I wish my body was painted
With all the stories of my life
All the joy and heartbreak
Sprawled across my skin.
I wish I could simply
Trace the lines of a scene
Instead of clawing at words
To pull these feelings from myself
Hoping someone could understand them.
I wish there were scars and stretch marks
And something to show for it
Instead of empty arms
And an empty belly
I wish I could have met you
To follow the curve of your face
With the tips of my fingers
To breathe you in
To kiss your tiny lips.
I wish I could show the world to you
And show you to the world, but
I have nothing left to show of you.
No scars, no stretch marks,
No watercolor scenes.
Just an emptiness in me.

For he loved her so,
He could not let her go;
Not from his sight,
Nor from his arms.
She had nestled herself in,
Grown roots into his ribs
And wrapped her essence
Around his heart
So tightly that without her,
Without the vines of her love,
His heart would fall away,
Lost from its cage forever.

I love the width of your shoulders,
The curve of your spine.
I have every inch of you memorized.
Your flawless imperfections.
Cast your shadow through the door
And come lay your weight down a while.
The world still turns
Even if it's not on your shoulders, love.

As if I had any words left to write,
Anything important left to say.
You stole all my thoughts
Still warm with breath
And made them your own.
You thief in the night,
You tongue twisting
Tale telling weaver
Of contorted views,
All your own.
I hope they see your side.
God knows you stole
All the right words
To build the scaffold
On which you stand.
Enjoy the breeze.
Watch your step.
It's a long drop.

Here we are again.
Lying on my side,
You running your nonexistant nails
Down the curves of my bare back.
"I can't tell what you're writing."
"I'm not writing, stupid.
I'm drawing."
And I lay there
Reveling for 10 minutes,
Not at the comfort of being touched,
But because it's your fingertips
Tracing your silly doddles
Across my bare skin.
I'm not sure how we got here.
From crab rangoons and redbull,
To sushi and back scratches;
From best friends to this,
This thing so out of touch
With any sensical title.
I'm too much of a ****
To even begin to act like I notice,
To show that I'm more aware than I seem.
Time for a new distraction.
"Meet Virginia" is on, time to tease you.

If I had to pick my poison
A crown on a pillow placed,
Would by far satisfy my taste
And bring with it a haze
To quell my blatant savagery,
That harsh and brazen reality
Of the razor wire surrounding me.

Here comes the day;
Opening the door into the rays of sun,
Meeting face to face the morning dew
And the fresh smell of wet grass.
I take a breath and hold it in
Willing it with everything to last
To give me strength to face this day.
Before the clouds roll in
And steal the show,
I brush the hair from my eyes
And soak up the sun a little more
To bask in its warmth
And allow it to bathe my face,
Dry any lasting tears from the evening before
When I last felt your cool embrace,
So different from these celestial arms.
The night and I were lovers once,
But doing as lovers often do
I found distraction in warmer places,
In smiling, well-lit faces in parks
Instead of local bars and ran
Before the shadows could give chase.
Tell me, is the grass greener
Just because the sun shines on it?
Doubtful.
I miss the cool evening air
That chilled my cheeks
And took my breath away.
And should my old lover call to me
I’d answer so gratefully with a sigh
As I’d lean into the shadows and
Let them hold me once more.

Victims, aren't we all?
In a world lost, dark,
Riddled with countless stars.
Give up a glance
Inside the twisted soul and
Never give yourself up
In this insanity spree, my dear.
Androgyny suits you.

