Tuesday Poetry: Where’s the Tylenol?

The sink is filled with dishes
You haven’t used
There’s very little food in the fridge
And it’s too hot to cook
The sink and the tub are covered
With things you don’t use
The bedroom is littered with clothes
And junk that you don’t own
The only time you have alone
Is when you’re on the toilet
You have to leave the house
To get away from the noise
Crashing at a friend’s house
Means sleeping on a couch
Like you have for two months
No time to relax, no time for fun
But it won’t last forever

From the poetry collection Cats, Coffee, Catharsis.

Poetry Monday: Social Animals

I think I understand why people go to bars
I mean those people who go every day for hours
I never saw the appeal or desire to be
Drunk sitting with other drunks with no ambition
Maybe that was my reasoning. It didn’t feel productive
But to them I think it feels like socializing
I sit in coffee shops, usually reading or writing
But it also feels like I’m socializing
I can talk to someone if I want to or not
I’m still around people. I feel like a part of the world
Sometimes that’s enough to not feel lonely
And people go to bars, so they feel like a part of the world

From the poetry collection Cats, Coffee, Catharsis.

Flashback Friday Poetry: Friends v. Happiness

he has so many friends to call his own
a charming smile can bring cheer to all
but the Sun sets upon his empty Home

many ask for advice he has to loan
through his many gestures he stands so tall
he has so many friends to call his own

his broken heart that can never be sewn
he won’t allow it to whither and fall
but the Sun sets upon his empty Home

none would suspect him of feeling alone
when he’s around ev’ry one has a ball
he has so many friends to call his own

he’s not reclusive he makes himself known
he forces himself out not in a crawl
but the Sun sets upon his empty Home

he can’t sleep in the night he only moans
heard only by Ears hidden in the Walls
he has so many friends to call his own
but the Sun sets upon his empty Home

Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.