Please don't send me

Flowers.

Send me memories

That feel like

the look of steel trash cans

Beneath florescent lights,

with that little streak

Of shine.

Always moving

towards you Like

The eyes of some

Fuckin haunted painting.

Or the notion

Of strippers

Beneath spotlights aimed

By untrained hands,

Just catching

Shadows

Of what you don't know

You missed.

Because the focus

Is shit.

Delayed Like appreciation

Often is.

And I always seem to miss

The things I almost saw.

Maybe that's life.

You only ever

Comprehend the ass

Jiggling

Towards the curtain

As dreams unrealized

Walk away,

Finished and empty

To the sound of applause.

Like the best tits

You never saw

And wish you remembered

But don't ,

But still brag about

Because no one

will ever know

The difference.

Like these

Stainless memories

Framed by charcoal regrets.

So please

Don't send me flowers.

Send me a trash can

To hold the remains.

The half wilted moments

Between inspiration

And oblivion.

I think they call it life

Or some shit.

Please don’t send me flowers

I won’t know what they mean

I’ll think you really care

And hope for things unseen

Flowers bring birds

But I can’t hear them sing

No birds, no bees, please

I can’t take the sting

Bring them.

Bring them,

...one by one

Every day.

Every day,

...stem by stem

In your teeth.

In your teeth,

...step by step

To my feet.

To my feet...

Oh, confounded, just come empty handed!

We'll pick dandelions from the cracks

of the walkway out back,

And toss straight water from the tap,

If you'll only wrap yourself around

these wilted shoulders now,

And let us bask...

01.30.23

Please Don't Send Me Flowers Challenge @Finder

movement of death

typecasted experience

rejection,

I hate you.

I hate you with admiration

as everything

I could have never

been.

5th grade, I was a hopeless romantic wanting someone to love me for my weird self. I saw a kind boy, tan skin, dirty blonde hair turns brown by winter. His brown eyes glimmer around his friends. He played sports and I watched movies. He was popular and I was quiet. I wanted to tell but was too scared to give it right to him. A letter was passed to a teacher and then passed to him. Later I told him it was me, he giggled. But, he never did anything else. No talking til he asked me if I voted for him for student president. Boasting about a girl liking him but not take a chance on her. Such a great feeling, my own feelings can get confusing but all I felt was sad and annoyance of others. I never wanted to be in my room so bad. My hole is my home and it has been for as long as I can remember.

When I was a child petty jealousies felt like valor;

What an honorable thing it was to be cast from the ignorant flock

Into the wild wolfish woods of intriguing self doubt...

How noble it was to be deemed ignoble

By caviling eyes, so crossed...

But what in myself was any good without their bad opinion?

Alas...

Anything of real goodness in me longs earnestly for rejection of the unsuccessful;

Recognizes the necessity of it,

Even now, after knowing how wholly villainous Rejection is;

How easily it mangles sweet innocence,

Lacerates confidence

Rankles suspension of disbelief...

Oh mine youthful folly...

What an epitome of conscience bearing it is,

To be a dreamer, overlooking the

Beauteous chasm of longing;

That reveling peak of loneliness

Beckons me nigh to teeter at it's terrible summit

So often...

Aloft to that high place where it is so brazenly tempting

To think I can fly.

But rejection is the very ground on which I stand.

The cliff that I have clambered up in my haste to be closer to truth.

Are we all this way

When unwittingly pulled to a precipice of change?

To fie and thrash blindly against the foe of growth...

Only to cling forthwith to thine same enemy

As soon as one's childish old foot

Steps blindly

Terrifyingly

Emptily

Backwards upon the wretched declivity of mistaken conviction...

On the cusp of hopeful stupidity the foot touches nothing

But a fickle memory of a fantasy cloud;

A whimsical wisp densely loving enough to support feathered fallacies...

For 'tis then when the soul clutches to it's bodily senses

The same way a babe clutches; imbued with the urgency of survival,

And gives the name of mother to anything it grasps...

Grasp, grasp at thine enemy; Ruthless Rejection...

And label the jagged cliff friend.

For it is the only one here who can rescue the child from it's own false footing.

Red

This is the color I choose

To color your roses

And to run away

It's time, I saddle my horse

If I ride like the wind does

I’ll be long gone before tomorrow comes

I decide to make my peace

I send a letter, to say

This was never my intention

I took some poison

Now I'm seeing visions

So, into my insanity I descend

And then she says

"Please don't send me flowers"

"I will be with you in the hour"

Your blank stare pushes me down

Down to the emptiness of my soul

And as I spray my last rays of light to you

Your icy face reflects back,

passing through my holes

Pointing to the true longings I should have sought

Instead of you...

And I burn,

What is behind me I cannot see

What is ahead of me is only agony

I miss my shell

I want to go back to my cave

and Find myself again

Last night my head exploded.

No one was hurt but me.

No wonder no one will sleep with me.

I'm dangerous.

Who keeps exploding my head?

They must know

How volatile are its contents.

Not much will set it off.

My head has always exploded at night,

Waking me up with a start--

Heart racing, sweating profusely, and

Surviving the blast.

Now it's exploding in the daytime

For no reason at all

Head mines tripped by accidental thoughts

With a perimeter of collateral damage.

I don’t need beautiful things in these hours,

I have no more sand in my hourglass.

Today do not send flowers.

Blooms cannot reach my towers,

My sister will love them to her let these comforts pass,

I don’t need sympathies in these hours.

To my family such a thing empowers,

But not I, alas,

To me do not send flowers.

Clouds shed tearful showers,

For today one last time my loved ones amass,

I don’t need decorations in these hours.

Final brief encounters,

In a bed sealed by bronze and grass,

At this time do not send flowers.

Like all things that time devours

For now, I reside in a peaceful morass,

From you I need nothing else after these hours,

So please to me today, do not send flowers.