All The Unrequited Collection, part three

OF COURSE IT WOULD HELP IF I JUST TRIED
AND IF I’D NEVER KNOWN YOU WERE ALIVE
by Andie Bottrell

There’s never time
to sleep.

There’s always
a poem to write,

a nose to pick,
a scalp to scratch,

a private part to
penetrate,

a love to confess,
a piece of art

to make,
a movie to watch,

another story
to read.

And I can’t catch this
illusive beast

that sleeps just
an illusive 5 sleeps

in front of me-
escapes my reach

by just barely
and I beseech you

to grab her, catch her
and turn her in,

for all of her
illustrious sins,

so I can
gain,

at least
one inch,

of my sanity
back again.

Damn,
it’s Morning.

YOU'RE HERE
by Andie Bottrell

I got maybe
a ten second glance
of a piece of you
through the crowd
with a blaring, though
possibly unintentional,
or possibly not,
glare from your girl.

I bought new shoes,
torture devises,
strapped them to my feet.

I painted my nails,
bought new make-up,
bought a jacket and
a bra.

I woke up early and was
sick, so I took medicine
and then I worked all day.

I’ve got bills to pay.

Afterwards, I walked
(nay, a graceful limp,
the new shoes soles
were scrapping skin)
to the event
where I saw you for
maybe ten seconds,
here and there,
and then you were gone.

But now I know you’re
out there…
out my window
in this town.

And that’s all
I need
to eat
to sleep
to write again
to know you’re
here

somehow.

WWW DOT EMPTY LOVE DOT COM
by Andie Bottrell

I hate myself for
falling in love with you,
and not getting over you,
and you loving her,
and me getting drunk,
and deleting my digital
connections to you
because you wont care,

no one will care,
so, really,
I hate myself
and my unlovability.

I think everyone is
a little bit of a sociopath.
We all only want to win,
to be the best,
and none of us really care
about each other,
only mimic one another.

I hate you,
and your girlfriend,
and you words,
and your plans,
and you’re no good,
and I love you,
and your handsome,
and you appear in,
every dream I’ve
ever had.

I can’t feel my lips,
or my mouth,
or my limbs,
like last time
I was drunk…

but you were here last time

and you were here last time

and you were here last time

where I’m sitting- no laying,
now.

And you were here last time,
sitting here last time,
when I was drunk,
and you were drunk.

You were gorgeous and I
looked at you…

I wish I were looking at you now,
as I sit here alone,
listening to my roommates
make love.

I want you to make love to me,
and leave your crazy girlfriend,
and tell me you’ve always loved me,
like you do in my dreams.

But this is not a dream,
this is real life,
and the real world,
and here I’m nothing,
a nobody,
a desperado,
a dumbie,
and no one loves me,
and I just want to fucking die.

WHEN SOMETHINGS GOT A HOLD ON YOUR SOUL
by Andie Bottrell

The colder days
when joints ache
and life feels stale
are upon me.

The sullen days,
when anger wakes
and food gets
complicated.

The water freezes,
the night seizes,
and I find myself
lacking hydration
and sleep.

Deep, deep falling,
like to the ocean,
concrete tied to my feet.
Inwardly my soul's
retreating like a
bear into its cave.

I find myself
stealing away,
creating hours in a day,
hoping to shatter at the bottom
just to release these
poisonous tears.

To fly free,

free into the sky
like a victim to the spider's web does fly,
so will I,
carelessly flop about,
only to be captured
all to soon,
the second time around.