She walked on tiptoes around the
house and
bounced a few times and
spun like a ballerina
and sang, "Today I don't wanna diiIiIIie."

It was rare for her
but he sure
was glad to see it. Glad and now
a bit anxious
not to do something that would
disrupt her
happiness. It could be anything really

She grabbed a towel and wrapped
it around his neck
to bring his body closer to hers
and said, "Let's open a wine
bottle and make love."

He smiled and nodded
and instinctively brought a hand to
his head to feel the
scab from the last opened bottle of
wine

same thing
After a painful breakup
she would
have her sister over
for some ******* drinking
and nasty chatting

Usually
there would be a little over
ten shots of tequila
with salt and no lemon
that brought along their favorite
story

"When I told you to
lie down on the carpet," her sister
said, "and I brought the
dog over you and ******
him off in
your hair."

"Crazy *****."

"No, it was funny! It was funnier when
dad saw you with
that **** stuck in your hair and
your collar and he
beat up our babysitter's boyfriend who
visited that day. Hahahahaha!"

"Poor ******..."

"Yeah. Him dying in the
hospital put daddy
behind bars, you know?"

"I know."

"And then it was all heaven for us."

"It was?"

"Duh. We were free to
go out with guys then. Mom didn't mind. She
had her own."

"Yeah, I guess
life was
pretty nice to us..."

Will you love me still
when my flesh has fallen to rot?
Will you love me
when decay has taken my form,
and fed my flesh
to a grave full of worms?
Or should I slow the
gangrenous bubbling of my skin?
Will you love the ivory perfection
of my bones, sweet one,
so like the grasping branches
of a dead tree...?
Will you still lie by my side,
our flesh rotting together,
the roots of a tree twining through
our ribcages?
Will you still love me,
love me dead?

-
When the screams are silent
And the illusion’s louder
But in a fleeting moment
Reality finally broke in
Causing the facade of
Illusion to collapse
Without warnings.
One could find oneself
Fighting within
To confront the unacceptable
Truth , that
My life is fading away
Right before my eyes and
With few remaining hopes.
And lately as my legs collapsing
Fallen from underneath me
Like my hair during chemo
I’ve felt just how much
I have been holding
Onto fear,  despite living from
My heart, from the light.
Despite telling myself
Not to given into the dark side
Of this journey,
Despite my attempts trying
To convince my mind
My body and my soul
That I have let go of all fears
Convincing myself that I was
Like a great magician and that
I can make all illnesses disappear,
By operating from a place of light
Like the moon, my mentor.
Sometimes having to create
A psychological cage
In my head ,
To keep my thoughts
From wandering and wander
From my canvas of illusion.
Until, recently all has flushed away.
But truth remains
One would never know
Unless I unfold
The rough drawings
Of my life sketchbook,
To even notice my pain
My sufferance In
Between the lines.
Because in my head
Like a great artist
I decide what I paint
I decide what you see
I decide what I believe
I am, I am
A imperfect artist
Who has painted a self portrait
Full of light
Full of hope
So amazingly bright and surprisingly good enough
For even the world's greatest art critique
To notice my cracks on the white canvas.

here, time is a truck
with waxed wheels. but it
keeps pacing, keeps paving the path
to destruction; in dreams, I pluck

myself from its sheath, let it sweep
over me like a tide; on the
ground, I gather my garments,
as stones and seashells, slip

into their ethers, where eternity
waits. here, pyramids don’t converge
as they taper; they tunnel
like a lair that has lost its lucidity

& I’m wandering within their walls,
clueless, clouded—a captive child
eager to escape into enlightenment,
or another dream, where bliss befalls.

this is a paper-dream gobbling
reality—down to its
bone, bruised bare & bleeding.