everything is for sale
for pennies on the dollar
everything that is
except for my deathbed
not sleeping much anymore
thus busy listing things
on various outlets
letting go of the past
two or three items at a time
there is no endgame in sight
simply an exercise
to bury the past
hoping to rise again
in some old familiar form
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s getting late and the demons
have agreed to return
after being away for so long
it’s late in the day
early evening if you may
summer season fading fast
sun falling and nearly powerless
winds picking up and slightly chilly
sending mind and body shivering
shaking yourself loose of cobwebs
you walk away from the grey
turning on lights
brewing black tea
grabbing a flannel from the closet
you can hear them in the other room
murmuring and scheming and giggling
fidgeting in their chairs
waiting for you to return
serving tray in tow
as you enter they quickly change
their demeanor
slipping into their game faces
knowing full why you called them
but excited nonetheless
to hear it in your own words
september two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the good doctor told me the pain
manifested from my mind
from repressed emotions
determined to breach the surface
of course I knew that was unlikely
since I had already committed
to hundreds of the tiniest of needles
designed to free my malevolent spirits
may two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
He started telling me things
little things
I had no business knowing
After a while the little things
mixed with the big things
and soon the important things
seemed to not matter so much
Every day for over two thousand
I did nothing but live alone with
my own thoughts
Of course I continued to enjoy
chocolate kisses and
group therapy and
kite flying
When he rescued me from
voluntary confinement
I screamed incoherently while
riding on the back of his fifty horses
hair blowing back horizontally
arms raised and flailing
Now after so many years since
time has turned around
and I find myself
drifting and regressing
but succeeding at exorcising
my very own demons
september two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there are certain things I’ll take to the grave
I said as I raised my half-filled glass
trying to figure out
if it was half full before
transferring the past down my throat
to the grave the patrons chanted
swallowing what remained of their
bottomless dreams
contented by the friendship of
lonely people
unbothered by next month’s bills
morning arrives without a demon in sight
the truth temporarily impaired
allowing me to get on with it
as they say
and forget all over again
those things going to the grave
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
once the children moved out
demons moved in disguised
as paper tigers roaming
from room to room
their emerald eyes shined
from the darkest corners
of the night reminding me
of a love I once had
I fed them sad stories
in exchange for my life
but their promises of light
I could not fathom
I asked them kindly to leave
my world but they curled
where the winter sun
shined through glass
in the spring I found strength
to unfold and reshape
keeping the demons at bay
as paper angels hanging
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I hadn’t been afraid for so long
that when the inevitable came
knocking at my door
I checked my pulse
and let the shadow in
an eerie thought cooled my palms
and sharpened my eyes
leading me to believe
I was on the verge
of losing my sanity
I issued a self-restraint citation
against my worse judgement
barricading myself
in the confessional
waiting for a priest
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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