Day to Day Poetry, poetry

#8 Dust

Every time we fight I get just a little bit smaller,
every word you say becomes a question mark
carved inside of me – an incision of doubt made permanently.
My voice, once explosive and strong, has been reduced to
a desperate whisper in a world full of noise;
and when zoomed in to our private universe, I am just static –
a snow of blurry, white dots against a background of black
that you don’t pay attention to.

I am frantic and pervasive, against your calm and apathy,
fantastical and furious, against your logic and invariability.
I don’t know how to love you. This battle has hardened me.
The ground we used to stand on is shaking;
the earth beneath us has become the jagged, yellow teeth of
a monster designed to swallow me whole,
while you sit on the precipice of what has become broken,
rigid and unchanged, stable and unhindered,
as if the chaos of the apocalypse isn’t enough
to make a dent in that armour of yours.

There’s a part of you I can’t reach,
no matter how far I stretch myself.
A gulf I keep trying to cross, on my hands and knees,
bruised to the point of collapse –
I scream for you one last time:

Day to Day Poetry, poetry

#6 Exegesis

There’s nothing happening
and no one knows what it is

It’s the divine and the apocalypse
calling out to me

Murder and rapes and suicides – oh my,
trigger me happy, my dear
those words mean nothing
to me.

Despicable, your middle name,
tangled in the viscous consistency
of your

I’m the joke you like to spread in your bed
on mornings when loneliness becomes
the lump in your throat

Not really sure
what sort of facade
I’m supposed to be
seeing through.

I trust your lies
because you have nothing else
to give.

There’s a gulf of dead stories
I have to cross
to get to you –



Day to Day Poetry #45

I wonder what it’s like to be hopelessly,
desperately afraid,
to be told by all the adults around me at fourteen,
that I’m afraid –
incredibly, lugubriously afraid,
so fearful, my child, it had to be medicated –
as if these million dollar pills can quench this fear
and turn it into that mundane void, the in-between
of dysphoria and euphoria.

I wonder what it’s like to have fear
govern all my decisions,
for anxiety to immobilize my every ambition,
assassinate my every adventure,
to want endlessly to be loved and cared for
to dream the terror away,
to wake up in the middle of a silent night
to bury my face in a three-month old pillow,
to imagine other people into saviours
that rises me into action, declares me free from
my nightmare paralysis,
to reach out and beckon, to lay out an open invitation
despite the nagging, monstrous dread of rejection –

to cross that barrier, anyway –

only to realize,
inside empty, barren rooms,
that I can never take you,
wherever you want to go,
because I’m afraid,
so incredibly, lugubriously afraid,
a fear so tantamount, so real,
that it’s become a part of daily living,
it’s become all of who I am.

Day to Day Poetry

Day to Day Poetry #35

I had a dream
that I had an infinite amount
of these round little pills
that forced us to dance
the crazy dance
of laconic conversations
for six hours straight
going up and then down
and then flinging our souls
away from the helpless
hopelessness of sobriety
until a tremble in the corner

of our dilated eyes
and rendered us
into colours
that couldn’t exist

while a rabid, quivering whisper

told us we held

the secret to life

that whatever it is that people

questioned, studied, searched and journeyed for

the golden truth, the elliptical bud

has been found—

but before we could

ask why
it died

before we could hear





Day to Day Poetry, Day to Day Writing

Day to Day Poetry #34

It crawls into my skin
like little parasites
that dig under my veins
and settles into the crevices of my chest
and pounds and pounds —
until the only thing that can stop
my sporadic bursts of breath
is the pain that electrifies my nerves
whenever I clench my fists
to dig my nails into my palms,
tiny cuts of red
that grounds me back to reality.

Because loving you was a decision
I set heavily in stone
with as much relentless and vehemence
as a naive 10-year-old would –
taking every minuscule sign as proof of your love,
justifying your hesitations and radio silence
biting back my lip to prevent my heart from breaking
sitting alone on a thirty-minute cab ride
refusing to cry.

Because you are thunder, the tiniest of all tempests
The persuasion and conviction of my soul
Within forty-two hours you owned me
And rendered me speechless in prisms of crimson and catatonic ecstasy
As you swing me back and forth in an euphoria induced coma
Until the sunlight of the early morning doesn’t scare me anymore
For we have, gathered in our hands,
The laughter that will keep us calm even in the break of sobriety
The serotonin that will keep us sane and going
And the stories that will tide us over until the next bitter year.

Yesterday, my love, you held me on Danforth avenue,
Tonight, dear stranger, I stand alone.