die a King in your fantasy.

I don’t want to be a burden

I just wanna sit here and read.

So if that’s ok

then the band can play

I’ll look up a couple times to see.

Everyone who’s silently cursing

checking out the latest feed.

There’s someone I knew

from another life

I look away so they don’t notice me.

It’s a living, a hard living

the barista says while pouring cream

a couple swirls and a twist

now there’s a swan swimming in my drink.

Guess I never really felt like drowning

I just swam in this misery.

I guess I can’t complain

I made my bed

skipped my prayers

now I’m counting sheep.

Guess I never really felt like dying

just romanticized how life could be

it’s like a game of chess

you protect the Queen

and die a King in your fantasy.

Cause it’s a living, a hard living

it could be worse is a common phrase

a couple riffs then applause

now the band packs their noise and leaves.

If I have to take a vow of silence

plead the fifth in double time.

With all due respect

I think I must confess

I cracked up like a nursery rhyme.

Still I can’t sing that song without crying

so whatever shall be shall be.

I guess the world’s the same

rinse repeat complain

the punch line never hit with me.

So if you’re living, a hard living

here’s raising this glass to you

and if you’re worried, don’t worry

there’s bound to be an answer soon.

Cause baby I don’t wanna be a burden

I just want to write my poetry.

Because I’m not a rock

or an island but

ain’t that the only way to be free.

a boy can’t cry wolf

I knew I didn’t dream it,

as nausea fills the morning.

Sleeping well as a ranch hand,

counting sheep all afternoon.

I guess a boy can’t cry wolf

anymore, even when he’s dying?

 

 

 

Child’s play.

She let the boys touch her after school.

Built well with a push-up bra to boot.

She wore her t-shirt a size too small.

And cheap checkered flannel pants.

The kind grandma might gift from Walmart.

And peaking out her behind was a white thong.

After school she’d let the boys touch.

Under covers, in her room, before her mother got off work.

If they got too close to her privates, she’d gently shy away.

Maneuvering her legs just enough to disengage the boys hand.

Leaving them embarrassed because she did have rules.

She wasn’t a whore.

After school the boys would touch her.

And being 2 years younger she gave them a false sense of adulthood.

A dominance that is eventually debunked with age.

It wasn’t until they got older that things began to change.

People’s opinions started to effect those early adolescent days of childhood teasing.

And over time the boys graduated and went off to college.

But the boys her age didn’t want to touch her after school.

She was branded a slut by the girls in her grade.

And promiscuous by the adults in the neighborhood.

It didn’t bother her that much though.

Only sometimes, at night, when she couldn’t fall asleep.

So she’d close her eyes and count like sheep.

The boys she let touch her after school.