There's a chase
at the beginning-
with the want and desire
with the back and forth...
like a balanced game of tug of war
But once they get what they want
there is no more chase
there is no need.
They only leave you the morning after
Alone
Alone in the mud

I need to just look at the little things
like the pattern of the clouds
in the sky, the way they look like
skid marks on wet sand,
just licked by the salty lips
of the vast ocean--
and yet you redefined my
whole perspective,
especially on the little things--
The small curve of your smile
and the sweet twinkle in your eye
became my everyday suffice,
and every simple movement
you'd make would knock me
off balance,
tumbling into the abyss:
the emptiness that comes when
someone who was your whole world
decides not to provide you
with the little things
you so desperately need
to survive

I watch the way
your paws swing at
every moving thing,
Your eyes darting
to and fro-
back and forth
between every stimulus.

The birds chirping
catches your attention
and the window becomes
your throne, staring longingly
into unexplored territory.
A passing car
turns your head,
perking ears, and
curiosity on your
sandpaper tongue.

As a small, young kitten
every thing is new.
You look around at
each passing object,
and each one excites you anew.

You entertain yourself
with hanging window strings,
and chew on the zippers
of my backpack,
ignorant to the existence
of "school."

When I was ignorant of school
and every passing thing
excited me-
I was a child, young,
innocent.
You are a child, young,
innocent.

I dangle your fluffy
purple, jingling toy in front
of your small cat eyes,
praying the day that
it doesn't excite you
never comes.

I cry for all this hurt in the world
For all the pain and suffering

I cry for all the people who don’t deserve what they get
For the kind soul that goes to jail
For drug possession
When he’s so lost and so depressed
He didn’t know what he got into in the first place

I cry for this world we live in
For all the judgments wired in our brains
When did we become such critiques of people
Who were already set in their ways

I cry for our sanity
I cry for the sanity I had but is lost
I cry because it should not have been taken from me

I cry for my self worth
And the self worth of many who believe their worth is nil
I cry for the extent of pain we feel
Just to receive a glimmer of acceptance
I cry for the pain I put myself through

I cry for anyone and everyone who’s cried (hopelessly)
I hurt for anyone and everyone who’s hurt (themselves)
I feel for anyone and everyone who’s felt (alone)
I die for anyone and everyone who’s dead (inside)

PURE*       is attractive
because they can corrupt it--
they can tear it to shreds,
leaving tears in your eyes;
defecate on the innocent
like stealing candy from a baby

And once you are used
like a tool, worn out
from the pain,
the pleasure

The masked face
The empty face-like death-
coming to reap your soul
and **** your heart

*****        is old and bent
flexible like a contortionist
whose bones were removed
by force.

Tie me up and beat me--
until i erode like a mineral,
until i dissolve from solid to liquid,
until i break down my components--
I'm all I've got left

what a game being played
I feel the strings
not yet fine tuned to my soul
stretching
they want to be taut
to be taught
to step away
from hurt, loss, happiness
none of it is mine
I am separate.
outside of this experience
there is laughter to be had.
of course there are feelings to feel
and things blockading my clear canvas but
outside of this
there is time to learn
things to teach
there is wisdom to be taut
so the events of nonlinear, wavy days
can pass, as it all must.
greater opportunity
to uncover the self and harness
the only distinct power that one has.
nothing
is forever.
but it happened and there is time
to make it all happen.
understand it will never happen
that way
again.
we are all going.
I don't want to be left behind and I don't want
to leave anything behind.
we are all alone.
but that doesn't have to hurt us

We were great
until the *** talk,
until the thrill of what
we were naturally so close too
swarmed, and left us
emaciated-
in the rubble of what once was
but never will be

We clicked
until each word mattered
and held the weight of
the world
on the small curvatures of
a letter-
until the pressure
crushed our passion
and snuffed out the mystery;
the fear of monogamy
held in your eyes and
reflected in these lonely ones of mine

We were sound
until the chaos of romance
became a lie between friends
losing touch, losing love

We were harmony,
until the earth turned
and the contents shifted with it

i can hear deafening screams
the outside nighttime calls out
and flashes disguises the moonlight
pulls the cloak over our eyes and
calls itself daytime
for a picture of that blue sky.

only it's the middle of the night
and a neighbors drunken boyfriend
has left the door unlocked
and unhinged and screaming
open
so all the animals can flee out
while the insects
trickle
in.

