My Stones Poem by Timmy Tubbs

I’ve dug my hole
And witnessed a color of dirt not many see
I think the stones I stand on speak to me

He only has two choices now
Stay. And when she calls, answer the telephone
This way, when she is betrayed by her obsessions
You can be her excuse to not be alone

This has its consequences though

Take an old wooden bat spit on with rusty nails and your saliva
Start at his face you hate and work your way down
Take one swing for every question you haven’t asked yet
Now burn his walls he is so content to die behind
And show your face one last time
Now tell him your willing to give it another try
And watch him drag his wrecked body through your fires
To your place that only may be safe

Or leave. And when she calls, silence
That way, when she is battered and forgotten
She will be even more lost in her polluted excuses of abandonment
How’s it feel to want something you can’t have?
You would never know.

This has its consequences though

Take an angel feather and drag it along your side
Trace it over your lips and across your eyes
Now down your breasts and between your thighs
Try to still your shaking knees
Don’t be shy
Now open your eyes and look outside
You are alone. Only a white feather accompanies your feet
With only a single pair of footprints that your storm rinsed long ago

Save him the pain
But eliminate his chance
Without your fire
Without your pain
Without your bat
Instead, he watches your lungs gasp for oxygen
You are lost, and he is gone
Kicked off your bus, he’ll hitchhike and whistle your song
Until you find the rusted bat and kerosene and matches
To right his wrongs