Dear God,
These songs make me
Remember Everything
About all those
Careless Whispers
You spoke to me,
So Far Away.
Like you would
Never Think
To just
Let It Be
And let us go our
Separate Ways, Worlds Apart.
So, here I am, stuck in
The Space Between
Where all my
Grace is Gone.
I just don't know
Why I Love You
And all I can hear is
"Don't Stop Believin'."
It's just one
Bad Day
After another for this
Southern Girl.
Eventually I won't be
Tangled Up In You
Anymore. I'll just be one of those
Misguided Ghosts.
But until then, you can
Call Me
Anytime, and just
Maybe,*
I won't need to find a
*Gravedigger.

you know ...
They all say sight
Is the first to go
When youth gives way
To age and the young
Grow old and forget.
But look through the eyes
And hear it on the tongue
Of a child
And monsters are everywhere;
Behind every closet door,
Reaching from under every
Lengthy bed skirt
And laughing in every shadow.
A child
With eyes so new
And freshly forged in the fire
Can see them clearly
And know them well,
But the old
Whose eyes are rusting,
And whose fires have grown cold.
Lose sight and forget,
They forget their childhood,
They forget the nightmares,
And see only what the light can hold.

What words describe you?
Lost in loving translation,
All for a tattoo.

A pencil dooms the poet
With it's temporary words
So easily erased.

On my midnight, midweek walk
I went searching for Disaster.
Being all ****** up
With no place to go
I think I found him.
He opened a door for me once
And I barely noticed
As I swept right through.
Now, so many midnight strolls since,
I go out searching for Disaster,
And when I opened the door for him,
He barely notices
As he sweeps right through me.

If ever there were a perfect time for lies
It would be now.
If only I could weave a tangled web
Of lies so beautifully thread
Together in their simplicity,
To make a bouquet of flowered words
Gently flowing down stream
In a basket carrying all our misplaced hopes
And our misplaced dreams.
If ever there were a time for lies,
It would be today, this hour.
I'd tell the lies a parent tells a child
To keep the tame, the meek,
From escaping aimlessly into the wild,
but still I doubt you'd hear
My feeble attempt at words
With those high tuned ears,
That catch only the off beat phrases,
My mumbled words, and jumbled speech.
You hear the fool side of me
And take no time to hear my lies,
Those lies that could save you time
And time again, if I could only
Spin the web a little craftier,
A little stronger and thicker in the threads.
Maybe then you'd believe the lies I spread.

Who is it that I write for?
There's no pressure to impress
No needs that need met,
There's only myself.
My sanity laid bare,
My instability shining
The cross I bear held high
For all to see.
But I do not write for you.
I do not write to catch your eye
Or cross your gaze.
I'd rather some not read
My impoverished words at all.
This is personal.
My most private thoughts
I'm too afraid to speak,
But come alive as words in ink.
This is for me.
This is my mirror,
However distorted in may be.

There's lightning bolts on the air conditioner,
Magnetic words on the refrigerator,
Crazy cats on the hard wood floor
This isn't your average house next door.
There's a barbed wire fence in our backyard.
Unlocking the door is awfully hard.
We've got a back porch, but no back door.
And non-existent traction on that **** hard wood floor.
The house around the corner just couldn't compare.
At least over here I have some fresh air.
A place we can stand to smoke when it rains,
And oh, did I mention, these cats are insane!

I thought I knew you
That crooked smile I love most.
Doctor, who are you?

I’ve got triggers.
Triggers in places I never knew.
A smell, a touch, a taste
Can all send me reeling;
Lost in a memory.
Treading the dark waters
To keep my mind from going under,
A fight I nearly always lose.
Not many would understand.
Cigarette smoke and alcohol,
That vague perfume you’d find
In all those seedy bars
We used to frequent.
I find myself drawn to that
Faint fragrance & my pulse quickens.
A mental sketch of us crosses my vision.
You, with your hand sliding up my thigh,
Me, hoping the patronage of the bar didn’t see.
And then it fades.
My pulse slows, slows, slows,
... Stops.
Skips a beat.

Like it used to when your
Hand would wind its way,
Wrap itself around my neck.
My vision would blur,
Images would sway.
Relaxing your grip,
While my body burns
And the fire in my lungs is quenched.
My lips pressed to your skin;
The bitter, sweet, salty taste
Of sweat and lust on my tongue.
My pulse quickens again,
Faster, faster & faster,
Then sinks further into memory.
Drowning, gasping, grasping for reality.
You spoke in whispers so carelessly once
And the song in my mind
Swallows me down to the depths,
To the haze of smoke,
Where all I hear is the engine
As you drive away again.

