Empty Chairs and Empty Tables

Empty chairs and empty tables
In my heart of hearts
Where no man or woman sits
I dine in solitude

Empty chairs and empty tables
Everyone standing around
I beckon them to sit
But they don't seem to hear my voice's sound

Empty chairs and empty tables
I pretend my heart's table is full
Of the bright chatter of the not-lonely
But in my heart of hearts, I know that's bull

Empty chairs and empty tables
I knock the spoons about
I throw weak punches at the silence
To the emptiness, I throw a clout

Empty chairs and empty tables
Do they see me now
I cry from the east gable
Of a very flashy house

Empty chairs and empty tables
They will not dine with me
I've made three pies and twenty cakes
But no one will join my soiree

Empty chairs and empty tables
Maybe my tears will flow to them
But I'm stuck inside a vacuum
With empty chairs and empty tables.

Empty chairs and empty tables
I pick up a pen to write
I plead with fancy words and letters
I throw the letter out

Empty chairs and empty tables
The paper barely grazes their cheeks
It barely scathes their minimal pimples
Soon it's on the ground, trampled down

Empty chairs and empty tables
Even the table wood seems hollow now
Will it all crumble before me
Leaving me alone in a dust cloud

Love Me

not for the modest dresses I wear
or for the Bible verses I have memorized
not for the way I look away when they show sex on tv
not for the way I don't drink or club

no, no
love me for trying
love me for sincerity of belief
love me for loving Song of Solomon
   because it is so dang horny I can't even
love me for loving beauty
for trying

love me for liking cuddles
don't love the chastity
no
love me for loving

I'm tired of you loving my innocence
I'm tired of you loving my feminity and chastity
Love me in the darkness
Because I don't pretend that the world is bright
but I still believe in the Light

surface, surface things
you love the smile you think hides an empty canvas
ready for you to paint with thoughts of God

no, silly child
no
I think for myself
I am a lady and I think for myself
The canvas is full of paint, oil and acrylic
colors dark and bright
tainted and painted
God sees me

so no, don't love me for serving communion
or for the smiles I give after church
   to the sweet ladies with powdery hair and
   powdered noses, me trying to be feminine
if that is really definable
love me for loving
for trying
for seeing
and for liking the horniest book of the Bible.

Mud

I stand in a flat mud land. All I have in my hand are strips of paper. I think about making those paper stars that my sister used to put into jars as presents when we were little. 

Instead, I sit right down in the mud. I do not care that it will dirty my clothing. "Splush." It is done. I run my hands through the cold mud and think about what it means to be a buffalo, running their skin through the cold mud every day.

Before long I am lying down in the mud. I smile. The sun is setting. Soon I will have the cool of mud and the wonder of stars to keep me company. I have run away.

I think about my warm bed, but I do not miss it. It reminds me of comfortless comfort, of smiling limbs but broken hearts. I splash the mud again.

I ran away from everyone and everything. I do not think they noticed, except for the lightness of their hearts. I am the happiest I have ever been because I can hurt no one and no one can hurt me. The barriers and walls that I used as a metaphor in my adolescence have materialized around me. The stars won't hurt me and I won't hurt them.