In this world

Did you tell me I would be broken

when you made me special

Did you call me hopeless

when I begged for forgiveness

Because now I am crawling

waiting for tomorrow

With a today so very desperate

that yesterday is hiding

There is no more point here

I shout into the echo

But I can feel nothing

other than this burden

Special for your weakness

Special for my survival

Special is what kills me

I cannot defy it

But I am sane and you are not

and here we are and there I was

when I cannot breathe out loud

lest you hear me moving

Far out of your orbit

spinning in slow motion

Trying to shout louder

than a kitten’s mewling

Will the planets find me

all my silent crying

Now I can feel nothing

only my plates shifting

Into old arrangements

nothing ever changes

If you could have loved me

let me be ordinary

The world would have opened

the stars would have held me

But now I am so special

the goddess of your nothing

What you poured inside me

it was not for growing

It was all for killing

what was only dying

to be loved at all...

Suffocation

In this tidal wave of 

failure 

we sink further into 

our own unknown

drowning with the 

final question:

what else could we do?

Unexpected

I buried the doll behind a tree.  Just as I was arranging some sticks and dead branches to camouflage the grave, a small, champagne-colored mass of fur appeared from behind a bush.  

Either it had no legs, or its legs were camouflaged by its fluff, because it barely cleared the ground as it walked over to me.  It was impossible to feel afraid of the creature, though: something about it was strangely appealing, even if its head seemed too large for its body, and its face was so flat that it almost curved inward.  

The creature considered me with dark, globular eyes.   I just stood there, uncertain, until it barked in a friendly sort of way.  Only then did I realize it was a dog.  “Hello,” I said. 

The dog bared crooked teeth at me in a comical attempt at a smile.

“What are you doing here?” I asked it.

The dog snorted.

When I then sniffled, drying the last of my tears with my sweater sleeve, the dog shuffled over and gently head-butted my ankle.  I leaned over to pet it, which the dog seemed to like very much.  Suddenly grateful, I kissed its head.  It smelled like vanilla cake.

Inevitability

We are the paint peel chipping.

Dangling over the prickly

bushes.

Waiting with an eye

toward falling.

I wonder who I will be

when I am cut and

bleeding—

I wonder who I will be

when I have

given up.

It is like the blanking of

a color screen.

The bleaching of forest

green carpeting.

Hold my hand for just

a little while--

we are moving

and fading

on and on.

Growth

On Saturday morning she slipped into unconsciousness.  Once the doctor had confirmed what they already knew his father retreated to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.  Jack also drifted out, not giving a reason why.  

Jonah reached over and took his mother's hand.  As she left them all behind something about her seemed so peaceful—so beautiful—that Jonah did not let go of her hand again until the nurse came in.

Loss

This sea          filled with raging suspicions

polluted by the debris         of 1000 amazing inventions

not one in which I could believe

Control

Her glassy eyes drove me mad.  In a fit of rage, I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could find.  She said something in that dull, mechanical voice of hers but no longer listening, I slapped her down onto the counter.  I then raised the knife high in the air like a human guillotine and smashed it across her neck. 

Her round plastic head jerked back.  As it teetered on the edge of the counter she cast me one last glassy-eyed look.  Finally her head fell to the ground and rolled across the linoleum floor, unimpeded, until it came to rest underneath the industrial sink.

I set the knife aside.  When I pushed my fist into her dolly stomach, nothing happened.  I had done it.  She was silent at last.