and this is where we make our home
on the outskirts of dysfunctional
bordering loony
keeping the balloon tied down
by threads on our tent stakes in the ground
and even those move
campsite to campsite, past adventure and
future chaos - excitement
lingers
in the carnivorous blows of midnight winds
pleading us all stay inside, cocooned
has me begging for company
within my room; reminding me home
is the thing that never leaves the soul
once she's here.

is the echo
that the scary but empty thunder
trails behind in the noiseless spaces.

yet the sound of patter on the concrete
not even a samurai sword could swing through
like running naked and exposed
through wet grass lawn and
prodding danger
with a skinny stick stabbing marshmallows
to mend the wound
that lightning brings
like when everything hurts
that the light in her eyes
sees what we are trying to hide
sees and does not question
knows and does not cower
accepts and does not judge
the tower
of beckoning searching power
is as mystic as the magic behind
the truth that its miraculous we're still here
beating chambers of our hearts to open
into that stormy night
and beam our ships back home
like bearing wedding rings
that will only officially make us wives
to bruise our loyalty with kung-fu
and pirating
but we will make that wreckage
into battered art and take fear
into our shaking arms
swaddle its rain soaked face
in warmth

teach it love
consists of way more than two parts
whisper
that every ghost has its dance
every bull has its muscle and its horn
and every soul
has its retreat into the unknown
yet it spills grace
to grab it by the throat
scream there's still hope
and stand up toward
the blackout of a thunderstorm
ringing
like the doorbell might break down
and she would rush in
to swaddle doubt once again
against the cradle of her belly
to sing: *shh, hush, now...
it's me, i've got you.

I put my faith into words
I try to articulate my feelings for you
To explain through text the emotions
Rattling through my blood and my heart

The words never seem right
The text never manages to get the point across
I wait for your response
And it is never what I hope for

But neither are the words i spoke
And I blame myself for your ignorance
Of my love for you.
Excuse me, I'm speechless

I search the cavities of my heart
Scour my brain for the lines-
The strings of letters of words 
That I must compose to let you know my cries

But I never can say the right thing 
And you never let me in
And I can see the words I speak mean nothing to you-
I can see that now 

You did all the listening 
And I did all the talking.
And when you finally spoke up
It hurt my ears and heart to listen

Just like that you end our relationship-
My mind never was enough
My body never was enough
My words never were enough 

And I'm left to wonder where exactly
The perfect words reside.

The creepy Italian guy
stares at us under his
bushy, too close together eyebrows
and he yells at us when we get free refills,
“You are costing me a fortune!”
but we don’t care what he says
because the soda machine
is right there
waiting for us to click in our cup
and nourish ourselves on the sweet,
high fructose corn syrup of youth

and the astonishment when the
two plates of fries comes,
one golden one curly—
and our napkin of ketchup wedged between—
two different types of potatoes
for two very different types of people

and yet, best of friends.
Connected companions at heart,
drilled in by the constant company
in childhood.
and yet, beautiful,
because without my best friend
no aspect of life could be the same

infinite time we have to spend
sauntering around in our woods,
our home:
the log cabin stretch of mount laurel
the not-so-busy shopping center
holding the Pizza King
where we would sit in a booth
long after our food was gone;
for in youth, there are
infinite things to say

and we are both now almost fully grown,
you have your high school diploma
and you will be off in the fall
for the big city,
and I’ll be stuck in a small town
full of small minded people,
feeling small while you
make a name for yourself
in the big “real” world

but no matter where we both go
we will look back
and remember all the times
we shared together—
good and bad,
family and friends,
home cooked meals and
long stays in the little pizza place
across the street
from our youth

Fighting for someone who understands
But where's that mystery man
And when the time is right for him to be revealed
Will I revel in his presence, bask in his touch
Or will I back away based on just the hunch
That no ones who they seem
They might not be right for me
Some people's eyes hold gleams
While others silently scream
Let me out of this mess
Confess it's all a dream

So leave me to the scene
The white knight has finally come
But wait, something's not right
It's all become undone
It's hard to love a person
Whose essence of being is torn
Because no one gets forewarned
No one knows what they've signed up for

Who lays it out on the table
Puts their whole selves out there for review
So when picking your lover
Bite off only what you can chew
Because any more and you'll choke
On the lies they thought you'd bought
On your partners thoughts and smoke

Before you indulge
Know the depth of your plunge
So you won't have to scale a wall
When they're not who they said they were
And you're stuck at the bottom of love--

It's dingy

I am simple, yet complex--
I am holy, but a peasant

I release, as I embrace--
I plunge into the depths,
         all the while recoiling like a striking snake.