It’s beautiful the way they dance
Swaying with cheeks brushing together
A gentle caress here and there.
It’s calming, really.
Then they rally against the other,
Batting away, like drunken batterers.
Then the biting, the clawing
The yowls.
Eventually you get tired of
Watching them spat.
But what I wouldn’t give to see a video
Or still shots of what those little monsters
Do when no one is watching.
When you finally brave the living room,
They’re passed out, cuddled around each other
Purring in their sleep,
As if dreaming of pleasures
We didn’t get to witness.
My cats … are lesbians.

These razor blades in my head won’t let me sleep,
Won’t let me rest.
Each noise drives them deeper,
Further into the abyss of my mind
As they chip away my senses.
Lights like lasers cutting through
My eyes and I can’t see.
Each smell overwhelms me and
Sends my stomach into reels and fits.
How long until these meds kick in?
How long until the sun goes down?
How long until the laughter and the barking stops?
Oh, right.
I live with *** holes.
And I just have to get up and do this again tomorrow.
Grab another pill, another bottle of Aquafina.
Choke down some bland version of mashed potatoes.
Sleep. Breathe. Dream.

I’m looking for a slower kind of burn
A fire to keep me warm for longer
Something that will last throughout the chill
I need a fire to warm the cold,
The cold that’s snuck into my heart.
Not a fire that burns itself out quickly,
Not a lust that leaves me sated
A slow burn to last the night,
A slow fire to ward off the things of fright.
Give me that slow burn to get through
To get through the ice that’s holding me.

Oh, how the nightmares
Drown my dreams.
In every rest do I but see your face
And dream of a better place
Within the embrace of your knowing gaze.
Then, awake, with tired eyes
I find no dreamer by my side
Instead a space which none have filled,
A hole in which my spirit falls,
Nightmare, reality, how you drown my dreams!
And ***** out the secret hope I’ve locked inside.
If I could only control what my waking eyes see
And go about, awake, but as if in a dream.

Gravity*
             is making me
fall               too hard
                                    too fast
       to Catch                       myself
                          before       I
           *CRASH
                           into your
     heart,            into your
                                            Mind.
   Be careful or
                                I’ll leave
       you Blind.
                                     My fire’s
bright and burning
         Strong
              And still I
Know               it              won’t              be           Long
                                      before
I         Crash
    and          we          Collide
                      ­     and     I       abandon
     this
Foolish  Pride.

It’s hard to see straight
With stars in my eyes,
And hard to speak
With love on my lips,
It’s hard to breathe
When you’re stealing my breath.
And it’s hard to stand
When my knee’s simply shake
Your words, they disarm me
Your kiss is sublime.
You touch makes me shiver
In your arms, my lullaby.

And now the waves come crashing
That torrential ebb & flow
On the shore my life is thrashing
The story’s ending, unknown.
A hand’s reached out before me
Desperate in its advance
Bt death just seems so likely
And life’s a cruel romance.
Like music to a composer
I do just as I’m told
I reach as you drawn closer
Your heart brushes my soul
Your eyes promise new beginnings
The embrace, a story untold.
Fires burn with this new feeling
In your arms, I’ll never be cold.

These masochistic tendencies
Will never leave me whole,
Will only leave me empty,
Left mending a broken soul.

I see your face
In every dream,
In waking hours too.
I see your face,
Then hear your voice,
But know it isn't true.
I miss your eyes,
That sweet disguise
That drew me in so close.
I miss those eyes
That caused my tears
And made me fall the most.
I see your face
Behind my eyes
And then I feel ashamed.
I see your face
And tears flow down
Behind my mask; the pain.

Do you see my face
In every dream?
In waking hours, too?
Do you see my face,
Then hear my voice
And know I dream of you?

