a bipolar life
there’s a slight bump
i reach out to you
and the bed is empty
warm where you were
with a vague scent of
your perfume
i slumber on your side
i don’t want you to
return to cold sheets
i don’t sleep very
well when you’re
not in bed with me
sunrise is seconds
away and you have
not returned to join
me, where have you
gone?
this happens every
morning since…
glb /// “every morning since…”
originally published 02/09/2014
burned out pages
of my journal
from my fifth week
inside
found in the
fireplace in our
back yard,
speak of anger
speak of sorrow
speak of hatred
speak of loss
all pointed at
myself, give
no quarter for
things I did or
did not do
glb /// “burned out pages”
originally published 05/26/2014
when the copper stops buzzing in your brain
and the sweat pours down your neck
i will be there to hold you when the spasm begins
the application of pain is the measure
tolerance raises the bar for the next
it’s hard to tell where the victory lies
the strange attractors have done their damage
down deep, enveloped in gloom
cast by the only bulb in the cavernous hall
you prepare to put on your show,
daring to expose all in attendance
as patrons of the darkest art of all
you mime kindness
whisper intimacy
talk of hope
shriek out love
the cacophony deafens
voices drawn tight
refusing to admit
that the one thing they have in common…
(humanity)
is the hardest thing
to achieve
glb /// “survive”
originally published 03/01/2018
i thought you left,
but when i saw you
again it was like you
had never…
now i know
you were gone
before i ever
got there
being there was
your way of being
gone from some
other way of living
we were never
fully together,
the feelings
it felt like
we shared
were figments
and ghosts
the loss i felt
was nothing
compared
to the love we
never shared
why do i feel
i should
apologize?
glb /// “i thought”
originally published 03/03/2014
she waded into the desert river
up to her ankles because she didn’t want to cause a ripple
up to her knees because the river was exciting and running so quickly
up to her waist because the river was cooling compared to the desert
up to her chest because she didn’t care what anyone said
over her head, she slipped on a rock and was never seen again
glb /// “the river”
originally published 02/12/2014
what do we do when
change goes the wrong way
and we cannot go back
to the place that once was
the door is shut
to the wants we used to want
we can no longer touch
the haves we used to have
moving forward
on broken desires
causes pains we never had
in places we never knew
in the essence of this experience
something new overtakes
something old we still crave
quickly enough to question
the existence of the past
only when acceptance
gives way to indulgence
does the knowledge of the past
coalesce
glb /// “untitled #121”
originally published 12/04/2013
it metastasized to your lungs
more chemo, more radiation
it metastasized to your bones
more wasting, more weight shed
you looked sullen, you looked drawn
you looked resigned to your fate
treatments go on
seemingly without end
I imagined you were fighting
I imagined you were giving everything you had
it metastasized to your pancreas
nothings more to hang my hopes on
you gave up
I think I am starting to understand that
you metastasized to me
glb /// “metastasis”
originally published 04/28/2014
13 days to live or die
i chose the former,
the universe…
the latter
i do not know
the ferocity
of the fight,
only that it left
unbelievable
scars
it changed me
in ways i cannot
even begin to explain
for better
for worse
i am still here
for yes
for no
i answer your call
i answer your questions
i feel my longing
in the chasm of the night
until
the opaque gray morning
filters in
revealing your empty
side of the bed
i try not to react
to your endless absence,
dressing quickly
i slip into the
misty morning
i scribble your name
into the dew on my car
continually checking
over my shoulder
hoping you’ll catch me…
glb /// “13 days”
originally published 03/16/2019
ask me how i am
look at my face
stare into my eyes
put your lips on mine
feel desire pulsing
ask me how i am
slip under the covers
wrap your arms
around my chest
put your palm over my heart
notice how quickly it beats
at your touch
ask me how i am
trace your finger
over my scar
feel the soft new skin
find out how close
the bone is to the surface
ask me how i am
wipe the tear from my cheek
when i realize
you aren’t real
ask me how i am
glb /// “ask me how i am”
originally published 10/31/2013
