Me and my mom
I'm feeling nervous
A little bit shaky, little bit trembling
Eye to eye
In the longest stroll of my life
My excuses are my only weapon
Against the strongest wall of madness
My positive thoughts
They are my only shield in this war of heart and mind
Please stop hurting me
I whisper, trying to escape while wide awake
Trying thoughts real for reality sake
Somehow would you please assure me
That this night mare will be gone
Because I fear that my positive feelings
Wo'nt even return to my heart.
I used to wander the streets.
Looking for love in all the wrong places.
Then I found you.
Now the streets don't look nearly as dangerous, and the sky has never looked so blue.
You are the sun, the moon, and the stars.
And you'll forever be burning in my eyes
I'm living enclosed inside a place nobody knows about where a part of my soul grows in the dark and it blossoms in the cold.
Being the only soul here, it gets lonely; nobody to hold me, but if only I was more like the old me and had more of an open heart policy.
This space allows me to hide my true face; pushing away out of this place others who get too close. I have come to just embrace it.
There's a certain limit I have when it comes to outsiders being in it trying to find and get inside of my mind to get closer, unaware they're not going to win it.
It's been a minute since I've allowed it; I'm not proud of it but I can't do anything about it.
So many have tried to get me to confide in them about my spirit that's died; I thought I was hiding it but never knew it was this visible on the outside.
I wear my heart on my sleeve but my soul's in a pocket; deep inside, I zip that bitch up and locked it, threw away the key so no one can come in no matter how much they're knocking.
The only thing accompanying me is a mirror that I allow to be this near for a reason clear enough to understand if you were here.
I punched it watching the cracks spread wildly, but the fact is that simultaneously the reason for that is so it can stay here with me.
Now I'm not as lonely, have no reason to pretend or fake a feeling and even have someone to understand what I'm dealing with when I look at the falling shards of my reflections, then pick my head up to see that I finally have someone here I can see who's as broken as me.
There's a child on the corner, with a tear in her eye. She's missing her mother, we all miss someone who's died.
If we could bring back the ones we loved, we'd just break our hearts again. Is one life enough, or should we do it again?
The little girl is crying, she's letting out a moan. Her mother was dying, now she's all alone.
All she has is her friend, except he's make believe. He looks just like her father, except he wears his heart on his sleeve.
Her mothers last words were "do what you love, and love what you do". Then she gasped for air, and her face turned blue.
On cold nights, she thinks of her mother. And what she would've been. With her own mind she fights, to wipe the slate clean.
pink satin masks
blood and broken toes.
i keep effortless poise
while knees and lungs shake.
i dance in tattered tutus,
in old toe shoes,
for a pocketful of coins;
i dance until i am blind with joy,
until my lungs are full of trumpet shouts,
until i am exhausted and weightless,
until my audience is standing,
breath gone, knowing what it is to be--
in the storm of applause
one gnarled hand launches a torch.
"you danced with me," i cry--
her lips seal shut.
wild, cold eyes watch
flames singe my feathers,
fuse flesh to bone,
she stays until she hears
my heart stop.
the stage is ash.
a chorus of mouths emerge from the ground,
my audience, full-throated, white-knuckled,
tchaikovsky hollowing cheeks,
the arsonist stands--
and i ascend from the dirt
on pillars of diamond forged from ash,
while my bare feet spill blood and i say
look at the source of my strength--
while new wings spread,
blood-red and gilded and brilliant in the sun--
while fire sprouts like flowers from my palms,
while spiders wrap my toes in silk
and i dance on thick-tongued harmonies
that tremble the earth with new roots
and i bourrée across the green trunks
and i become the sun
Down in the depths of a wilderness;
the derangement of weed and of wisp.
A creature is arched in a hunker
over bundled leaves; golden and crisp.
Its' blistered hands riddled with splinters
Its' tired face blackened by dirt.
Its' glowing and warm disposition,
Worn pale by commotion and hurt.
It is wary from cold and from torment;
the dark of the forests damp chill.
But it scuffs at the bones as with tinder
igniting the marrow with skill.
Wiping its' brow with its' forearm
the creature desists with a gasp
Smoke trails up through the forest.
A spark has alighted at last.
The flame inhales fallen pine cones;
blazing up through the bramble and briar.
Excitement and fear harmonizing,
'till their voices can't sing any higher;
'till the heart is consumed by her fire.