My demon’s always with me,
Feeding off my sin.
I look into the mirror
And she stares with her evil grin.
My demon’s getting hungry.
She wants to tear me down.
The only time she’s happy
Is when I’ve misplaced my crown.
My demon follows closely
Never giving me clean air,
Making me lose my reason
And forcing me not to care.
My demon’s always with me,
Look in my eyes, you’ll see,
The blackness deep inside me soul,
The light kept under lock and key.

"All is fair in love and war"
Or so the saying goes.
My stubborn heart that beats within
Thinks we'll never know.
Is it fair to turn away
And leave a lover cold?
Is it fair to keep heart at bay
And not let your love take hold?
To Captains and Generals
This saying is bold
And may hold true for some
But with matters of the heart
It must be told
That nothing's fair in love.

Let faith, hope and love,
These three,
Bind whatever powers be
And soothe the heart I cannot see.
Lend his broken soul to me.

Breathe in
Take a breath
Value life and
All thats left
Shake it off
Don’t fight for show
There’s nothing wrong
With letting go.

Shine on in darkness
Shine on in night
Shine on to keep
Them all in sight
Turn on the lamp
Don’t cover the light
We’ve got to keep
Them all in sight
Watch out behind
Hold on tight
Make sure you keep
Them all in sight
Take heed to me
You know I’m right
You know they’ll drag you
Out of sight
Don’t you dare doubt
Their severe might
They just might get you
In the dark of night

Look at me, beneath the light
Under the moon this starry night,
Tell me all the things you see,
Whisper my name and say you love me

Carry me when I find I’m lost
Hold on to me, regardless the cost.
Forget the tears that caress my face
Pull me close in your warm embrace.

Say I’m yours until we die
Share with me this starry sky.
Hold me close, don’t let me go,
And no more pain I’ll have to know.

I'm single.
And not that chill
Ready to mingle,
But that sitting at home
With my hand stuck in a can of Pringle's
Single.

My father once told me,
When all seemed well,
"Keep an eye on the sky
And an ear tuned to hell.”
Shuffle
For the Dealer above
May not find it hard
To throw down the deck
And let the cards
Shuffle
Deal their own hand
And let the Devil play,
With his fire and sulfur
And his drunken demon sway.
Shuffle
If drew from the cards
The man with his guns
And fire in his gaze
The Devil may run.
Shuffle
If the Dealer may wish it,
The Devil may linger
And play a hand of fate
Against a human Gunslinger.
**Shuffle

Though I wear no crown of decadent jewels pressed down around my brow,
It can be said that I am beautiful.
Needing no assistance from a mask of make-up and every hair doing as it pleases,
I am told that I am beautiful.
Without the burden of corsets, push-ups and garters; no cocktail dress draping my shoulders,
I look in the mirror and am satisfied.
I wear blue jeans, t-shirts and tank tops; tennis shoes, flip-flops and high-tops,
And still my legs are long and lean; my shape curvy and full.
And while I walk by, a southern sway in my step, you know you take more than a cursory glance.
I have attitude, and bluntness inherited from my line of honest folk.
I am country. I am bold. I am ruthless.
I am simple in the way that diamonds are simply compressed carbon.
I am beautiful in the way that only a southern girl can be.
I am a huntress with my 243 across my lap in a camo blind.
I am an actress as I smile and say “Bless your heart.”
I am a lover if there ever was one.
I am a fighter when the chips are down.
I am my father’s nightmare and my mother’s dream.
See me with my mut from the pound that’s better trained than your frou-frou, AKC registered pom-poo.
Join me as I sing the hymns my granny sang with the same tone and inflection.
I am educated with my poor country grammar I use only to spite those who think I’m ignorant.
I know more about tracking a blood trail than I do about propriety,
But I’m studied in the art of being couth.
My southern charm is mixed with brazen straight forwardness.
I am proud. I am American. I am beautiful.

