Sweetbitter kiss caressed
lips. esophagus. stomach. chest.

inaccessible 'till death.
untouchable--so close to the chest.

unable to put out fires, burns
will have to rest
where they lie smoldering, watching
eyes walk bye.

I close my I.

Carry me, now--not home
not to neverland
not over the rainbow

Just carry me softly in sweet-smelling acidic things.
--a little corrosion does a girl a world of good--
sing me songs, wolf-in-sheeps-clothes, that my mother used to

and bring me gifts on angel-dusted wings,
nothingness never before made greater feeling.

Our lives themselves strived for meaning while we strived for the reason for being
the way the great cold faceless hands created
our unyielding . . . softness
separate from and not unlike a feather
equal both in whimsical light, lack of value, disease and helplessness
great beauty, plainness, and utter insignificance

Us little things are great only to those with great imagination--
light in the clouds,
break in your fever
blip on your radar
the fast one before the flatline always seems so much shorter than it should. Shorter than they said it would.

I relax
sweet relief
sweet goodnight

we'll wake up and try this one more time.
we won't get it right-- you can't
get it right

give me this bip, this sleep, this chance.

*******, we'll still try--
to get it right sometime.

I wonder where your wonder went--
why you stashed away your wonderment?
for sake of posture pride and pallor
ironic, yes for all the hours
of studying "normative" culture--
of faults and flaws and freedom ruptured
bashing against consumerism
driven
lives

Your stuff's not as cool as mine
Poor things!
how blind! What empty lives!
Why can't they see the alternative side?

But wait--that's mine! My idea--I divined!
Great spirit told me not to sell half price
and things I buy--of course they're mine

But free trade, bought and paid for
I'm down with the indigenous cause,
I'm no capitalist ***** . . .
But oh my, those pants are nice
and that skirt's lovely, too, I'd love to wear it twice
wait--
Why dothey have those
I'm more hip than them, more
open minded, I'm
Mother Earth's best friend.
or ****, at least more hip.
More hotter,
smile and nod, peace and love, yoga ****, on my journey I'm farther.

See there! Don't look in my eyes, but
at my size 2 thighs
in this brand new outfit
haters despise . . .

I guess I'm wondering where your love is,
I digress from my rant, just show me
where the shelf is
that holds your origin story,
lost child,
eyes wide,
mind blown by lights and shiny bits and
new friends' smile and--
BASS vibrating your spine.

Where's the love that widened your mind?

Your smug
exhausts me.  
Wasted,
under desert skies by
stagnant waters reflected
in your shades, and--
I had to shake you.
And whence the dust had loosened
from cracks
like earth
beneath your skin,
I was afraid
and fled from mine.

Couldn't eat so
I smoked a cigarette,
now all I've got is shallow satisfaction,
bad breath.

But I'll pick my scabs, just to
remind myself,
Pick my scabs
as if I could find myself
finger-deep in my own left thigh.

Missed you today,
I turned the TV on so I wouldn't
feel alone, and
let reality slip
away.

And I pick my scabs to remind myself,
Pick my scabs to encourage better health
And I pick my scabs so I can know they're healing

I always fell in love with
moments, never with the man.
I danced through stars to
love songs I couldn't understand

And I pick
my scabs, just to remind myself
And I pick my scabs,
just to pretend to know
how scars are birthed from blooming skin

Pick my scabs like I wish I
could crack apart my shell,
let it shatter
let it shatter

But you can't see it, so to you it doesn't matter.

Flesh will always lie, but my keloids will remember.

Bitter past will grasp upon you
but surviving is what matters.

So I,
pick my scabs
to remind myself

and enough of this endless restless nesting fetish.
Incomplete sentences stammered by the breathless
Full of obscure references overtested by the bested . . .

forget to forget the last failure from my past and we'd run rampant and ram horns again but a circle won't fit with a square
no matter how many times you test it . . .

speak money speak *** speak respect;
you can't buy any with either or neither
but try please to succeed
and we'll watch your world crumble

Man never stops learning though unconcerned but acts concerning.
Playing the role of the wiseman the fool gives false advice
spreading vices to mice who won't stand for what's right

To be said **** the fools,
but you must protect them from what we don't know
but you'll never respect them
and you find by and by that by mingling with monsters
you're no longer a savior no longer a martyr
but instead you're so dead that you're following
following
and now like the rest you
falling
dropped
to the bottom.


