Fresh Start




I contribute

to the filth

of the world.

A colorful trash

that lies at

the top of

a mountain

a sea

of years and

years of discarded


When will it

wash me



Its another day,

go ahead take

your pills.

Drink that second

cup of coffee.

Own your rhythm

like the

rising and

setting sun,

as you

make your way

through another



Blue Face

Hunched over the


blue pastel in

hand, consumed

by a feeling

that doesn’t feel

like my own.

Something foreign

that is within

me, chewing at me,

compelling me

to draw a

swirled face,

and my pastel

touches the

paper spinning.

And this blue face

sits up against

the wall

for days,

staring at me,

telling me

“I am part of you.”

And I have to

cover it up,

turn it into

something new.

And when I do,

nothings changed.

I don’t like it,

I hate it.

I tell myself

it was better


And as I walk away

from the ripped

pieces of paper

laying in the

recycling bin,

I can hear that

swirling blue face,

underneath the layers,

call to me

“You’re not

good enough”