Leo R. Skoble

Osseous Slumber I saw the travel brochure in the lobby of the anger management clinic. Yes, I know the clinic isn’t just for that, but I don’t care. That’s all it is to me. An hour of my precious week that I must throw at the feet of this crystal-loving therapist with chunky earrings that probably hurt her earlobes. Maybe that’s why she’s so stuck up. It’s either that or losing my job. It doesn’t even help. That waiting room is the blandest, bless this mess, fake potted pla

self-portrait as lowercase letters i am overlooked, overshadowed, as big bold lettering is always in the way of me wanting to be seen but not wanting to be perceived since i have things to say that aren’t as important as you, highlighted and italicized: always soaking up the sun as if nobody else wanted it because you’re not thinking as much as i about how we are seen perceived and noticed. you would benefit from less centered text, if you listened, that is to say i wish you

Make me a Man Take this scalpel and cut my skin, I’ve made my decision to have the incision regardless of What it may leave behind – Scar tissue is preferable on my body As opposed To on my mind. I have not changed what’s in my heart nor what’s in my mind But there are scars here, and there They will remain for a while – I can’t get rid of them that easily. It’s part of the process of healing – fusing Processing… Waiting for Festering wounds to settle their biological boiling

The first time I saw her , she was just another shadow haunting my dreams. I had usually forgotten about her by the time I woke up. Her words never stuck with me, if she even said anything at all. Her visage never left a mark on my waking mind. No imprint of her features was burned into the inside of my eyeballs, like a television left on for too long. At least not at first… My dreams were more magical back then, when she still lived there. Dragons flew freely through the ski

What You Should Know To Be a Poet Peaches, plums, lemons, and mushrooms Slimy, sticky, soft, and sweet Sprawling wheat fields, golden in the setting sun. You must teleport 20 miles down the road to interrupt it with leaves. dappled bits of magic floating down around you, the underbrush crackling with hidden and forbidden knowledge Know this: you left your car back at the field Bile, bending, breaking, blooming Treetops choking those beneath them, your feet hurting trying to g