Poetry Published on SpillWords Press

So happy to have my poem, “Where Are You, Happiness?” published on SpillWords Press. Do read and tell me what you think.

Happy Reading!


Pick Up The Phone

I never asked you to love me

Just, pick up the phone

Never once made you choose

Your happiness is mine, I cannot lose

No matter where you are, I’ll see you to

The end of the line, because the

cavity created in my heart

only you can seal

I’ll never make you, hurt you, or break you

Just, pick up the phone

Maybe you’ll understand why I let you be

Even when you refuse to talk to me

I can’t destroy what I did not create

Though the negative emotions cloud

And steadily proliferate, they will not bring

The end of my conscious efforts to be still

And let you live, even to the detriment

Of my personal satisfaction and desire

Pick up the phone

Or let me rot away in the mire


There’s no color to life anymore

No green of trees, yellow summer

Or even wintry white

I wish it was even black

Then I could say I moving back

To the happiness I once knew

But every year is another tear

Collected in the bucket of calloused soles

That is the heart of a million lonely miles

Sometimes I wonder if I should walk the rail

Other days are wasted, pushing away her veil

My reality is always somewhere in-between

But what if it didn’t have to be?

“You’ll Never Feel Better”

They don’t know

What they did

To me

I think, if they did

Would they stop


And apologize?

No. The world moves too fast

Too arrogantly to think

That building a bridge

To a young soul that really doesn’t matter

Is a useful expense of its time

It’s not surprising

That people shame those of us

Who struggle in social situations

And condemn us for our lack of empathy

Are the most inconsiderate of all

There’s a double standard, there’s a poison

Infiltrating the fibers of our humanity

It’s okay if I do it, but you can’t

And if you do, it’s okay, but it’s weird

We’ve got names to keep you in line

Keep you down, thinking you’ll never be alright

There’s times I wonder why I’m even alive

I mean, who brings someone into the world

Just to have them clowned every moment

Any time they do something unexpected

Any time they say something unprepared for

We live in such a scripted, such a lame world

I feel like the odd ones, the ones like me

Actually make it better, we add color to you

But you like being bland, you like boring

As long as it means your structure remains

I pity you, I pity your cynicism

But I don’t pity your pain

Cause you brought it on yourself

And you bring it upon us

As if it will make you feel better

Falling Apart

Stuck to my ways, my miserable

Self-depreciating, grossly intoxicating


That I could muster up the strength

And be normal, be human, functional

Was always a mirage in everyone’s mind

I’m unhinged, AS-IS door from IKEA

Ruined by trauma, obsessed with reliving it

Is the only way I’ll ever feel alive

Nobody understands why I’d rather die

Than live in moments punctuated with sad

I’m not the bad guy, I’m the good guy

With the gun pressed to his own temple

I’m not the solitary, I’m the sane

With his hands on the trigger, waiting

For some unsuspecting demon

That just wants blood before the foreplay

Nobody wants to see me past their payroll

Or listen to me past the stopwatch

Of their self-indulgent sensitivity

Who wants to love the unlovable

Dismembered remains of an optimist

Now hardly pessimist

When the asteroid does hit us

I’ll field it like Devin Hester

No need to drag out

My desire anymore