lost boy where do you go
when the sun is hiding
lost boy
you say your'e alone
but you aren't willing to let your fear go
lost boy
i hope you know that i will be here
and won't let go
lost boy
i see the black crow
latched onto your weakened soul
lost boy
that crow he tells you so
that if you go no one will know
oh
lost boy
i hate that crow

open

the lights flash

close

all is cool

open

make it stop

close

the clock tick tocks

not many people have seen me cry
fragmented and undone
but sometimes when the war seems to much
the side that is tears
has won

your touch is like moss
cool and soft
evergreen and careful

but i am magma
sharp justting stones
and barbed wire fences

how is it that you voice flows like water
while mine is in all caps

But his FIRE GIRL was

g            n

      o                e ...

He tried to fill her with life......

MONSTER BOY wept

                                      So h a  r  d

his heart valve went and

                                                                                                     B u r s t

His FIRE GIRL turned to

                                           Ash her spark was all but

                                                                                                 G

                                                                                                 O

                                                                                        N

                                                                                        E

For the MONSTER BOY

Thought it would make his own s o u l

Cleaner

The monster boy ATE her soul

And tore her I  n  t  o

                           Pieces

There was a fire in her eyes









But then she met the MONSTER BOY









And that fire

D

I

E

D

the orchids have withered
the heat is here
and much like the orchid '
i have too much to bare

my skin burns at the thought of your fingertips
molten lava inside my veins
parched lips wanting you...

no matter how hard i try

how many times i wash my hands

how many times i check the expiration date

how many times i knock on wood

                    five times five

repeat

                    five times five

repeat

                    five times five

repeat

                five times five
          
                             five times five...

the bed feels like an ocean
your body writhes upon it

giant squid tentacles
winding up from the inky depths

locking around your ankle
rendering the limb useless
an anchor in your dreams

dreams of masked figures
with nets bottling your hopes
and dreams

for their own sick pleasures
put on shelves and made
into a roadside freak show

words like venom
and jeering laughter
nigh time dreamers chained in reality

differences scorned upon
physical or mental

cries of upheaval and revolution
from those that are followed by the
black dog

those that are like rag dolls
trapped in the shell that is
their body
unable to lift their heads

the smothering and stifling cloak
of panic worn by those who suffer anxiety

the grey storm cloud of acid rain
and icy bullets
hovering over the depressed

they are not broken
only flawed

in this world
today
no one is without flaws

insecurities and fear
keep our mouths shut
locked with heavy iron padlocks

weighing the wearer down

if only your watercolour
could stain my hands

a residual mark
of the love that we could share

but all i'm left to do
is dream of something

that isn't there

the watercolour bleeding
into acrylic vermillion paint

the brush strokes of our lives
blending to create

a beautiful piece of art
made by our own two hands

I study the curvature of your spine
and the lines of your body

glances that last no more than a
couple of seconds

glances that are unbeknownst to you
fighting the internal battle

I have two armies

ready for all out war
red versus blue

heart versus mind
their bullets leave

holes in my soul
healing only to

be re opened again
for you are a

warrior of your own kind
weathered down by the

corrosive waters that
we call life

you have two stones on
your shoulders

and a library of books
resting on your spine

and i want to carry them
for you

because darling you are a
beautiful rose

with thorns like two sided
blades

made to keep people out
and to keep you inside

the prison you call your
mind

unable to prune those thorns
i can only study

the ever growing shadows
under your eyes

and the dryness of
your lips

you built a plaster cast
over your most vulnerable parts

waiting for the person
who will fight the pain

of pruning your thorns
for darling

you are a shell of what
you once were

and all i can do is watch
you recede into yourself

She walked on coals to feel the warmth, the warmth that had been stolen from her soul. Flint against steel, sparks dying . Burnt fingertips and blistered skin.

Then she found the one to build up her fire, the one who had the power to produce flames through their hands. Igniting the spots their fingertips touched.

But then the fire was gone, stolen heat burning her from the inside out. Stifling heat overtaking her mind and soul.

Too much to bear, she extinguished her flame. Only ash, no more burns.

No more kindling.

Your pink mouth screaming at me to get out, my ragged breaths as I ran up the stairs.

Why oh why did God make me this way if I was a mistake?

My aching heart drags my heavy feet onward, the rain soaks my already numb body.

Why was I born this way?

The lit up building like a beacon, a smiling face a listening ear.

They tell me i'm not broken or weird, they tell me that I am normal and that there are others like me.

They are a samaritan on a dirt road that seems as if it will lead to nowhere, picking me up from the ditch that is my soul.

It's on the first day I meet them, just like me they too feel like they're  in the wrong shell.

I tell them that I am a snake wanting to shed my skin but the angry and hurtful words glue my skin onto my too loud skeleton like a cocoon.

They offer words of support and a welcome environment, they are like the family that I and many others never had.

It is after my first month there that I get a job, a job that can help me on my journey. It is also here that they call me by my true name.

My mind and body are making a peace treaty, an alliance of my sanity. I learn to love ‘me’.

No longer a he and now a she.

      I am finally free to be me.

           Love and faith are the keys.

               For I am finally free

I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.
I wonder about the stars, burning meteorites that are slowly sizzling out.
I hear the clock, a sound of wasted moments in time tick, tick, ticking.
I see the good in people no matter whom; human beings do things for a reason wether its love, fear or safety.
I want to feel comfortable in my skin and for my brain to be able to come up for air.
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.

I pretend to stay calm while inside my mind the whirring windmill keeps turning.
I feel the need to be like a flower opening myself up to the suns positivity and blocking out the negatives.
I touch the little bird nestled in my chest urging it to fly to freedom.
I worry for events that may never happen riding the wave of panic until it dwindles.
I cry for moments where I didn’t take the leap, times of fear that limited me.
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.

I understand that it won’t always be ok and that during these times the little bird may falter.
I say that it’s going to be alright and that this moment shall pass.
I dream of the day the little bird finds its wings, finally taking flight.
I try to inspire others, teaching them to find their inner birds.
I hope to someday inspire others, to make a world of birds free to fly.
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.

little girl wants a monster truck
little boy wants a fairy doll
forbidden
little girl wants to be a boy
little boy wants to be a girl
doors closed and eyes closed
wishing for a brighter tomorrow
closet doors creaking open
light shining in
closet doors jammed open