The only thing I can do
is take one step away
from my past
and turn the corner
of a completely disguised
pathway.

A pathway, not a tunnel;
not a tunnel that
confines you in a circular hole;
not a tunnel that runs
under a river, smothering you
from view--
but an open pathway
in the gleaming sun.
A trail that allows the
warm light to burn your shoulders.

A straight shot to pain,
to discovery, to light.
A mesmerizing array of experience,
leading to a bottomless pool
of endless love.

Take the first step.

I’m in some faraway place
In my head,
As if I could rewind
The hands of time:
I’m standing on a bridge,
Our bridge,
Waiting for you to join me,
But you never come.
I’m in your room
Sitting on your bed and
Watching harry potter,
Waiting for you to come back
From talking to your little sister,
But you don’t live here anymore.

I’m searching and searching
For you in the neighborhood
We both once occupied,
But I find not a trace.
You’re not anywhere
In my physical realm—
Not here, nor there,
And certainly not under that—
But you’re everywhere
In my heart

I wish that I’d recorded
Every conversation we ever had,
Because then I’d have
Almost a year’s worth of material—
Of you and me—
To watch over and over,
So I can further delay
My getting over you

I let you
so far in
believing
that you’d hold my discombobulated bones
in your weary boy hands
and devote your life
to being sure I hung
propped up and connected
by string
all 206 bones
right beside you mixing
your phalanges in with mine
owning my thoughts and finishing the sentences
I couldn’t
for the people
I couldn’t face and taking the
troubles I resurrected from the depths
just so you could take them
into yours and dissolve them
again in to the water
below the bridge –
cast in to that ***** water below the bridge that crumbled
and sank in that same pollution
as I did
when we were broken
and my bones corroded with my soul
along the muddy, trash-ridden bank
and when my faith dragged my
withered torn body towards the grass
and my mind longed more to fail
and to die and to hurt
it wasn’t you that picked me up,
but my faith
and how my eyes took notice
that none of my bones were cracked
only a piece of me left under that bridge
but not a shattered bone
and that leaves you gone
with me in one piece
and I have yet to discover
a bigger miracle

sometimes I wish you'd come
crawling back to me--
stripped of your dignity,
naked in your mistake

then thinking back to when
I actually could say
I knew you,
returning goes against your nature--
you will never come back to me

when you're done,
you're done--
and I'm just another one
you've left behind

I let them tangle together
And I flow securely on the wind
I am free

I am free
Like a bird
Soaring over the mountains

Soaring over the mountains
While you're down
On the ground
Herding sheep

You are the only thing
That made me feel important
For as long as I have lived
And those simple gifts you
Bestowed upon me—
Time, effort, patience
Kind words and friendship—
Kept me afloat when I carried
The weight of an anchor
On my insecure shoulders

But yet companionship
Does not promise a cure
To loneliness—
And food does not
Promise a cure
To hunger—
And blood
Does not promise a cure
To pain—

While buried in sin—
Reluctant to give in—
Answers come from within

~~
it’s a shame what I seek
I cannot achieve—

perfection

~~
if there’s more to life
why don’t I see it—
if there’s more to experience
why don’t I feel it—
why am I blind—
why am I numb—

the pale rays of sunshine
leaking through the window
on promising mornings
no longer curl my lips into a smile—
instead I awaken sad and alone—
“another day still? Another day?”

I am a hollow being
With no soul inside—
I ceased to be living
When I succumbed to my mind

~~

I must display my bones
To the world—so they see
What’s so very much a part of me.
To display my canvas—my thoughts—
So they can be taught—
So I will be skinny

~~

a life without pain
is a body without a heart

So what's another day
When they all blur into
A smoke filled haze
With friends who seem constant
That slowly turn to go

Leaving a girl with no direction
A childhood buddy in college
A neighborhood friendship
disintegrated into dust with a divorce and a packed up moving van
A juvenile lover that never faced forward

Some close network of strings
becomes untangled like a
Man walking into a spiders web
Leaving a mess of broken connections and fake smiles
Long days with real tears
Overwhelming fears

A girl who grasps to every passing soul
The one who blindly follows what she knows

