Baja Blast and six spicy potato tacos, please.

Excitement mounting for the inevitable nuptials

of cannabis and tacos.

Static with a hint of human voice announces:

We discontinued potatoes as part of discontinuing breakfast.

Would you like to order something else?

I’m now a deer in the headlights;

A building being demolished;

The first balloon a toddler loses to the sky.

No more potatoes? No more spicy potato tacos?

My will to consume Taco Bell is gone.

Uh… I’ll take four cheesy bean burritos then.

2022 Poem Sixteen

I Have Made Mistake But You Weren’t One


Every scroll through my camera roll

shows me that stark amber circle hugging hazel eyes barely clinging to life.

Every photo is full of

mossy greens, grey blues that rival the North Atlantic, and honey browns.

The beauty is there, it can’t be missed, but the life is missing.

Smiles plastered on your face say more about unhappiness than anything else.


I have made mistakes but you weren’t one.


You survived 29 years stuffed in one closet or another.

Each one filled with ill fitting outfits of expectations.

You tried and tried and tried to make them fit.

You knew every mistake,

every piece of clothing that wasn’t you,

would bring you to me.


I have made mistake but the time I spent as you wasn’t one.

2022 Poem Fifteen



Being naked with you was

the least intimate thing we could do.

My bare skin covered in our sweat

was a shield for my heart and spirit.

There was nothing you could do to my body

that would hurt me more than anyone else had.

My secretly fragile skin is my only shield.

I might not have been ready to bare my soul

but you were never worthy of it.

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