Author: R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

how to drive a girl “crazy”

1) if you like her, never admit it.
2) if she makes a move, reject her.
3) hang out as much as possible.
4) be very nice but maintain
plausible deniability.
5) if she objects to any of this,
tell her she’s the crazy one.
6) act happy for her when she
meets someone who’s not afraid
to tell her how he feels.
7) die alone.

pity vs. love

you tried so hard
to play upon my pity
tonight, but it didn’t
work. I think I
may have finally learned
the difference between empathy,
hyper-responsibility, and love.
I felt an echo of sadness ring
inside me like a distant bell
at the thought of your
loneliness, but it no longer
has the power
to make me believe that I
need to be the one
who has to step up
to save you from yourself.

Continue reading pity vs. love

bitten.

there’s a spot
on my lip that feels like
I’ve bitten it. I didn’t,
but it feels that way.
it doesn’t hurt,
though it feels like
it should.

it’s like that
when I see you, now.
I remember
having feelings, but
I don’t seem to have them
any more. it’s
for the best. this time
last year I was dying,
suffering, raging, trying to
break free. this year
I’m somewhere else
entirely.

I’m almost out
of the woods,
I think. sorry to hear
that you’re still deep
in the darkness. I hope
you can find your way out
some day.

your labyrinth of manly things

does it smell like
gym socks and the acrid tang
of manly sweat? and what
does it look like?
does it have a pullup bar
and a wet bar, or all the platforms
for playing video games?
a pool table, or a poster
of Megan Fox, or Scarlett
Johansson? an electric
guitar, and all the pedals?
some nun-chuks, or maybe a
samurai sword? a bong, or
three? comic books? or all
of the above?

is it a place
where you go to get away
from all those pesky females
with their inscrutable minds
and inaccessible bodies?

do you hide away in your cave,
your self-imposed cage,
and think about life?

does it
help?

a rare sight

I used to think
when I was getting dressed
to go out for the night, as I
put on my underwear, about how
it didn’t matter if
they were cute, because no one
would see them.

lately
that has changed. that’s why
when you complimented
my underwear
the other night,
I was taken
aback. I forgot
that now someone
might get
to see them.
I’d better step up
my underwear game.

relationship type

here is what
I am used to
when it comes to a
relationship: I martyr
myself and let him
get away with murder.
no one understands what
I see in him because he
picks fights with others and
he’s so utterly different
when we’re alone. but
crying over him gives me
something to be dramatic and
put upon about, almost a
purpose, definitely a cross
to bear.

Continue reading relationship type

dawn in the Garden of Good & Evil

I feel like I should
feel bad, but I don’t. I’m not
the one who took
that vow. and that dog was dead
already before I drove by. I can’t
bring myself to begrudge you
one single moment
of happiness. life’s too short
to suffer when
we could be happy. if love
can be snatched from the jaws
of death, let it be done. woe,
be gone. take off
your chains and be
free. I’ll be here
for you through
whatever hell may rain down
on us.

the whirlwind

my great-aunt May
had a story
about the time she was
walking home from
the grocery store, and a tiny
whirlwind picked her up
and twirled her around
before setting her back
on her feet. she didn’t even
spill a single orange from her
grocery bag. but the one thing
no one ever asked her
was if she felt any different
inside.

as someone who
is currently dancing
with a whirlwind, I can say
that although outwardly
I may look the same,
on the inside I am
forever changed.