For all those quiet types that sit and listen
To the world’s maddening, deafening roars
And still find time to dream.  
To all those shy, unstable poets dying to
Break free of the confines of verse and stanzas
And yearn for originality.
For those who refuse to take on an identity
Knowing that nothing is certain and
Ideas and creativity is a living thing in flux;
Forever moving, changing, and evolving.
For those that find silence beautiful
And feel no desire to spoil it with
Useless words but instead wait,
Give pause,
Breathe
Then reply with the softest tones
Of enlightenment; not of contempt, but of privilege.
For all those who are sure that all things
Will end, not with a roar breaking through the solitude,
But with a whisper carried across nations.
For those who revere the solemnity of the quiet
And have no urge to break free from it.
For those of us who know we are not bound by silence
But rather, by its absence.  
Where fools abound with spoken words
That fall flat against the black top.
For those who know it’s better to be quiet
And thought a fool than speak and leave no doubt.
This is for you, my brothers and sisters of silent acquiescence
To the cause of verbal restraint.
While it’s true we have every right to speak,
What good can come of uneducated speech laboring off an idiot’s tongue?
To drive others on like cattle in a common cause?
Better luck would be had in asking a befuddled bovine the cause it follows
Than inquiring the same of the herded masses of fools
Who were taught only enough to string words together for the most basic functions.
So to those who know the importance of
Silence, reverence and educated listening,
Spread the word,
But do so, not with a roar, but with a
Whisper.

Her eyes are clearest
When masked in tears
And light’s reflected in such a way
The truth cannot outrun the lens.
Clearly she can see
Through the shadow
Her sight passing through storm clouds
And her eyes remain the palest blue.
Understanding is not lost
In deepest despair.
She can see through the mask,
Both yours and her own.

I’m THAT girl.
I’m the girl sitting quietly in the corner,
Minding my own,  scribbling in a notebook
Or taking in the remaining chapters of my sci-fi book.
Maybe giving others a distracted look
A polite nod to keep them guessing.
I’m the girl with a slightly disheveled appearance.
His old transformers t-shirt, baggy jeans and a pair of chucks.
You may think, if you catch my eye, that luck
Is the last thing on my list of prized possessions
And you’d be right.
I’m Murphy’s law in action.
I’m THAT girl.
I’m the girl that can’t get him off my mind.
I’m the girl whose subconscious mind hates her.
He’s in my dreams and stalks my nightmares,
And all I can do is write
Write a miniature prison around his memory.
Write free verse that I hope catches his eye,
And I’m sure it doesn’t.
I’m sure he doesn’t have a positive thought of me
The way I think of him in the quiet spaces
Of my normal distracted being.
He calms me, he makes my heart race,
He makes me want to sleep, then chases me from a dream
Pitchfork in hand, slinging my bladed words like daggers.
I’m THAT girl.
The hopeless romantic and helpless cynic.
He made this poet, the cynic, the thinker.
I hope he looks in the mirror and sees
The creation he so meticulously molded
And turns away with his conscience disturbed.

Writing when I should be listening
Lost in translation from mind to ink.
This delicate poetry between the pages
These lacy images that make me think.

Bringing down the damaged walls
With words that seem to come alive.
This delicate poetry between the pages
Inspiring my disheartened soul to thrive.

I’m no great poet, whose lines can move
Another’s eyes to fill with tears
But this delicate poetry between the pages
Can speak for me beyond my years.

I have a wish, I have a dream,
As silly as they both may seem,
And if my wish would just come true,
I'd wish nothing but the best for you.
And waking from my dream, I'd find
You'd wished the same for me, in kind.

Oh, heart, thou art fickle!
And it seems that fickle frailty is catching;
Like a blazing wood, whose embers are caught
In cross winds, then spread to the next awaiting tree.
I am contagious, catching, infectious.
The CDC wouldn’t be equipped for the prowess
Of my unhindered virus that clings to everyone I caress.
Like a yawn in a kindergarten class,
I need but one chance to spread throughout the mass.
Come here. Let me embrace you.
Let me rest my hand on yours.
Let me pass this frailty on.
Let me test your immunity.
It’ll only take one test.
One kiss. That’s all.

