Oversized Cats

You wouldn’t choose
to live the life you’ve
created for yourself,
but you’re a tiger,
you can’t change
your stripes.

Every pattern is
intricately different,
and yet, none of them
ever feel the need to
point it out.

We are just oversized
cats that think too much
about ourselves.

– B.


I sit still in stark silence and begin to
wonder if it is the night or the morning
that I’ve grown more weary to,
I suppose it doesn’t matter.

Dusk and dawn still linger amongst
the silence of a mortuary,
an isolated tomb of could’ve, would’ve,
the steady clicks of ventilation and distant
echoes from the past have become the
only solace that lasts.

At first they frightened me.
My head would whip around to face the
emptiness, my fingers would snake around
the base of a drink – caffeine, not ethanol.
I am not used to my own thoughts.

They say to find comfort in a friend but
I don’t believe either word exists,
least not in this version of the world.
I’ve still scars from past mistakes and trust
only ever leads to the dull end of a blade.
I’ve seen their intentions, you see,
I see them before they see me.

It keeps whistling from around the bend,
those vents click a hymn to the wiser,
I cannot blend because I cannot pretend,
but by god I cannot be my only friend.

– B.

Witch Trials

She is the towns dear Abigail,
crying crocodile tears of the
broken, but still very much a
child who never saw beyond
her own wants and desires.

The village always saves
the wolves playing sheep,
they tend to her weeping
and pick her dull form up
in careful arms, as if she’s
a fresh baby from the womb,
and not a full grown tantrum.

I am the towns Bridget Bishop,
a woman that stood tall as she
was wrongfully condemned
to death, dressed in a fine
layer of self-assertion and
dabbling in feminine rebellion
from an early age up until the
noose was hung.

Prior to 1692 the town believed
Bridget Bishop to be a witch at
the vulgarity of Abigail Williams,
many more were to fall victim
to the crusade, and though it is
now present day, and we say we
have learned a valuable lesson,
I still see not much has changed,
as our history repeats itself.

– B.


Chew on your opinions before
you choose to swallow them.
Allow a few, but not all, to be
placed upon your plate.

When grudges are tapped on
draft from the veins and
feelings are hidden like a
cancer spreading in the cells,
leave your knife placed
on your left napkin instead.

Choose not to be a commonality
amongst the table of mass,
sip on the fruit of your labor
in lieu of the poison of your past.



Games can only last so
long before either side
of the board is ready
to call it quits.

Which is why I don’t
like playing them.

We are approaching
midnight and I’m
looking at the empty
seat across from me.

Holding a deck of cards
I have not held in years
and regretting having
ever agreed to this
in the first place.

I don’t want to retract my
progress from affection,
but the continuous loss
is enough to walk away.

Perhaps you will never know,
Perhaps you do not care,
what it is like to have an
ally like me on your side.

That does not detract
from my deck.

– B.