A Ghazal About the Thorns

I’ve developed a nasty habit of touching rose thorns,
In my dreams, I am the cut up hand that only knows thorns.

I used to hold flowers, not knowing the world they grew from,
A world that bites, corrodes, that holds you down and bestows thorns.

I get nothing, I get nothing, I get nothing but pain.
All that I end up with in this world: discomfort, woes, thorns. 

I want nothing, I want nothing, I want nothing but pain.
All that I want in this world: peacefulness, ecstasy, thorns. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck it. Consume me. Swallow me whole. I can’t go.
I let go. I fall down into the garden that grows thorns.

“I’m pulled both ways,” I claim as I fall to one side again.
It’s me. It’s me who chose this torment. It’s me who chose thorns.

“J.B., don’t touch that,” but I won’t listen. I’ll go near it.
In my dreams, I am the foot that stomps on tomorrow’s thorns.

A Ghazal About the Color Green

I miss all the green, I haven’t seen the pigment in months,
No green in my room, I haven’t felt fulfillment in months.

Such a dark, rich green that will leave stains all over your skin,
I miss it, I haven’t felt so much enrichment in months.

This monochrome life is now worse than when color first left,
I haven’t had to bear something so malignant in months.

Maybe the color didn’t trust me, or didn’t like me,
Proving it right, I haven’t made a commitment in months.

Its prolonged absence has become too much for me to bear,
It’s all too much, I haven’t felt so indignant in months.

I have all but given up on life, on searching for more,
I don’t think I have heard a term of endearment in months.

Maybe the olive, jade, sage all wait for me far away,
Desperate, it’s the first time that I’ve pushed pavement in months.

“Oh J.B., how sad you still care, give it up, let it go.”
I don’t mind that I haven’t felt so much judgement in months.

A Ghazal About the Hole That I Now and Will Live In

Now, I’ve been in this hole for how long, I don’t remember,
Why I deserve this, what I did wrong, I don’t remember.

It’s been so long that I can’t imagine sunny weather,
Is there another place I belong, I don’t remember.

Cursed with repetition, the same dirt in each direction,
Was I too bold, was I too headstrong, I don’t remember.

There must have been a darkness searching for me in the light,
Is it pain or fear that I prolong, I don’t remember.

There are lyrics that play somewhere in the back of my mind,
Something she wrote, a poem or a song, I don’t remember.

It is now that I want to shove J.B down in the dirt,
Why drag my old, beaten self along, I don’t remember.