Sir Real And Miss Fortune

Sir Real says
There’s no place
Like home

Miss Fortune says
I make a better trapdoor
Than a windowsill

I’m depressed
I’m an atheist
I think I’m God
I don’t believe in myself

Sir Real hits me
Where the landlord
Split me

Miss Fortune rubs me
The wrong way

I spill my guts
I spill my seed
I cry over sour
Grapes of wrath

When Sir Real slams
A trapdoor
Miss Fortune shatters
A windowsill

All I want is relief
From the burden
Of being me

All I want is relief
From the burden
Of seeking relief
From the burden
Of being me

All I want is relief
From the burden
Of being free
To choose my own

I Wrote A New Book

My sixth book, Sensitive Soul, is available on Amazon.

Click here to buy it.

Here’s the Amazon description:

In his newest book of poems, Sensitive Soul, Charles B. Snoad continues to heal from depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. Recurring themes include self-doubt, self-acceptance, God, forgiveness, silence, the moon, the sky, and bodies of water. The speakers in these poems don’t always know who they are or where they’re going, but their voices emanate from the same source: a trauma survivor, in love with words, embracing the power of his sensitive soul.

Sensitive Subject

I want to love
a brave woman
a smart woman
a playful woman

I want to embrace
the universe
of joy and sorrow
alive and well
within the soul
of a single woman

but my body is afraid
of being
hurt again

after years of writing
about suffering
and surviving trauma

my body remains
a sensitive subject

Blank Sage

burn all
the books
I wrote
on a whim
and a prayer

I am nothing
more than
a blank sage

tired of being

tired of sitting
with my thoughts

to the one
who hurt me
I say:

hold this poem
near an open flame
catch your soul on fire

Carry My Soul

Depression = Anxiety wants to end Anxiety.
Once and for all.

Mania = Anxiety is up all night.
Perfecting a poem about Anxiety.

PTSD = Anxiety hurts Anxiety.
Anxiety blames himself for creating Anxiety.

This is how
My day begins.

This is how
My life goes

This is how
I fall apart.

Trying to control
Forces out of my control.

Trying to control
My need to control
Forces out of my control.

This is how
My body grows
Too weak
To carry
My soul.