Some souls
Are kick-***
Unbreakable
And mighty
Others want sympathy
While cutting your psyche
Sometimes
It's the choice between
Unbreakable
And
Always broken

I loved to ride my Schwinn bicycle
I guess I was only nine
I ride it down to the pond
where I spent a lot of my time

I also loved a girl back then
She had a dog named Polar Bear .
Of course it was white
Until it was run over
by a school bus whose driver didn't care

I loved living in Florida
The salt air from
the ocean there
When I left the Sunshine State
I left a huge chunk
of me back there

Now I am a hand in my pocket
Always reaching for something not there
Home is where you hang
your hat
But I found no pegs to hang it
Inside of your lair .

If only we could put poems
in a bucket
Then throw onto a raging
fire
Would the flames die out
Or leap even higher .

But it seems words cost us nothing
More plentiful than the grass on the ground
Our lives have become instrumentals
Where there are no words to be found

My mind is stuck in a place
Of quiet contemplation
And my face is set
In stone

No one notices the racing thoughts
Going through my mind
Only I am aware
Of every movement my brain does
With out me realizing it

Such quiet, and change of perspective
Helps me realize the fascinating things
That others may or may not see
In the world that we claim we are so
Involved with

This is a place of no judgement
A place where thoughts run free
No anger, no fear, no sadness
Just quiet contemplation

They
        
               Say
    
                          Good

                                      Man

                         Are

                 Hard

                             To

                                     Find

                                              I
    
                                Say
  
                      Maybe

      Perhaps
      
         We’re
                
                Just
          
                       Very

                            Good

                                 At

             Playing

                           Hide

                                   And

                                            Seek.

a striking slice along the creamy white
freckle galaxy that is my thighs

is this what i've become?

a dab of crimson, slow pour at first
then a scarlet waterfall, perfect picture of my pain.

why did i do this

throbbing pain, dulling my senses
my mind is numb, almost at ease.

it hurts, i knew it would

gently easing cotton over wound,
bittersweet burgundy blood, feeding into pristine purity

what have i done