Posts Tagged Worms

Recovery? No Chance

Harvesting emptiness through trees with no contrast,
a metal plate from a dumpster blocks the blood to my head,
and inside the skull, the tiny white worms, who only spread so far
in a year, are shaving what’s left of the inspired part, the part
that kept me alive until this moment when it gave in to pulls
of all the trees who know how to live, who know how to sit
in quiet, not brooding about their situation in life but laughing
at us who are filled with the white worms, who have no chance.

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Begging My Fragile Chemistries to Hold, to Stay Stuck on Good

There is an electric swarm of worms
flying on red carpets, built for speed,
as I see those words, “this is helpful,”
and I think that is all I really want is to
be helpful, to help others out of jams,
and some say thank you and I fill with joy,
but the worms, they keep flying. They
have more eyes than you would believe
and they stare at all of the weak junctures,
game-planning the next attack, knowing
that the chemicals cannot be consistent,
that there will be a time for gaps to appear,
and no matter how helpful I work to be,
the worms, they’ll eat the self-esteem, and
they’ll ask, “who are you kidding?” She tells
me not to wait for the other shoe to drop,
but the other shoe drops every fucking
day, and it beats me to little smithereens
of insignificant dust. I’ll try harder tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I might be good enough.

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