Tense

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What tense are in you in?
Do you have? Have you had?
Was it ever so good? Is it ever so bad?

What tense are you in
Where you are? Where you were?
Was it nice? Is it right? Was it him? Is it her?

What tense are you in?
Can you think–Have you thought
That the feelings you feel are still felt from the heart?

What tense are you in?
I have, had, and will keep
A love for you there that is present and deep

Running With Knives In Your Mouth

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Perhaps it isn’t safe
To run your mouth
With such sharp words inside
It seems to me that someone might get hurt

Perhaps this is the way
You seek to keep
Your ego satisfied
But am not inclined to dish the dirt

Paper Cuts

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Paper cuts
Like razor blades
On tired wrists
A slow release
In rhythmic drips
A clock that ticks

Stretching words
Like knotted rope
From silent lips
Fraying and coarse
The knot–it slips
To snap my neck

Swallowed thoughts
Like colored pills
From bottled hopes
An overdose
A last recourse
My sentence passed

If Only I Were

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If only I were bulletproof
The words they shoot could not offend
If only I were bulletproof
I would not be afraid

If only I were bulletproof
Opinions would not break my skin
If only I were bulletproof
I would not feel a thing

If only I were diamond cut
I could not shatter easily
If only I were bulletproof
I could endure the pain

If only I were hardened steel
These arrows could not puncture me
If only I were bulletproof
My shoulders would not strain

Alas, I am not bulletproof
But wounded here upon my back
If only I were bulletproof
But no, I am too weak

I never could be bulletproof
And so I fell to these attacks
But though I am not bulletproof
I still refuse retreat

Words Without Noise

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Visit me, spirit of poetry
Lend me your pen for a night, if you will
Bring me your charms
Let my words be the arms
That incircle her–words she can feel

Visit me, spirit of poetry
Spare no expense to impart me your grace
Teach me some lines
That may quiet her mind
And inspire a smile on her face

Visit me, spirit of poetry
I have no physical form she can see
Give me a life
In the letters I write
So that she might be present with me

Visit me, spirit of poetry
Here is my soul–melt it down into ink
Show me the way
I can speak and convey
Every praiseworthy thing I can think

Visit me, spirit of poetry
Take my devotion and channel it there
Transfer your spark
To the beat of my heart
Till my words can remind her I care

Visit me, spirit of poetry
If you have any compassion, indeed
Trade this: my voice
For the words without noise
So that I may provide what she needs

Weapons Against Me

So scared my words
Will turn
To be weapons against me

So much to say
I learned
A better defense is

Just not to speak
And keep
A lock on the entrance

Protect my thoughts
And leave
No glass looking in