The same woman who steps back and takes a breather
Chooses to leave the broken tangle of ripped silk webbing
To start over instead

But what's another day,
When every day counts
Toward the kind of change
She craves

the sharp cut of the ink
temporarily tattoos
the A into my palm

“A”
for awake,
not lying in a cocoon
of blankets and pillows
but up and about
throughout the day;
awake

“A”
for alive,
with a readable pulse
and a flush
to the cheeks—
able to move, to speak;
alive

the thin drawn line
of the tip to skin
form the capital letter A
traced into the usual
clean canvas
of my inner hand,

laced with meaning,
singed with regret
flaming in the ashes
of how I remember things to be

awake, alive,
asleep, abandoned,

dead

it is not possible
for the days to blend
together

as each moment
is fresh
like fresh cut leather
(no wait, fresh cut leather
would be animal skin-)
so fresh
like the wet cracked sheet
of something beautiful,
molded around
the frame of a drum.

remember how
you made them in memory of her.

each second is a new formation
of destiny

remember how the rough, wet gravel
felt between your toes?
how the surprise rose
from your mothers' throat
when you said "i'll do it!" took off
your shoes, rolled up your pants and stepped
- without inhibition -
into a crate of mud, rocks, cement
remember
how you made wine
beneath your clumsy feet.

what a strange feeling, forgetting;
where is it
going?
let the essence of those memories,
of the things that make you
who you are
echo through your eyes
in conversation.
forget instead,
the unknown. coming. forget the question.
for in forgetting you are lost,
you are found.
in forgetting,

you

just

are

and that is the ultimate answer.

Does he notice when we meet eyes
In the hallway
In passing
But nonetheless: eye contact

Does it do to him what it does to me?
Send me back in time
to how things used to be

Does he remember all we used to say?
The way we felt
Holding hands in a crowd
United in his shed—
Simple in our time together

Does he reminisce and ponder
all that could have been different
between us, not this
rotten separation

I wonder what he thinks when he sees me.
Does it make him feel at all?

I can get up
Get ready,
Go out
With my “friends”

Celebrate the beginning
Of a year
So similar to all the others

I can sit here
In my bed
And mope about the
Past;
Past people
Past home
Past life

I can lay here
Sick
To my stomach,
In my heart

Listening to the cheers
Around me;
The rosy-cheeked faces
Of a little too much
Champagne

Only living in my mind
To a year behind
From this day,
I could only call it a
Celebration,
Because I was with you

And you watched me
When I fell,
Helped me up and
Stopped the torture

Now,
One year later
You’re not here
And I’m crying
As I’m falling
And falling

I wish you’d look at me and see beauty—
Something you’d want to hold close to you—
My hand against yours.
I wish you’d look at me and see my light—
Make me see it—
My sun against yours.
I wish you’d look at me and accept me—
So maybe I can accept me too—
My confidence against yours.
I wish you’d look at me and see the love of your life—
Someone you can laugh with—
My heart against yours.
I wish you’d look at me and see beauty—
See trust and hope and life—
My love against yours.

IS IT OK?
                  if I am soft
                   like an
                   innocent
                   child's' skin
IS IT OK?
                 if I am not
                  thin--but
                  you can rest
                  your head
                  on me
IS IT OK?
                 if I don't
                  moan
                  when it doesn't
                  feel good
IS IT OK?
                 *if I go somewhere
                  else
                  entirely

i lay here and i think
and i think
and my mind spins and
whirls out of control-
wishing for sleep.
wishing for the power to sleep.

but my mind is too crazy;
my thoughts too heavy.
they occupy my mind 24/7
but they get louder at night
when everything's quiet
and i'm alone with myself.

as the night rolls on
and no sleep comes
the feeling of my presence becomes too much.

i am too much
my mind is too much.
i feel my thoughts spread,
spread from a tiny blossom in my brain
which becomes the roots
of which they intertwine and grow
until they're beyond my head.
they fill my room and they become too much.
i am too aware of them,
too aware that they are calling me to them
to process them, to deal with them-
but all i want is sleep.

i get angry, and i feel crazy,
and i toss and
i turn and i want to scream
"get out of my head and let me rest!"
but i know they will never leave,
they are a part of me.

for some people,
sleep comes easy-
they shut their eyes
and they're out for the night.
for me it is a process,
an endless torturous process.

a process, procedure;
a method.
a method that i try to figure out.
try to dissect,
find my way around.

but every night it changes,
and it's never quite the same.
there's no simple rule,
no simple cure.

there is no around,
there is only through.

so i wait out the night,
i wait out the thoughts,
until they run their course
and let me drift off.

i can't create the power to sleep,
i must let the sleep come to me.

