i love all of the words
that are not mine
just as i love all of the people
whom i can never have

i am a cycle of paradoxes
contradictory and scared
i repair the things
that should be left to crumble
and i destroy the things
that were meant to stand

i apologize when i dont mean it
im sorry
(no im not)
the eighth deadly sin twice removed
i have no place

sometimes breathing
is an emotional struggle
so do not send me onto the warpath
because eventually i wont know
if im looking to **** you or myself

im flammable
so dont use your words as gasoline
because you will burn with me

You see the man first
Your head above your plate,
The fork and the spoon
In your hands.
You skipped the prayer of thanks,
Or to even pause a second
To see what you had been served,
Even before the server could leave
You had your first bite through
And you could not tell how it tastes.
"You were to escape"
You used to say,
"Escape what" now you question.
Silence flows through you like blood
Must have on that man's face,
If you were courageous enough
You could have counted the slaps
That man had placed.
Instead you paused and stared
Too many answers in you mind
On how there were no words
But you skipped the right question.
You heard the fire,
You heard the structure falling
And you saw the crowd gathering.
There was so much you should do
So little you could
But you skipped your rule
And sat there the way through.
Years of rebellion
And years of righteousness
Washed in that moment of cowardice.
You sat there all
Just staring and answering
The questions you couldn't ask.

Do you remember what you suggested?
You suggested to walk away
To make the man realize his wrong ways
But silly you,
Why are you so much of a coward ,
I doubt
It was simply you running away.
For the thought you skipped to act
Was walking to the man
And holding back his fist
But you so had it all skipped.
You sat there,
A silent prayer running through your mind
Couldn't you tell,
You are no help to the world,
What were you doing there?

And so here you are
The sad, pitiful part
You worried about not having answers,
Silly you,
Now you pace
With answers alone
You decided to skip the questions.

Answer-
You can either comment on the fire
Or ignore the smoke all together
But you do nothing
To douse the flames
You skipped the

When he looked into her eyes, his eyes were soft.
I could only see love in his eyes.
Even if he had only looked at her for a moment, I could tell that he loved her.
She was sleeping.
It was sweet, even if she wasn't awake and she would never know this moment happened.
He knew he had looked into her eyes, he knew he loved her.
These moments are the moments that are the most sweet, these are the moments that keep them going, that keep them together.

It's like she's ADDICTED to the PAIN,
He fronts like he's SO GREAT
Then suddenly,
She's being EMOTIONALLY DRAINED...
That CLOWN is so FAKE
He shouldn't be,
Stealing all her LOVE in the RAIN
Projecting his ANGER and HATE
Indifferently...

I met an insomniac through a Craigslist post

Who alleged: She’d stolen > 2000 hearts

On subways/escalators/sidewalks – men turn to toast

(By her gorgon glance, she boasts, even testicles depart) .

How does one ensnare one fashioned of nails and sap?

By invisibility, mirrored shield, winged boots, curved sword?

The heart’s armor, thus arrayed, can easily entrap

This goddess, dreadlocked in her own umbilical cord.

But I do not stoop to conquer, but to please

This walking paradox, over-caffeinated, old soul

Intoxicated by words, music, auteurs (esp. Scorsese) ,

You’re my aurora, glowing green, in the north celestial pole.

Slacker, artist, writer, words have escaped you:

You lay breathless at the foot of your wandering Jew.

by Beryl Dov

The day has been heavy.
Deciding to release low energy.
The winds came in and swept them away.
Temporarily made it hard to hear my voice.
It continues to tell me,
Go for what you desire.

As a child my home was confusing.
The love taught there was temperamental,
I had to accept love that felt thin.
Now I can embrace the immature love
I was raised in, and it's why I felt
Ready to leave home.
And I am not ready to go back.
I've preferred cultivating my own love,
One based on interdependence.

And nourishment.
This is the love I desire.
I know now this is what relating is,
And nourished sometimes looks thin.
Though I have been working out,
My muscles feel stronger and I am
Ready to try something different.

Today,  I feel a sadness.
I know I must create space.
I know nourishing energy is not here.
Friendships continue naturally,
I love you.
I just need my energy.
This is a lesson, indeed.
And I wish it were different.
Though going forward,
I am committed to the plant message.
My future will be focused around
Embracing our diversity, nourishment
And interdependence.
And that feels best.

The storm seems to have passed.
The winds are dying down,
Fences broken, trees have fallen.
And I just take another step.
Muscles developed.

i remember someone on this site a long time ago.
they would write unrelenting epic poems that
always made my fingertips tingle in that way
they do when you're surprised art made you
feel something again, you know?

i arrive back here tonight because i've been
doing a whole lotta feeling and far too little art
and i've stopped letting it surprise me.

i keep oversharing when people ask, "how are you?"

i keep wondering who i'm supposed to be at this point on this long path of becoming. i don't know, i've never liked the phrasing but it resounds so cleverly from forebrain to nervous system it's uncanny and unavoidable and ineffable. who am i am i am i am i am i ...

i want to make a map,
a cartography of memory,
charting the granite and
soil, marrow and moss,
river foam, abusers,
flower gardens, wild blackberries --
the purple dabbed away from those
soft parts that blackberries might stain

to wash deep berry blood off
in the public pool bathroom
where she first made you a novelty

to scrape darker
from under his fingernails
with bark from the tree she
made you hide behind

the same park you grew up in

a spot you always caught the sunset
a spot he caught you and the sun seemed always then to set

still haven't gone back

it's time to make a map