I want to be a creator, a maker,
to put my heart on paper,
drop words on ground, to bloom for goodness saker,
into swirls and loops, that say if I'm a give or a taker.
put my prints into earth, rebirth,
let soil separate stubbornness from worth.
stars folded into matter, like batter,
like I am and he is, more than what shatters,
and what I roll out, kneed out,
will breath out my souls doubts
that I am a creator, a maker
that swirls around equators,
who is and will be, more than I can wager.

with eyes still closed, my mind awakes
to the ocean upon my door,
it knocks with salty insolence,
my land locked soul to lure.

the thought of coral in chandeliers,
tempts my feet from bed to floor,
but twas the sound of kelp being plucked,
that enticed me to explore.

a tidal wave is just outside,
where mackerel dance and more,
schools of sea-life swim upstairs,
to feed off shipwrecked floors.

with eyes wide open, my mind asleep,
my skin drops on the shore,
my hands scale through my algae hair,
and i hear the turtles lore.

the manatees discuss it too,
a tale of souls at war,
who hear the knock and find reprieve,
in an oceans wandering floor.

i put my ego on the killing floor
thick blood drops, i watch the door
but no escape for who i am
blood drops thick, i am no more

oh, God my soul, ransom me
from beams above, divinity
like honey on my wounds it pours
and washes clean that killing floor

confetti snow, so pretty and untouched,
paint me pink.
pink so I can dive into a well of unreason.
i'll dance with jesters and kiss them goodnight.
never think of the tree where i've buried tomorrows.
all my tomorrows.

then snow turns to slush, pink drips, not my color.
paint me black.
not for death but for classic, a backdrop, a canvas.
paint me black to be strong, an anchor for flurries.
stuck in black.

neither black, neither pink,
paint me white.
white like that snow that turned my feet frozen.
white like the snow, like the pure, like the light.
white like the empty.
yes, paint me white.

we look for ground
our roots can grow in,
soil in which we'll feed.

but I need earth
that quakes and moves me,
earth that I can breathe.

I want a man
who overwhelms,
so loud my screams seem meek

a man so wild
he makes my heart
a damsel in relief

o, let me grow,
and love and live
in more than dirt and dust

let me grow in
earth that keeps
the wild inside of us

Oh, I'll sleep today, dream through tomorrow,
and wake when the quaking is done.
But if sleeping is numbness and dreaming withdrawal,
then what kind of victory'd be won?

Cut through my insides and quarter my borders;
wrapped up 'fore they've fired the gun.
Strength, I now see you, standing perfected,
then willfully you shatter undone.

I want to sit
and watch the heavens move.
Saturated darkness,
not empty but infused.

Vast like an ocean
light swims in ebon grooves.
Feeding off the matter,
every inch of black is fuel.

Particles like creatures
in currents more than smooth.
To be absorbed by darkness
is to feel sublimely used.

I want to sit
and watch the heavens move,
reminded that I'm made of dust
and swim dark currents too.