when the sun goes down
behind the trees
and locks her shutters tight

the moon comes out
with silver keys
to open up the night

i never used to notice the months going by
the days would slide beneath me
seconds simply passed

but the pain started to become noticeable
it could not be measured
slowly and then quickly
it became an intangible mess
something so elusive i debated its existence
but it was certainly there

i could not measure it

and so now i count

i count the months since
the days until
the seconds that wait

and then the pain can be measured
and perhaps i can start to heal

that horrible empty feeling
where you search with a dead flashlight
stumbling in the dark
trying to fill a void
you do not realize exists
with hair dye and anxious texts
with checking and fantasizing
piling on more emptiness
until it consumes you

then one day
you smell the grass
open your eyes
and the darkness is overcome
with an obscene amount of sun
and birds that sing songs of security
and you no longer need to search
and rush
and check, check, check
instead you rest
and start to even
dare to live

to remember my body is mine
I wiggle my toes

to remember my brain is mine
I act on impulse

to remember my heart is mine
I choose to love

from time to time i peer out of
the steely cage bars
i run my fingers over
the rough and aged scars
allow myself to breathe
look around at my enclosure
try to effortlessly
keep my composure

everyone is trapped here
isn't it true?
everyone has a mess
they've stumbled into
but perhaps mine is bigger
not to be taken lightly
my room needing to be studied
daily and nightly

but that can't be true
for people have it worse!
they are truly caged
locked up for the worse
their damage so grave
never to be reversed

my room is quite nice
come to think of it
it is perfect and familiar
nothing to omit
for I built it myself
decorated it so
I’ve planted flowers here
and watched them grow

and so i sit
and sit
and sit

but my body is almost taken
the kind calm voice
on the verge of breaking
the shadows they scare
and it turns only to night
the panels so high
they block all that is bright

but the walls are comforting
with their height and all
i don't try to climb them
for what if I will fall
they are all i know
what's beyond them i fear
could it be better
than this place
I've come to know dear?

and if it is better
and i truly get out
leave this place
running pace
for a superior route
someone new will enter
move all my things
everything shifted
the thought of it stings
for things will be lost
when you move it around
better to keep it in place
all safe and sound

but in this space the lack of air
gets so severe
i do not wish to know
how long i’ve been here

Who would lock me up?
I wonder aloud
the answer looming
like a water soaked cloud

I try to pick the lock
bang on the doors
but it only gives my hands
blistering sores

In this moment of entrapment
I look around for help
but I am alone
unheard goes my yelp

as I throw my hands up
tired from defeat
the key lay on the floor
next to my very two feet

The bent legs
carelessly dangling out of the chair
as the ants come
whom she welcomes with open arms
Her voice would shake
and choke up
passionately when debating
the stubborn and beastly injustice
How her freckles
were spackled onto her nose
from hours spent
chasing the endless sun
Criss cross applesauce
spilt onto the lush grass
limbs bent at unattractive angles
a book filled with ambrosian letters
precariously teetering
the tightrope of her kneecap
Makeup and artificiality
was foreign to her,
alien intruders,
the only known home
provided by the trees and birds
sheltered by the blithely positioned cloud
And the Spirit,
the Spirit that yearns to join the ladybug
dive deep deep deep
into the clear chalice of water
accompanied by airy eagles
To run until her chest aches
capacious lungs gasping
Along with the Soul
the Soul that clings to those she loves
cries over the blissfulness of the dove
is sickened by the smell of new leather
and patiently listens to the water in the drain

all of these make the divine feminine.

I watch as you
peer in
time to time
run careful fingers
over your face
whilst the rest of the world
has shaky hands

I watch as you
dance freely
door sealed
as the dulcet spirit
of the unwatched
occupies your soul

I watch as you
cry
tears so vile
they uproot you
tear you down
crestfallen ruins on the carpet

I watch as you
laugh the laugh
of the effusive seven year old
frivolously swaying
in the unserious grass

I watch as you
talk into me
criticizing the psyche
feeding the fastidious voice
that fills the gaunt hollows
of your being

I watch as you
return to mother
embracing together
the worn and niche blanket
who is molded
to your infantile shape
effacing all that is dishonest

I watch as you
stare intently
into the esoteric
eyes of your own
overanalyzing until the dark of the pupil
and grey of the iris
turn murky and lost

and then I watch

as the seven year old dies
along with the dancing
and laughter
as anguish assumes its position
dead center
in front of me

how I wish I could reach out
place a soothing hand
over the grey eyes
and say “it is better not to see”
placate the pain
recall the sturdy roots
only formed by relentless wind
remind you of the balmily warm blanket
and caring mother

oh,
how I wish

but alas,
as you fall apart
I can only do what I have always done

I watch.