The Color of The Moon I have worn myself out over the last two moons. Now I am feeling sad teary eyed depressed weary. Every color has become null, a set of emptied arms waiting like the moon in mid-rise and three quarters empty, lonely and teary eyed. As she too waits with outstretched wearied …
Ghosty Me In the ghost that was me there were more than a me. There were parts that are missing and parts that were found. Down silent hallways in silent rooms surrounded by stormy voices. Locked in closets, inside locked trunks tied down to floor ties and splintered wood, in splintered minds and splintered souls, …
Slosh, the long version There are days when I feel I am a mere slosh of unbalanced chemicals stumbling across a high wire. Today is such a day. This week, full of weaken bottomless days where I experience the rise of rage and the fall of shame Unable to accept the what I am, struggling …
Dried Skin Becoming dust is how some die. The collecting of white dust on the dashboard, sofa and nightstand flakes, dried skin, from the old man as he slowly peels away. © SB Joy, 2022 This is from the: Old Man series. Many years ago I looked after an aging alcoholic step parent. I had …
Angsty Foreign Film Damn my emotions are loud swinging a wide wake, like a barge down the Cumberland carrying every one else’s shit the way I carry on like an angsty foreign film. © SB Joy, 2022 Growing up in my late teens and twenties, I use to love to watch foreign films: Moon in …
American Chestnut The American chestnut is long gone, that doesn’t stop me from hoping in its thunderous limbs. I’m compassion; I’m not compassion. It’s all clinging to thinkings, like: how I think someone how I think I should be. This is the me that pisses; this is the me that reads Buddhist psychology; this is …
She Awoke in Twenty-one Parts She awoke naked. She awoke breathless. She awoke with Winston licking her face then barking. She awoke wet. She awoke sweating. She awoke simmering in her own hot bath. She awoke alone. She awoke hung over. She awoke with a stranger’s tongue, dry and fuzzy. She awoke fighting. She awoke …
Becoming Two The growing distance between us Is measured in inseams and arms length Until Friday, when we awoke You in Alaska, me in misery. © SB Joy, 2022 Separation, divorce, loss… grief. Oh Pandora my love why did you open the jar? SB Joy
© SB Joy, 2022 she could never be trusted after several too many drinks and Diazepam SB Joy
Skinned A family can survive major pruning. The loss of parent, grandparent, child. However, a family tree can’t survive without its bark. The stripping away of my childhood’s outer layer. The intentional toughing up routines backfired, thinning the skin until raw and every word or touch burned like a bare light socket sunk into my …
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