Poems about baseball

I love baseball.
The smell of the grass, the crack of the bat, the pop of ball hitting mitt.
I love baseball.
The friendship, the camaraderie, the seed shells littering the ground.
I love baseball.
From behind home plate, to the on deck circle, to the bullpen in right center field.
I love the fist bumps I recieve, entering the dug out after a well placed sac-bunt.
I love the hollers and cheers when the ball flies over the fence.
I love seeing the other players and knowing they love the same things as me.
Standing on the top step of the dug out, impatiently waiting for my spot in the lineup.
I love watching my shortstop tag out runner after runner.
I love my pitcher hitting his spots and I love our left fielder diving for pop flies.
I love catching and blocking balls in the dirt.
I love the bruises I find on my body after every game.
I love keeping my foot on home plate before throwing over to first on a double play.
I love seeing the lights and hearing the cheers, knowing they're for me, my team, my sport.
I love baseball.

I could suffocate you with clever wordplay
And say that i'd pay to lay with you for another day
But i'm past the point of the paradox and price
In that skirt that first night you looked so nice
I couldn't imagine what i'd done to see that
Your walk is like a bash to the skull with a baseball bat

So lay me down and cut me open
Let you see inside while you still can
Baby, lets just vibe in the moment
Baby, you eliminate all my torment

You're just a blip on my screen now
Double-tapping your pics and asking myself how
How could things have just snowballed
I just wish you would've picked up when i called
Now my heart is filled up and tapped out
But, my death, you won't know about

Will you step up to the plate
Swing and take your best chance
It's so fucking easy, boy
Just look at the ball.
It's right there waiting
In front of your eyes.
Moment paused
You stand bat drawn back
Staring at this chance in front of you
You act like you're ready
What the hell is your problem, boy?
You flippin retarded
Or somethin?
You look like you're ready
You act like you want to
So swing
The goddamn bat already!

I wish to see your
Face again,
That eyes that
Make me flutter.
I wish to see your
Face again,
And this time not
Say words that stutter.

God has taken the taste
Yet addiction,
I still chase.

My last few dollars,
I willingly give to waste.

I call it my crave case
When it hits,
It like landing on first base.

Its not home,
I'm not safe
I'm out when I meet him face to face.

I've become very analytical
I'm waking up every morning and then laying back down three times over
I go to turn on my light switch and miss and I miss and I miss again
I walk out my front door and pull the door slowly
God so slowly, as to not wake anyone

I walk down the street and I'm counting my steps
200, 201, 202, 203, keep going

I hold hands with my girlfriend and I won't stop holding her hand until she breaks away
I have this habit of picking at my cuticles
But I pick too far and then they bleed all over the carpet
They are constantly pink and puffy
Much like my broken down lips

I am so tired of hearing
"You're not fucking good enough"
As my father hits me again
I lay there counting the blows as my mouth is bleeding on the ground
I draw a smiley face in the puddles
That only pisses him off more
And he hits me harder
There is a smashed mirror sitting on the ground across from us
I catch a glimpse of myself smiling
What the fuck is wrong with me

I wake myself up from nightmares
Every night at the same damn time, 4 am
I hear my mother talking in her sleep
We have a conversation that only I will remember
This is my nightly schedule and it will not change
I will not change

I paint my nails black to cover up the fact that they are purple and blue from pulling them from the skin one too many times
My eyes are dark as if I've been in a fight everyday for the past week
It's just my lack of sleep

People talk to me and I don't hear what they are saying
There mouths move and silence
My mind spins and spins
Like its part of a machine factory
I am hitting myself in the head
Trying to break the thread that tangles my thoughts so that I can finally form words
This is me
And I can't ever take any of that away from myself

He's afraid of the ocean
Because he doesn't understand why the shoreline deserves to be kissed
Every time they push the waves away.
He thinks we're all going to die and it'll be for nothing;
That will live to fill up empty spaces like headless bees
With a desire to sting the very first thing we touch.
He believes that these limitations and politics are pointless
Because apparently keeping your hands to yourself was something someone made up
Because they were crookedly insecure about themselves.
He looks up at the sky and hates the moon
Because it doesn't burn bright enough to cover up all the secrets that the stars hold.
So he blames the system and closes his eyes and goes to sleep.
He listens to renditions of the same story told in fifteen different ways and is captivated every time because its so simple
And so easy
To have someone teach them for you
Instead of sleeping on a bed of blades.
He doesn't even walk
He saunters
And nods as a hello
And wears baseball caps
Because maybe it'll shadow the lies he wears creased between his eyes.

He isn't real,
No matter how many times you touch him.

He'll claim that he is a bearer of the sun and that the light is the ode to freedom
But you've never in your life kissed anything so cold.
He'll whisper to you and you'll want to whisper back,
But you'll find yourself driving home
Screaming at the top of your lungs
Because you left drunk
And he was more worried about his career
Than your heart through the windshield
When he could've just drove you home himself.
He's Pinocchio and you'll end up wishing he could lie better
So you could feel like a respected lady just once.
But his tone reminds you
That the only kind of love a boy like him is made for
Is the kind of love that leaves you bleeding and wet.
He's an empty auditorium full of reverberating echoes
And you'll spend your time
Waiting
Sitting
Wondering
When the show will end—
Not even realizing that the jokes on you.
You could've drawn the curtains at any point in time
But you didn't
Because he was smiling
And nothing in this world is as lethal as his smile
As he tells you
There's nothing to be afraid of

Those words are bullets
And you weren't wearing any armor.

Everyone is cheering
Waiting for the ball to swing.
They are all so intense
Waiting in suspense.
They want to see who will win.
Suddenly, the ball starts to spin.
Crash! It falls down
Straight at the ground.
The batter starts to run.
In the hot, blazing sun.
YES! Its a Home Run!