It’s a funny thing
Being able to realize
They don’t have everything as figured out
As you thought they did
And you are both reduced to
The fear of a child
A child lost in a corn maze, that of which
An exit might as well not exist
And the path being sewn towards the future
Is unclear
For both of you; for everyone

It’s an odd thing
Being able to realize
Those mistakes of the past, the people
Who you think are haunting
Are only taunting—
Getting lost in your imaginary plot
The false narrative of events which never lead you
      To just the right picture
Because the future
   Does not arise from the ashes of days gone up in flames;
The future


                                               sits on the edges of your toes
                                                                     and
                                   perks up when the hair on your arm feels prickly
                                                                     but
                                          stirs when his endless eyes walk past;
                                                                     and


     the future
is never painted across the part in his lips
     or the feel of his inner thighs,
it is never handed over in his goodbyes

yes

                                the future

is a mystery

                                a delicacy;

the future

                             unravels with the clocks

ticking

                             marking the instant

pairs of eyes connected

                             but never promising

it will last

                             beyond
                                  a
                             memory
      
                 ~~

Cant believe I did that
Cant believe how I’ve acted
Cant believe who I’ve slept with
Cant believe all the ways I’ve let myself down

Stare out the window of a moving car
Into the snowstorm parading around the town—
The streetlamps illuminate the strong flurries
As they fall and coat the streets
Disgusing all the pain underneath

Stare out the window of a moving car
Straight in to the searing eyes of nostalgia
Straight through the ghosts of people who have left,
Were once so happy together, and now are transparent—
As good as dead

Cant believe where I’ve gone
Cant believe who I’ve seen; who I’ve lost
Cant believe the world continues to spin
Cant believe I’m still alive

Can't explain the rumble I felt
deep in the gutter of my stomach,
couldn't believe how fast
I got taken over and
brought down to my knees
like a servant
to some devious beast.

It was a party gone awry;
the kind of get together where flashing
red and blue lights interrupt the rowdy kids
just as soon as they've got ****** up,
but we hadn't even reached there yet;
and here I am shaking
in front of empty girls with
mean eyes; full makeup

and a new kind of burn came next
when I saw you come through
the front door
and bypassed me like every other
soulless flesh-and-bones--
and you are just as empty
as you passed me
as I shook
and I crumbled
and not one soul took notice,
especially
not
you

for the woman
with the faith
which keeps her afloat

even when
her Breaths are short
and she can barely move
in her cocoon
within her head
where she sits with dread
within a head
that pulses with pain
every second of every day

and still
she manages
to take a big Breath
and go on a ride

for a best friend
for a daughter,
A family;

for her passion
she crawls out of bed
and rises
with the sun

to one

big:

Inhale,
Exhale

of another day

I've got nothing to say
when luminescent tears
drip from faces
I haven't seen
and words crusted behind
lids of skin
I haven't touched

come forth

and when they sing out
with voices deeper
than the rolls of the sea
but soft like
a women
I wonder
where they've been

come forth

singed blades of grass
may be black
and they may prickle your
toes when you walk barefoot
but unclothed you
stand there

come forth

there's nothing to be said
when promises linger
drenched in viscous fingers
who's nails
have yet to scrape the dirt
from under the kneecaps of their own hurt

come forth

into the silence.
there's an ocean of salt
that leaks from the eyes
of every punctured soul
that cannot speak

please,
come forth

if I could only love myself
today
there's no telling what would come
on the morrow--
maybe I'd be courageous enough
to put down the pipe
and pick up
a pencil
more often;
maybe I'd glide
through love
without feeling like I'm
soaring
to plunge deeper than
I've ever been
before. and
if I could only love myself
today
I'd give it all up
if you'd let me
love you...

if I could just love myself
today

I want to discover you
To peel your layers back-
I want to find you
So you can find yourself
     In this mess we call life
I want to stare into your teary eyes
And be the one to tell you
It’s all going to be all right and you’ll get through
Because I’ll help you
So you can help yourself
     In this mess we call life
I want you to know you’ll always be safe with me-
That I’ll always be here to welcome you home
Be a shoulder to cry on
A hand to hold
So you can find strength
     In this mess we call life.