Happy Halloween

Everything was once bright,
but now it’s just so dark.
I can’t walk the streets
without scarecrows
zombies, witches, and
goblins running amuck.
They’re self-delusional
if they think they’re scaring
anyone, let alone me.
Scary or pathetic,
there’s something remotely
alluring about costumes, disguises,
and quite frankly…pretending to be
something, or someone else.
The nice girl, with nude lips
and matching fingernail polish
tamed hair, below-the-knee skirts
with flats
transforms into “Oh La Lola,”
and walks the streets
with her beau camouflaged as her bouncer
flashing her cherry lips, apple-red nail polish,
unruly, wild curls that scream: eccentric
thigh-length skirt complete with
vintage stilettos with heels
reminiscent to vampire steaks.
Not at all superficial, but
short-lived empowerment disguised as
as celebratory scare tactics:
“Trick or treat” and “Happy Halloween.”

My Insecure October

There’s something about
the month of October
the transition to Fall
maybe it’s Halloween
whatever it is
has granted power to the demon
that dwells within me
a force so strong
with a voice so loud
shouting anti-affirmations
silencing my happy declarations
it manifests itself
at the most inopportune times
negating progress, turning wins
into defeats
it doesn't matter,
I’m just not good enough
no matter how much weight I lose
I’m just not small enough
cursed with adult acne
crippled by public speaking,
not animated enough
not enough management experience
loser, loser, loser
deformative at best
consuming my fragile spirit.

The Fall

There was a time
I once thrived
in the rat race,
lived for it
justifying my self-imposed
“busy bee” life
with idioms like
“idle time is the devil’s playground.”
Because to sit still
caused frustration,
self-loathing,
emotional restlessness,
feelings of stagnation…
But with the change
in weather
came a change
in my trajectory.
Running in circles,
wanting so desperately
to jump off that hamster wheel --
only to land
in a pool of idle indulgence.
In the absence of controlled hysteria
I have fallen and
I might not get up.

Rustling Leaves

rustling
rustling
rustling leaves
on an autumn night

dancing to the sound
of the cool breeze
that cool breeze
that sends a titillating chill
down my spine
and up my skirt

rustling
rustling
rusting leaves
on an autumn night

trapped beneath the
boots of a weary soldier
who still smiles at the
thought of his wife and
her spiced apple crumb cake

rustling
rustling
rusting leaves
on an autumn night

whisked away
only to land on a half eaten
pumpkin neighboring
two over-stuffed chipmunks
complete with
plump pronounced bellies

rustling
rustling
rusting leaves
on an autumn night

too bad I’m alone
something about the air
smells crisp, savory and
causes a bone-chilling
nostalgia