Weak

 When I ask you for something, 

to do something, 

to not do something, 

and you ignore me, 

I feel 

physically weak 

and mentally drained.

I recall 

when people 

used to listen to me, 

when my words 

held value, 

and how much 

brighter my soul felt.

Now, 

all I feel 

is silence, 

for being silenced, 

for words 

without weight 

amongst the deaf 

and unwilling 

are futile at best 

and preposterous at worst.

These words 

are like 

plugging a rowboat 

with a drill.

These words 

are ten elephants 

balancing on 

a single beach ball.

Silence

Like there is no point in speaking

So I retreat

Because I have 

no energy to fight 

for I have been weakened.  

I've lost my spirit.  

I've forgotten my spark. 

I've dulled my light 

with this chemical dependency.

This year will be tough, but from it, I will grow.

St. Vincent

 You, 

I'm a silent fan of you,

A stalker in the night,

Filled with auditory delight.

I wish I may,

and I just might,

send a message of

admiration and 

pleasant surprise.

I really dig your musical tastes

It provides the mind with fruitful escape

to another land of

hope, light and dreams

But, of course,

In this world, 

Nothing is as it seems.

I used to share mixtapes, 

and burned cds, 

and copies of things, 

mostly music 

bustin the mental seams

Because life is short,

And filled with pockets,

Of memories 

And reveries

And shared loves with sockets 

(An allusion to being open,

A stretch,

But I digress)

Long story short,

My brain digs yours,

The wealth of knowledge

And access to

Our shared love

Of tape decks.

Hang in There

 Happy Holidays,

To you and yours!

It's funny how we

Just stay indoors,

To escape the fun

Of bug and cough.

It makes me wanna

Take the year off.

I didn't want to

Send you a check,

But I had the funds, 

So here's the rest. 

As a man of mail,

I gotta say,

You're doing a hell

Of a great job,

So, please hang in there; 

The world needs more

Of that pure spirit. 

Thanks!

WS2

 I was very happy, 

almost ecstatic, 

on cloud nine 

without a care 

in the everlasting world, 

and then,

tragically, 

I  saw you.

Scraps

 No, I don't want your scraps.  Although I'm grateful for a lobster roll, I want it to be fresh.   You're sick, so, no, I  don't want your scraps.

I feel like you don't care enough to see me happy.  On one hand, you tried, and I'm grateful. On the other hand, I don't want to settle for scraps.

The Struggles of Happiness

 Is it gardening 

Homebrew

Coitus en masse

Reading

Dinner parties

Flirting

Dancing

Playing music

Cleaning

Writing 

Creating

Firing all of the pistons?

I don't know 

Why it is

I struggle

To ascertain 

What makes my heart smile 

Like 

Significant difficulty

Shopping at Walgreens

For something that makes me happy 

The worms

Give me acid reflux,

And the cranberries

Give me diarrhea.

My body's changing 

I'm old-ish, and

I don't feel the same desires as before.

I struggle to find friends.

I'm lulled by the sirens of streaming.

I don't know what makes me happy anymore. 

Espresso

 I bring smiles to people.  Some frowns.  Mostly grins though.  Today, I dropped off a package to a lady who was parked in her driveway.  She was wearing military fatigues. Green ones.  Her name tag indicated "Air Force."

I dismounted my mail truck, and brought it to her, stating my usual, "Special delivery for the world-famous so-and-so!"

I saw the happiness from her eyes before I caught her wide smile.  Her eyes were open, like mad saucers.

She said, "Oh, I've been waiting for this!"

I told her I was happy to deliver.

She said, "It's my espressoooooiioo!  WHEEEEEEEE!"

I shit you not.

My first thought was, maybe I shouldn't deliver this one.  Somebody had to cut her off.

But, I did, and moved on to capture this joyful moment.