Clear my mind with bleach
be my teacher, no my preacher
The need for meter seems to have defeated my reason,
unwanted, it seems, perhaps even defeated.

I often wonder how the world sees the world, I long for new perspective. The world seems unyielding, unwanting.
I am born to pry at why we are born to die; born to forever wonder why.
And why?
Answer ever answer. And forever wondering why I can never take chances. I'm often to wrought with distractions to advance.
Why did they refuse to give her a chance?
Why did she refuse to give him a chance?


Someone must've written this story in advance.

And here I am, the chip
on your shoulder
Now tell me what shape
can this neutral face take
you to meet
your ends
make amends, rage through
over get over?

You look at me, see
last dances, smiling kisses
young romances?

Or hands not held
misunderstood--rejected
resentment for disconnect
still festering, infected?

Or perhaps kind words
dreams under
stars and secrets
and good times--
my favorite by far?

Now here's one of those faces
with something to say

I can be so much more than
a projection of your past if you
you'd let me--at least
release me from
angsts gossip

I promise I'm not your
youth come back to haunt you I'm
just trying to live my life here I
don't exist just for you
to torment you
or adore you
let me be myself please!
The chopping block's so painful and
right beside your face was
not the seat for which I'm aiming I
feel so trapped here
please release me
just ignore me
let me be a blank slate
if nothing else-- just boring
And maybe even something new
I promise not to sic my past on
you just please--oh
please
don't make me relive your nightmares
like you do

I don't want to be stuck with you
If I could I'd unstick you
Don't be stuck on me
I'd never do that to you

[Making this habit] tons at a time

Prisms echoed into blue
as fate
faced you
fainting.  Slightly.  To her right side
bearing to selective few her
divide.

Memories faded long since into
fantasies
of minds in collde; bodies intertwined
then
I me thine then
softly.  I me mine.

Tracing circles--
This pattern understanding
greater design.

yet not criminal-
not yet unkind
Your breath inhale,
exhale mine

These backs broken
twice in one time

Then thrice under dark skies
bleeding hearts did cry,
breaking hearts remind:
rational words of deep roaring depths inside.

Repentance dates in great time
Spirits, broken, crying
but with healing entwined.
As I declined
I rise,

now finally.

Inhale my breath
exhale thine

I'd say I passed
right through you.

Could you feel (if it killed you)
heat from burning bridges.

Ghosts reached
out of pity giving matter
to tie me to this slowing stone
before I floated by.

I'd say I passed
right through you.

I'd be fooled into thinking you could feel:
I could have sworn I saw
you
blink

And I'd rather be on fire
disintegrate within desire
than circle such a great, unknowing  

drain.

speak for the stars, helpless as a child
silence
gasping at straws, grip's lost.
Violence
draws it's own lines,
but the definition of violence--is
yours to define.
I'm alone this time.
I'm not alone this time.

In dreams I pluck petals from a flower that had not
love me
love me not
love me twice
love me not
love me thrice
love forgot to love me not
then forgot to forget--forgot me twice;twice forgot.
love me not.

Reach inside my mind
grab bag
pick your prize
what's inside?
it's alive!
it's alive?
there's your surprise.

Kissing glass before it fragments
then licking up the pieces of every fallen mirror.
There was always something **** about
lipstick
on your cigarettes
and blood upon your chin.

I'm reaching.
What if I really promise that I'm reaching?
will you teach me?
will I reach it?
am I growing?
gaining?
is it still worth reaching?

I promise I'm still breathing.
ever reaching, speaking, seeing[un]seen seeing.
but what does meaning mean?



do you FEEL me?
did you get it?
I don't even know what I'm ******* saying.
but I'll never regret it.

Any word never so softly spoken
never words ever so stately joking . . .
hopeless without dope
the whole world tokes--
just don't choke
and swallow smoke so toxic.

