When will I wake up and say,
I am proud to start anew?

The Great Creator Sat, Smiling Solemnly,
As He Molded A Soul From River Clay,
He Took In A Deep Breath As He Plucked A Ray,
From The Sun Nearest To Our World,
He Gently Placed It Inside The Earthenware,
Giving It Life--Giving It A Smile

The Great Creator Sat, Pondering It's Housing,
The Soul Sparkled As It Awaited It's Home,
Awaited It's Time To Prosper,
The Great One Took Two Feathers From The Bird,
Who Calls, "Jay", And Placed Those Pale Blue
Feathers Upon The Irises The Soul Would Wear,
He Peered Into The Sea, And Found The Richest,
Darkened Blue Hues Which He Placed Onto The Eyes

The Great Creator Looked In The Most Beautiful Garden,
And Plucked Two Rose Petals, The Palest Pinks,
Then Placed Them As Thin Lips Upon The Face,
He Selected The Golden-Brown Hues Of Wheat,
For The Skin Of Which The Soul Would Wear,
And He Found The Blackest Of The Night Skies,
And Molded It Into Hair

The Great Creator Sculpted The Housing From Granite,
Wrapping It Around The Soul,
He Then Put On The Finishing Touches And Sent The Soul To Earth,
Yet The Soul Did Not Feel At Home,
Therefor,
That Is Why The Great Creator Gave Him,
A Baby Girl

we are chromatic
unmarred godlike images
cast through a prism

she has emerald eyes
hands soft as a satin scarf
a cute high-pitched laugh
horizontal scars on wrists
and serves coffee with a smile

dissociation a curse
dissociation my enemy
enemy barges in
enemy takes control
control is crippling
control must go
go seek advise
go to friends
friends may ignore
friends may listen
listen to god
listen to nothing
nothing is something
nothing is numbing
numbing craves alcohol
numbing craves drugs
drugs are prescribed  
drugs will fix
fix my brain
fix cracked mirrors
mirrors taunt me
mirrors tell lies
lies i tell
lies cover bruise
bruise my hand
bruise my brother
brother is silent
brother please forgive
forgive me father
forgive me mother
father please help
father is futile
futile defines me
futile invites suicide
suicide with pills
suicide i survived
survived from coma
survived in hospital
hospital is helpful
hospital gives answers
answers for family
answers to problems
problems with doctors
problems with diagnosis
diagnosis is discovered
diagnosis is depersonalization
depersonalization creates poet
depresonalization becomes mad

mad
poet

so exercise is the logical conclusion.
illogically, my matted lack-of-a-
shower and my swollen lymph
node to the point of painful
swallows speak nothing in
the way of 'yes' or 'no.'
At this point,
I'm just lonely and jealous of the worlds
'okay,' and can't be bothered with little
touchies like- oh, perhaps she meant it?
we meant it, by any measure. concussive
doubts rain on my soul like laughter,
intention; lymph node aches as I chew.
time to call a doctor. time to call a dr.

In South America, truck drivers are paid collossal amounts
of money, to deliver supplies between towns on
roads, no wider than the width of their trucks.

When you turned up on my doorstep that sunday in the rain,
your eyes told me before your lips did.

Sixty three hundred days is a long long time to wait for someone,
but I would do it all over again,
if it meant I could fall asleep in your arms one last time.

Next Autumn when the leaves turn rusty and fall from the trees,
I'll remember the afternoon we spent in Victoria park,
where you waded to the middle of the duckpond,
just because I said you wouldn't.

Your mother always told me when we stacked away the good china after Sunday lunch,
that your stubborness always got in the way of what was right.

You've been gone eight hours and still nobodies reminded me how difficult I can be at times.

Eight months later and everytime the phone rings I imagine your voice crackling down the line "come get me from the supermarket, I have sugar buns. "

the scattered letters i know,
i turn into words
the thoughts floating in my mind
i turn into poetry
when vague, it becomes prose
when i can, i turn them into song

but, at all times—
they never reach you.

Come spring, she loves and hopes, words tripping off her tongue like sonnets.

Come summer, her smile lights skies. Melodic tones drift as she does, skipping at her heels.

Come autumn, she is content. Memories consume her; could anything be so real as this?

Come winter, and she is tired. Alone yet dependent, she can't wait to get back to rest

and not return.

The Purple Veils Of Twilight Slithered Into The Sky,
Over The Sleek Surface Of The Stream Stars Tango,
Nighttime Prayers Skim Whisps Of Navy Clouds,
In The Reflection Of His Eyes I Found Myself,
Gracious I Let His Soul Sing Me A Sacred Lullaby,
Holding On Tight To Every Word I Wished To Say,
To Every Single Bit Of Beauty I Relished In The Stars

I** Soulfully Sang To The Robins Song At Dusk As The,
Moon Slowly Arose From It's Daytime Slumber

Fields Of Dreams Spread Before Me, As I Slept,
Reminiscing In A World Of Beauty As The,
Evergreens Whispered In My Sleepy Ear, One Last,
Evening Melody, One Last Evening Prayer