I am both flames and snowflakes.


I'll explode into sparks then I'll calm down like the falling snow.  

I will challenge your comfort zone, but I'll fight to stay in mine.  

I will feel fire in my heart when I am passionate or angry,

I will feel a blizzard when I am curious or afraid.

I will always rise, even if I fall.

I will roar louder than the mighty lion or slither quieter than the sly snake.

I will forgive without thought, or I will wear revenge with grace.

I will become completely attached to you, or leave without thought.

I will tear my barriers apart or build garden gates.

I will be bold, or I will never speak.

I will authentically be myself, or what I need to become.



I am simple, I depend on you.

Depression
"It's not real."
"It's all up to you how you feel."
"You're so problematic."
They're all wrong.
Depression is real.
As real as you.
As real as me.
As real as the thing you love the most.
Depression doesn't make you sad.
It makes you afraid.
Of happiness.
Of sadness.
It makes you tired of feeling.
I'm tired of feeling.
I'm tired.

And that is your niche I told her.
Finding all things lost.
If I were to swallow ten thousand puzzle pieces.
Each belonging to a different size.
A different color.
No matter how I hide them.
I have perfect faith that you will find each piece.
That's just what you do.
There is no hiding any part of me.
With the slightest look.
The slightest word.
You immediately know what's on my mind
and I love it.
Arranging my every thought to where you see best.
It's really a no brainer
Finding where I belong

This is a poem
about another
solitary shift.

There is tension
in my sore shoulders,
and a tender tightness
in my right knee joint.

The dark sky brings
the trifecta of
three rainbow hallow
having light bulbs
blazing.

Less than a quarter
of a block’s distance
is a pair of lights
that pierces the night
like irritated eyes
peevishly peering
out at the parking lot’s clearing
while pouting petulantly.

Near night’s end
I walk and listen
to the sound of the wind
moving through
the select few
scattered trees
that surround me.

The orange’s juice drips
on my dry cracked lips
while the sun
spreads its orange
glazed glory
across the dark morning sky,
a catharsis of narcissi’s sweetness.

Flags up
and then I am off
fleeing from
the forming day,
and going home
so, I can sleep
the rest of the
daylight away.