Weird Poetry

She wrapped her arms around her throbbing midsection.

She cooed at first…

Then she implored

Her womb,

Like it was an entity that could,

Or would,


Do her bidding,

“Just bleed already…

So no one else has to….”

Then she wept in resignation

As another day of hormonal rage, headaches and fullness

Unfurled before her…

Unlike the very tightly coiled crimson ribbon

Resting deeply, quietly, indifferently,

Inside of her.




*** Eeeeeeew. ***

*** I am aware that talk of blood (especially menstrual) makes people queasy. Also… you’re a wimp, Old Man. ***

*** I write about my period. It helps with cramps. Sorry not sorry. Don’t read my shit if that sorta thing gets your frilly panties in a twist. ***

Under the Stupid Bed

Weird Poetry

Some people wake up on the wrong side of the bed

Some mornings.

I have — too many times to count.

But today,

I woke up under my bed

Which has no frame;

The mattresses are one on top of the other,

Directly on the floor.

I never liked the bed frame concept; the floor is much more solid.


I woke up under that.

Feels like it at least.


My head is pounding,

My vision is blurry,

My womb is bleeding with weeping profusion

As my oceanic eyes well up with tears that fall straight down to my feet;

They aren’t about meandering or cascading today.

My eyelids are fighting to shutter out the world

As a pain swells and recedes within my chest like a little asshole wave that the moon will not release from its pull.

That pain…

I’m sure it originated in my heart,

And I can’t stop palpating the strained muscle beneath my skin.


I may have well awoken alone beneath my skin on a desolate planet in an alien solar system

Rather than under my frameless bed….

But in all honesty,

There is no damn difference.




*** You tired, Sweetums? That’s an impressive list of grievances… even for you. ***

*** [weeps] ***

*** I will be fine. I always am… in time. ***