D.N.S. Poem: "Change Your Heart"

You loved me first.

You're the worst.

You called me best—

Fuck the rest.

I'll take

My spastic life

Over

Your plastic life.

But they're better

Together.

Like p.b. & chocolate

Or pussy & dick.

Our lives—our why's—

Are so deeply intertwined

That I "haunt your dreams."

Touché: you haunt my mind.

Without you, my art is dirty

Ragged and malformed.

Like a freshly aborted fetus

In a sodden cardboard box.

Every time I see a fox.

Or hear someone say "babies"

Every time I watch fireworks.

Every time I read my own damn book.

Every time I have to sell it.

Every time I talk about it

I hear you, talking about me.

Every time.

There is no separation.

I've tried & almost died.

The only person who can help

Won't respond to my cries.

The only person who can relieve

The burden of waiting for you

To love me again

Is you.

Tell me you hate me!

Tell me to leave you alone.

To never speak to you again.

'Cause you haven't. Not once.

Why?

Am I a back-up for when you alienate your next best?

Or are you too afraid

To banish a bitch

From your heart to Hell?

Am I the only one you've let inside?

Are you afraid

I'm the only one

You ever will?

Do you hate that

Someone who loves you,

Whom you can't stand,

Knows your heart like the back of her hand?

I may not know

Who you are now,

But there's some shit

I won't let you disavow.

You can't change your heart

Any more than me,

Or you wouldn't have taken my book

And you wouldn't have told me your dreams.

Love Fucking Always,

@HaleyBCU

P.S. I wrote this book because of her. I wouldn't have finished it without her. It means something.

D.N.S. Poem: "Earned It"

Can't forget
Your bullshit
Won't forfeit
I earned it.

My memories
They haunt me,
Your words
Become taunting

On repeat
No damn sleep
My prayer's weak
No soul keep.

My heartbreak
Is legit
I'll take shit
I earned it.

I'll protest
And regress
Dismissed
By an ice bitch.

I fucked up.
I've learned it.
This bitch
Fucking earned it.
4:22AM, Friday, January 14th, 2022

Love. Always.
@HaleyBCU

D.N.S. Poem: "You"

#DearNotShakespeare

I want to believe

What they say is true:

You never loved me

Just what I did for you.

Tell me fuck off

I meant nothing. It's true.

I'll only buy in

When I hear it from you.

Costs nothing to admit

Almost lost everything

Before I quit:

For me. Too late for you.

© @haleybcu (image & #poem)

-5:38 AM on Thursday, July 29th, 2021

D.N.S. Poem: "Tonight"

Tonight

is one of those nights

I can't fathom

how you hate me.

It's not that

I don't see how.

I go through

periods of hating me

often enough to know;

it's possible.

But.

Allowing myself

to believe you hate me?

I won't. Maybe I can't?

I trust my brain:

we need each other.

-@haleybcu

2:55 AM, July 13th, 2021

© Tragic Sandwich Productions

D.N.S. Poem: "Be Mused"

My addiction,

Your predeliction

Created fiction

And endless friction.

No other muse

Could I choose

To see me through

Perpetual blues.

But I wouldn't do.

And you?

You couldn't make due.

Wouldn't. This shit's on you.

Allow these words

To properly serve

From me to you

This temporary adieu;

My visibility

No longer gives a fuck

About your fragility.

© @haleybcu, 5 AM on June 9th, 2021

Misplaced Monologues: "Abandoned"

Abandoned.

Is it worse for a parent to leave, or to die?  Either way, it's a form of abandonment.  I don't mean freak accidents, plane crashes, murders.  If someone chooses, from the moment they breed offspring, to do something clearly detremental to put them in the express lane toward the end of their life.

My father was a smoker.  Probably also a midnight toker, from what I've heard, but it wasn't that type of smoking that took him down.  You can read goverment and independent studies that show things of an alternative nature show little to no harm.  Not the same goes for the effects of tobacco, and it really pisses me off.  Like, so much.  Like, why is that girl leaving the party 'cause of the cigarette smokers?

It's fucking awful.  I re-live his death constantly when anyone that I even begin to care about picks up a cancer stick.  It hurts and does not compute.

For some background, I'm a pot smoking athiest.  Love animals but I eat some of them, never litter but I drive a car, always positive but I have some hang-ups.  I can't see past the cigarettes, or cigars.  Or dip.  The tobacco.

It feels like a very real choice for my father to have abandoned me, had a decision to make the minute I arrived and chose himself first.  Any parent who smokes tobacco is committing a near-felony, IMHO.  Shit is no longer about you when your skeet creates another human.  Fact.

And it makes me feel alone.  All I could know, the stories I miss, the support I do not have.  It makes me enraged.  I was second choice to a person who chose to give me life.  Second choice to a drug that gives little to no return, drains your pockets and isolates you.  It burns me that my life and childhood was fractured because he couldn't make the choice to man up.

From cigarettes, to the patch, to cigars: he never dropped the habit.  People accept it, let it go.  No one looks at you and says, "This will kill you, without a doubt."  Maybe not true for a lucky few, but for the majority, their fate is fairly set if they cannot set it down.

So my life is missing something I can never regain, and it's sad, but mostly I'm pissed.  Pissed at his choices and his lack of regard, for himself, his wife and for me.

Abandoned.  That's precisely what it is.