My body is a locked display

In a museum no one walks through.

Glass walls, warnings not to touch—

No map, no key, no clue.

My voice is a candle in a wind tunnel,
Flickering, fighting to stay lit.

Even when I bleed in metaphors,

They call it "just teenage ****."

I don’t wear scars like stories,

I hide them like shameful art—

Little tally marks of silence

Etched deep into my skin and heart.

I’m not broken—I’m unfinished.

A sketch left out in the rain.

Dripping lines and missing pieces,

A name forgotten, a frame of pain.

No mother here—just a woman

Who counts my failures with her eyes.
Sharp tongue, cold hands, fake smiles,
Every “what’s wrong with you?” a knife.

My dad?
He's a ghost with a phone.

Scrolls past birthdays like spam.

He only shows up in my nightmares,

And even there, he never gives a ****.

I eat dinner with silence.

Sleep under a roof but not a home.

The walls here echo insults,

And still I face it all alone.

I laugh in the right places,

Say “I’m just tired”like a chant.

But my wrists hum when the house goes quiet,

And I dream of “no more” when I can’t.

No one checks the corners

Where I fold myself at night.

They just praise me for being quiet,

For staying out of sight.

I don’t cry—I leak slowly,

Like a pipe left to rust and split.

This isn’t sadness, it’s erosion.

And I’m disappearing bit by bit.

from THHT3: Dark Shadows & Bright Lights
99 Poems
available worldwide 9/9/19

That That Is (Mike Posner Vibes)

That feeling in your gut, that tingle in your spine,
those goosebumps on skin, that voice that speaks from inside,
that energy in the crowd, that aura in the air,
that vibe, that sense that there’s so much more out there,
though maybe nothing really matters,
& maybe that’s why no one seems to care,
is that fact depressing or liberating,
does it fill you with hope or despair,
probably both.
Collective Existence is a Totalitarian Democracy,
there’s an all seeing Supreme Being but still you can vote,
the Coronary Donor is a Poetic Loner,
that honors the Moment by walking across the globe,
as he contemplates growing a beard like Mike Posner,
he writes composures as he goes forward down Life’s Road,
hoping for healing so he can have closure,
but can’t escape that feeling in his gut, that tingle in his spine,
those goosebumps on skin, that voice that speaks from inside,
that energy in the crowd, that aura in the air,
that vibe, that sense that there’s so much more out there…

∆ LaLux ∆

from THHT3: Dark Shadows & Bright Lights
99 Poems
available worldwide: 9/9/19

#mikeposner #poppoetry #poppoem #emopoetry #emopoem

Let’s put the pieces together
form the remnants of our broken hearts,
let’s tear down these walls,
without tearing each other apart,

pulled in several different directions,
by several different girls,
each one of them in a way a reflection,
of every emotion that’s ever occurred,

so each one of them is special,
which is why the Single Life is preferred,

On a rooftop in Brisbane,
livin’ the business but the thrill is gone,
still I B.B. King,
still I Stay Calm & Carry On,

no crown though,
but best believe beef still gets ground slow,
all I know is Life’s a trip,
so what kinda trip are you on?

∆ LaLux ∆
Brisbane 2019