The Hallows
The Hollows
Like a pit inside a peach,
If you could see them
Resting peacefully together.
Like shifting sands in Hidalgo
Gradual rise and fall
The fall being:
A gradual graceful shape
At the bottom of the dune.
Where I can lay my head
and witness the winds whipping around me.
Blades, then part of skin which hammocks my cheek, Sandwiched by vertebrae.
I think I’ll take another bite.
And lay at the bottom of the dune
Aug 16, 2019
Aug 16, 2019 at 9:09 AM UTC
Emptiness Is
Palms covered in little crescents
Your fingernails digging in to distract you
From the fact that your ribs are a cage
Without a bird.
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
Dress me up just like a queen.
Make me so pretty.
Wear high heels.
Paint my nails.
In some pretty pink.
Make me look pretty.
But in the end.
I realize.
This isn't me.
Not who I'm supposed to be.
I put on jeans and a ugly shirt.
I paint my nails in some gruesome black.
Take off my heels and put on flats.
Just look at me.
I'm back.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
Dear God,
I'm sorry for my wrongdoings. I fail again and again. Well, there's a part of me that's sorry, and there's a part of me that's not. But you know.
You know every part.
You lurk on me like the shadows of the vultures as I sit here. This plateau gives way to the crumbling rock of a steep abyss leading to nowhere. A place wild; cruel; punishing.
Maybe it's not for humans. Maybe all this is not what you wanted.
I sit here on this flat plane of earth—sometimes in the center,
and sometimes teetering on the edge of the abyss, with tufts of dust wafting up from my legs as I sit down, like angels fluttering, yelling from a silent world,
Warning me away from here.
There are no war cries or flinging catapults. No horses screeching in pain. No iron weapons orbiting towards my skull.
Only the arid desert wind across my lips. So light, yet so heavy.
Augmenting the silence.
enveloping my solitary physical mold.
Highlighting the emptiness.
There's an entangled sense--
Sorrowful emptiness and peace. It hangs like an electrical charge. unbalanced.
My head hangs, eyes projected towards a pair of tan leather boots on a pair of feet that happen to be mine. The wind blows. My eyelids shut, feeling the sting of salt and soil.
My heart gives in like an imploding star, and the remains cave inward. Deep into the abyss
between my ribs. Deep into the warmth of the body that was once mine. I fold in on myself, and now rest.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
Coming home--wet and cold
With sore feet.
My insides match my outward appearance.
Peeling off my layers,
And collapsing into bed.
It hugs around so perfectly--(the bed)...
I embrace the sinking sensation. Sink, Sink,
Morph, Morph,
Decompose.
Peacefully.
It's no longer about me, and my separation from the rest of the world.
I don't have to feel the separateness
ever again.
It feels great
to feel insignificant.
Nothing unusual or confusing...
And nothing to be criticized.
Just the meldings of the world and who "I" am.
Disappearing and becoming re-birthed
Into a place of different feeling. A different kind of being.
. . .
...My insignificance is what makes me feel special sometimes.
. . . .
~I want to be tucked away~
~In everything that is quiet and kind.~
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
Inserted ear buds
Attempted confinement
Chained to misery.
My igloo of isolation with the computer doesn't hold well against
Winds of anxiety blowing torrents of stuff through my mind.
An arctic tundra of ravaged grass.
Long-necked lamp looms
Waiting anxiously for me and
Witnessing bouts of non-progress.
Perpetrators impregnate fleeting tranquility
Never wanting me to win
in my concentration.
--Bony bodies slipping under the crack in the door.
They are the Monkey Mind
I have to escape from.
Many.
Petty.
Fears.
This is the way my consciousness wages war.
Ripping itself apart
Defeating purpose
till there is none.
During battles,
Monkeys Rule It All.
At the end
I shall win.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 5:54 AM UTC
Blood rushed to my face.
Reminds me of hot steam rushing to the ceiling while I shower.
The child in me wanted to skitter away--like a wild, galloping colt tripping over its legs.
But the woman in me stayed, grounded by the hulking rock of my deep emotion.
...Just a small glance--
A sheepish grin
As I perceived it.
I liked the tenderness there.
Piercings below his lower lip accentuated the smile I witnessed.
The one that lit up my eyes,
It was the reflection of fire in a mirror.
The piercings were black-pegged snake bites
Blending in well on the face they adorned
Seeming
To invite me towards
The shy curves of
His dark lips
To explore them,
and the protruding presence of the metal that was so becoming of him.
Neither of us approached the other,
And this subtle exchange turned into our little secret:
A delicious,
Lovely,
Vulnerable,
****
Secret.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 11:49 PM UTC
Everything was dreary
...And bleak.
And my skin happened to look red and splotchy.
All I had wanted
Was to binge on coco flavanols and overdose on caffeine.
I hadn't moisturized my skin after my shower, or put cover up on while it was still moist and warm. My veneer had not been established.
I told myself it didn't matter..
But really this issue was the cultivation
The turning point of my day.
Then I put my face on.
The grey, somber mask turned to Lovely, Feminine Pink.
As I spread the beige cream across my complexion, I felt something shift; insidious.
I felt the ******* I had been enslaved to.
I had been the one
With no friends and no sellouts to lug around with the rest of her baggage.
I had been the one
Who gawked and sneered
At the self-medication of the lonely girls who looked oh-so attractive
With their gleaming, hair~framed faces
And popping eyes.
What have I become?
I now claim this self selling drug
As my own.
What does it mean? What does it say about me?
Even more importantly, what does it say about you, and your stand point?
Do you put your face on, or do you let your soul bubble out of the surface of your complection?
FACE
A FACE
A million faces, pretty ones.
It's time to face the place of natural grace and replace the superficial first impression we chase.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
* I am done crying
and death is my state.
To the fate of hollow cacti I can relate.
Surprising is this,
Since I thought the grim reeper
Would ooze out with the dew of my purging
Like mucus during a cold.
My spirit is a barren desert with nowhere to go.
There,
The Saguaro Cactus have
No choice
But to be rooted in the
Dusty dross of the land in the desert.
Laiden with thorns.
If they shed their tears, they die.*
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 1:47 AM UTC