When two pillars of freedom
crashed down in a torrent
of smoke and ash and bodies,
when those planes glided
upon the River Styx
crashing into
her friend, his wife,
their sister, my daughter,
when all the world chocked
on the breath they could not swallow
Don't you think her husband
was making tea with two sugars
which he spilled a moment later?
And then cursing that he would
be late to work, finally turned on the TV.
As he watched his dove fly up into heaven
He let the tea sink into his bones.
And years later he would laugh
with a cynical choke saying how
he never knew that life could still happen
when life stopped happening.
For when Icarus fell from the sky
Don't you think there was a ship
Passing idly by
Not noticing the boy
who drowned seconds before
he passed that spot
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
She once sat on her mother's lap
Teething white lilies
I stayed far away
Years past and she crushed pills on teeth
Mouth bleeding from thorns of white roses
I waited at her door
She sat on lust tainted sheets
Cutting the white rose from its stem
I sat on her shoulder
She hung from the ceiling
The thorns 'round her neck
I was enclosed in her mouth
She lays now in cedar wood
White lilies rooting in her brain and
blossoming through her spirit
I could not get to her through the dirt
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 2:39 AM UTC
If death be a crown,
She wanted to drown in royal blood
A black sword with a trigger hilt
Was there to knight her
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Tick tock, tick tock
Kissing the ground, helpless
Tick tock, tick tock
Running, jumping, flying, endless
Tick tock
Sleeping, falling, dying, restless
Tick
Kissing the ground again
Tock
Going to see my friends
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
Many scars ago she tied a cherry red balloon to her wrist
A free-floating, lightweight balloon.
It made her happy.
But her hand started to turn blue
Because it was strung too tightly,
So she cut it from her wrist and watched it go.
When she was thirteen,
She gripped a magazine tightly between two cherry red nails
As if it were the Bible
To the world she got ****** in to.
"Will I be beautiful?"
She asked artfully synthetic faces
Painted on a canvas of bright and glossy paper
"Yes" they would say with cherry red lips
Teeth clenched and plastered smiles
"Will I be gorgeous? Will I be wanted?"
"Will I be pretty?"
She asked her mother
With a thirsty tongue
"No" her mother said
"You will not be defined by two syllables
And one word"
"Don't you see the balloon you have tied around your own neck?
It is strung around your heart.
It seems beautiful now
But it closes tighter each day."
Even as she heard this, it was with crafted ears
Her mother searched for personality in her eyes
But they too were emblazed with the cherry red
Her blindness made her unaware of the blue
That started in her fingertips and ended in her toes
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC