this morning i caught a familiar smell
smoke of the end of the world
the brief burst of space of time
i am required to fill quickly
it dries up just as fast
builds into a crux
coming to this point
my final delivery
ready as tinder
am i surprised to see a flame
lapping, curling at the edges?
no..i've been expecting it
soon every word here
i've picked and stitched
with their roots and stems
must be thrown into the fire
their black ashes are needed
after they cooled
returned to the soils
and room for the next stanza's chance
to take hold and grow
a forest burns itself to the ground
no one other than myself
or dare understand
the full extreme
and beauty of it
when I was a young kid there was no room in our house so I had to sleep in the crawlspace above the house
It was winter and the crawlspace was uninsulated and there was
a small old space heater from the 1970’s that didn’t do anything
unless you were right up next to it.
Sometimes I would get up
next to it
and the sleeping bag would start to burn on the edges
I’d wake up and move away from it because it would burn
the sleeping bag.
One night it was very cold but I didn’t turn on
the heater because I didn’t want to melt a giant hole in the
sleeping bag for good and maybe burn myself. That night
while I was sleeping a brown recluse spider bit me on the hip.
It mustv crawled in to the sleeping
bag with me because it was cold
The next morning the bite had swollen
up like half a golf ball and in the middle was
a sort of purple spot where the skin was most affected by
necrosis and that spot
already looked like it wanted to let
out all the pus inside. I knew that there was pus inside
because it had swollen so much and sort of felt solid but
squishy. I didn’t do anything about it that day
because I didn’t know what kind of a bite it was.
The next night
was very cold because it was early february but I didn’t want to
melt my sleeping bag again. The temperature gauge in the crawl
space said it was 34 because some of the heat from the
house did leak in to the crawlspace because it was uninsulated.
I had lots of clothes on but only had a pair of baggy
jeans and my legs were bare under that. That night the
same spider must have crawled in to the sleeping bag
up my pants leg. The next morning the bite from two
nights before had gone to hell because I hadn’t done
anything to treat it right away and I had rolled on to
it the next night and it had turned yellow and purple
and the skin on the whole area was necrotic but on top
of the first bite was a second bite that had started to swell
up as well. I thought this was funny because I was young
and nasty stuff is funny when you’re young.
I sort of squeezed at the fleshy mass and a bit of
liquid came out but not a whole lot of liquid.
There was obviously an obstruction. So I took
a metal needle and heated it up with a lighter to
make it easier to pierce the skin. When it
was red hot I pushed right in to
the top of the hole where the purple was and
it started letting out little bits of pus. I wasn’t
satisfied with the amount it was producin
g but since the hole from the needle went in really deep
I figured a lot more would come out if I pushed on
either side of the lump. At first there was mostly
light red blood and some white pus that was watery
and it sort of ran out. No matter how hard
I pushed it only a little bit of puss would come out.
I left it alone but came back to it later on and by
this time a scab had formed over the top of the hole
. I ripped this off and continued to push on to the
sides of the lump which by this time had lost some
of its original form because the skin was dead
on and around the lump. It had caved in like little
indentations of my fingers where I had pressed
but no liquid came out. The second bite had taken
care of any skin on the first bite that might have
missed the necrosis and even it had its own little lump
coming out of the first. My entire leg was sore
because the muscle tissue was necrotic deep down.
By the next day the skin had died and changed in such a
way I never thought I would ever see a part of myself.
It had turned a dark yellow and the purple was a
solid purple that didn’t mix with the yellow. As
I scratched at it, the skin peeled off in layers and
I kept scratching at the skin and it kept peeling off.
It got to a point where I knew I could just bust
the whole thing open if I really squeezed at it and
it all just came out. The blood in the middle
was blackish and the pus was thick and lumpy
like oatmeal. There was lots and lots of it in there.
After that the spider bit me again on the same hip
but about a month later. By this time the first bites
had healed to an indented scar where the skin had healed
but not come back. The third bite wasn’t as bad as the first
but it still died and rotted away like the first.
Spiders are ok because they don’
t bite people who didn’t have it coming. As much as I’d like to
think I could have prevented that from happening I would gladly let the spider in to my sleeping bag again
if it was cold but with no guarantee I wouldn’t roll on to it and I say this with warm feelings.
You're never coming back
It all ended just like the movies
You were the main character
She was your leading lady
I was the obstacle you had to overcome
And you rode off into the sunset with her
And I was hurt and alone
The way it was meant to be
You never see the antagonists ever after
A lost soul searching for its counter part
Amidst the heavy morning fog, I gaze out into what seems like an endless haze, just waiting.