Love is a drug.
It's a depressant, stimulant & hallucinagen.
Love is an anxiolytic & antipsychotic,
It's a mood stabilizer & antidepressant.
Love is the treatment for my instability.
So where is my ******-pharmacologist?
Where's my script for rose-colored glasses?
Doesn't he see that I need my Klonopin;
My Zoloft is running low.
My Haldol is depleted & my Adderal is out.
I'm shaking with anxiety
My depression's dragging my down
To the depths I just escaped.
I'm seeing things that shouldn't be.
And I'm running in circles, too afraid to stop.
Where is my ******-pharmacologist?
Why won't he give me my daily dose,
One simple touch to give me sanity?

Why the hell do we do this to ourselves?
I imagine the bottle being slide across the bar
Back and forth, back and forth
Between those long fingers and
That distant gaze you get when watching the game
But you aren’t really watching, are you?
What you’re trying not to let people see is
The reminiscent guise on your face
While you think that not too long ago
Someone was sitting next to you
Looking off into the distance with thoughts wavering
Between you and them.
Back and forth, back and forth.
But that’s the way it’s always been, hasn’t it?
A little give and a little take until the giving goes shy.
I miss the image I hold in my mind of you.
The mask you wore so keenly for others, but rarely for me.
I could see through the bottles and the cigarette smoke
Filling that dense bar on the main drag.
I could see through the fake smiles to hide the pain
Because I wore the same mask as you.
And now I hold in my mind and in my heart
The memories and unlike any before I cherish them.
I cherish those wonderfully silent moment shared
Where words were not necessary.
While my memories are merely dreams
Hiding in the shadows of my contemplative mind
I will still grasp for them in times like this
Where I look back and all I see is you
And all I hear is your voice filling my head with harsh realities.
You never were one to ******* me.
And so, even on a night like this when my heart is sallow and heavy
I close my eyes and reflect. Happy that my wish to forget you
So many times had not been granted.
Even as you’re the concrete latched to my legs
As I tread these cold waters, I am content.
Content to have known you and loved you.
Content to have shared something worth treading for,
Whether you see the shore for the breakers or not.

These words I have are far from perfect
And falling from this shattered mind
Onto this faulty canvas
Lined with contempt and bitter need
And still I search.
I search for words so powerful
And prowess laced,
Lined with beautifully embroidered imagery,
That you'd find yourself swayed
If ever so slightly.
You'd let those rigid rules collapse
And lie in rubble, carrying them no longer.
Emboldened by such moving motivations
That you'd need no Divine causations
For a full and fulfilled life.
No necessary God & Devil to paint
Your grayscale day to day.
You'd have only the colorful clarity
Found in Human imagery
And artistry to motivated enough.
These words I have are far from perfect,
With their creator being further still.

To be perfectly clear …
I’m a nut case.
Not only a nut case, but a hard-luck case
Wrapped up nice and neat
With Saran wrap of mental maladies
And bubble wrapped with faulty perceptions
And you know what?
It’s ******* comfortable in this box.
Relaxed is a side effect of anxiety,
Like having an ******, you get tense
Then that sweet release that leaves you
Melting into the mattress, that’s what my “disorder” does to me.
And while you sit and you stare and you judge and you blame
I … smile and wipe the sweat and tears from my face.
So, to be perfectly clear.
I’m nothing but a beautifully taped box
Of stress, anger, resentment and depression
With a slight mixture of joy and pride mixed in
Waiting to be shipped off
To anyone, anywhere, away from that gaze
Of unrestrained disdain.
And so, again, to be ever so clear.
I’m what you’d call emotionally unavailable,
Damaged goods, as I’m sure you can see
The dents my last handlers left behind for me
To bash out to regain a sense of normalcy,
Then you had to come along and reveal them all again.
Thanks for that. And sorry, but the person you are trying
So desperately to reach is Unavailable.
To be perfectly clear.