Jon Benham

The March Editor's Pick Poet is Jon Benham

Please feel free to email Jon at: jbizzlejonbenham1996@gmail.com



The ground, the path,
all was safe, but now it laughs.
Now, you are unable
to keep yourself stable.
You look to your feet,
have they become a treat?
Eaten by all you can recall,
you have nothing to do but stall.
You are losing, you are losing,
and you trekked this path by your own choosing.
And you are now paralyzed.
And all are too far to hear your cries.
You slip outside of your memories, for a time,
and let the path finish its dirty crime.
You look behind you scared,
with your feet now bare.
Watching the world relinquish
you of your own anguish.
Now you are worried and alone.
Wondering about how you’ve grown.
The memories of pain will recede,
Is this suffering worth feeling freed?


So worried that you are becoming lost.
It’s like, being removed from your crib.
You’re. Already, Beaten.

You see the future, and it is above you.
But more and more, you are feeling small.
You. Have. Lost.

Is it the world that is poisoned? Or is it me.
You ask yourself as you feel an embrace of arms.
What. Am. I?

They touch you to the bone are you safe?
No because the voices are all that matter now.
You’re. Gonna. Die.


what is the meaning
of all of you
looking at me
with soulless eyes
like you know it’s time
for me to meet you
in the room’s corner
where thoughts collide
and the soul won’t survive
but now they all look away
as if you weren’t god.
Grandiose little fuck.
you’re no good at this
pain comes way too swift
loneliness in hindsight
shame in real life.
No, I am not okay
what are you saying?
what are you saying?
you know your reasons
but I know them better
you want me to experience
the pain of wondering how
the universe will die
as I finally close my eyes.

Jon Behnam is twenty-three and is from Connecticut. He has published many poems, several short stories and one novella. He is also a musician and painter.