Waiting for my better half
Wondering why not me?
Countless romances ending in despair
Excuse after excuse as to why our spirits arent meant to be
It leaves me asking myself why?
Leaves me wondering,
Why not me?
I've been told that chemistry is easy, but timing is the hard part
But why is this so?
If our paths cross and chemistry ensues how is this timing not right?
How is this timing anything but perfect?
For it takes perfect timing, perfect chemistry, and a perfect match for sparks to ignite
So please do tell how our timing was nothing but perfect
Why not me?
Poor timing is an age old excuse, but we have all the time in the world
A whole life full
For what is poor timing compared to an eternity?
If I can find the patience to give to you then time will never be an issue
For I can find patience for perfection
I can find patience for you
So now tell me, excuses set aside
Tell me really,
Why not me?
Why won't you let me give you my all?
Why won't you let love warm your heart?
Why won't you let yourself be happy?
Why not with me?
this oppressive fatigue
pushing, blanketing my consciousness
watching as numbers swim into ink that
bleed all over the page
and daydreams turn into nightmares
and love is as transparent as fragile glass
when balance is balancing on a tiny pill
and the headaches don't come and go
but swell and retreat
never really there, never really gone
just as you are
never really there, never really gone
I stay as still and silent as possible
but I am
running, screaming down the hallway
tearing at the demons pounding on my temples
crying big salty tears
that soak my face and are lost somewhere
in the atmosphere
I know and have known what it's like
to drown for
and still be alive.
Lay next to me star into the abyss/
Hearing you breathing a heart beat I did not miss/
Just relax babe while I set the record okay the hits/
Drift away lay away they stay away we have our fits/
Tell me about your family when was the last time you saw your little sis?/
You cock your shotgun skirt lift your shirt and blow me to bits/
Putting our clothes back on you look at me, make it clear you're still a wicked witch/
You are the cigarette
I have every morning
The taste still lingering on my lips.
Just like the cigarette you hurt me slowly
Corrupting my lungs
And blackening my throat.
But you are worse than a cigarette
Because they only kill me if i light them
Where as you,
Rot the air in my lungs
And steal my oxygen.
It snowed all day today
First snow of the season
From the time I woke up to the moment I went to bed
The snow was so powdery
All there was, was glitter in the air
You see, I still want to tell you about my day
Because there are people that come in our lives
And they mean so much it doesn't make any sense
But they do.
I find myself still writing for you
Even though you don't want me to
But after a hundred poems it's hard to stop
My word's seem to come easy when I'm hurting
Often though, angry words are not meant
And actions are unfairly judged just through words
I'm not trying to get back what we had
But no one should feel not good enough.
We may accept the love we think we deserve
But often we deserve far more than we think.
And hush, you did. You do.
I keep checking in on you to make sure you're okay
And it kills me to know that you're not
What you consider flaws are simply the
Little quirks I saw back on your porch that made me smile
I hope you live; that you are more than just alive
Because I know you are a good person
Who deserves all the happiness and love in the world
And I would have gladly spent
The rest of my life proving it to you
Someone can't go from being the center of your world
Straight to nothing over night
I too, still think about you always ...
It's only been a week...
its the difference between separation and anxiety
that breath taken and the stars you see
my head spinning and the scars they bleed
hands with trees and parts for thieves
taking more of our wants notta needs
deceive and leave before our guilt does freeze
precede to do what our greed internal feeds
triggers the fingers that only haunt our sleep
it treats the feet as stumps
smiles flip flop and fronts
drugs snorted huffed and blunts
man thats just the story of my month
mouth cancer after spliffs with lunch
abdominal six pack or beer crunch
i can stop taking all the medicine that is you
an addiction that i didnt ever see before it grew
would only humility the few
and flew beyond more then his backyard or stoop
Do you find yourself wandering through the desert of life
Searching for an oasis of truth
A safe place to stop and rest for a while
To gather enough strength to carry you through
Do you find hope, in this middle of nowhere
Or do you let the ache eat you every step you take?
Can you smile, when even though you remember,
the wounds you created by your own,
on the beautiful surface of your skin?
Are you capable to hold the tears back,
from streaming down,
when all you feel is the heavy weight in you chest,
scaring your heart,
at every beat of it?
When off in the distance you see what appears to be
A mirage of your own making
You take out your scared heart before it falls apart
And head in that direction for safety
But alas, it's just an illusion
A figment of imagination in your mind
What you thought of as paradise
Was the reality of the times
My heart isn't as cold,
My soul isn't as dark,
Now that I feel belonged,
to this paradise,
I only feel infinite