I've had it with this rock ****,
wanting women to go *******.
knock THIS with fists clenched to bliss
never was there ever so sinister a kiss.
don't miss this chance to be missed for misters miss's listless jist of this.


sound is forever
ever heard of white noise
its the sound of people fighting across the world forever ever for letters between a girl and a boy.
are you sure?
do you really want this?
can you bomb it, not drop it
to **** meaningless fetuses?
why are you reading this?
you can't beat this.
Eat this slowly trying to depleat this.
guess what?


everhing you've been reading is meaningless.

There's only so much smell left in your powder box
I can tell.  I
only open it every once in a while,
to feel like a child
and hear your chuckle and smell
how
glamorous
you were.

I didn't weep at your slipping away.
I could see your pain
I could hear it screaming under
your skin, your pride burning
your age raging inside you, I
watched you crumble and I blinked, I
looked away.
I didn't want you to have to feel your pain.

But you live with me here.
In an old box you don't remember that I have,
out of all the countless
sparkly
spangly
shiny things you gave to me, this is the thing
I keep with me.

Your trash.
Your old powder box.

I open it from time to time and I smell you and I hear you rumble
and I see you
lipstick and hair and bright poofy hairbands.

Every time I open up your box it smells a little less like you.

I didn't fear your going because I knew that it was time
but I rue already the day when I might think on you
and not be able to find you.

When your powder box will just be a box.
Instead of the place I keep you inside.

Bottle caps, broken glass,
dried chewing gum from persons passed,
and you.
You-there.
Obliterated.

Condemned to die
by thoughtless giants:
passers-by with no alliance
to rain, nor sun,
nor earth or its creatures smaller than their thumb.

Your brothers lie about you
and cousins lie around;
awareness reaching only feeling--
feeling only reaching now
and unforgiving ground.

Scattered masses who dared
to run from home
to find the rain--
to feel the air
so moist it could
sustain a life--
just once. Just one time.

To dream that a child of the earth
could feel the light,
the freedom within thinner space
before, again, within the ground to be encased.

To play like children often do,
those wet-shoed, runny nosed few.
To thrive without surviving--

But this is the price you pay
to live so explosively before dying.

I wish that I could see
through your eyes the dream
that makes it worth it
to yield to fate in exchange
for a dance beneath the open sky.

Or do you know?
I'm sure you do.
I like to imagine I would,
if I were you

Do you realize your mistake?
Before the sun, your life will take?

And if, again you had the choice,
would you still emerge from earth's embrace for skys rejoice?

I'd like to think you would.

You.
Ceased-to-be, but still are;
near to home, and somehow far;
lost from earth but found by me,
crushed and trampled.
Immobile,
but free.

Here there lies bottle caps and broken glass,
dried chewing gum from persons passed:
Things I would not touch if asked,

and then you.
You-there.
Obliterated.

I keep the TV on, because when I do it feels like I'm living.
I keep my browser running, because when I do, it feels like I'm feeling.
I keep my movement low, because I'm slow, because I'm softer
and I burrow deep beneath my sheets to forget that I'm a daughter.
World's potential rages, shapes and faces overwhelm me,
and I'm screaming silent for the quiet that I feel like I am missing.
I want to touch you, see you, hold you, speak without restriction.
But I numb my mind in sounds and lights, so that I can slip away.

Over-stimulation cradles what craves to be kinetic,
pacifies the glowing inside craving open air.
I cannot move, I cannot go, I'm too afraid to ride the ride
and so I'll sit behind the lines
and participate by watching.

And here we'll watch the world together- and also so alone
would that I could
rip free the bandage
and leave my ***** home.

and the internet praises the introvert and tells us we're secretly deep.
And we dress our wounds with wasted time until we fall asleep.

And in my dreams I'm running, fighting, TRYING SO HARD
to break free.
And in the morning, I shudder, shake them off
and dim the light in me.

And day after day
back, here we go,
back to the flickering screen.

This aching churns within me where happiness will bubble
T-minus 5...4...

My writing is ****. There's no art here anymore.
Sob
******* onto paper.

Everyone relates to interpretation, but inkblots have no soul.
Stains, waiting.
Sunlight cannot creep where darkness cannot grow.

Coin-flip. Mind-trip. Sad rag-time beat out, off beating
beat poet beats drums no one can hear.
There's nothing here.

Jeckyl wishes Hyde would hide, run away
never come back--
I'll never forget how much I lack
I've cracked, back fractures breaking
too much ecstasy--not enough--You're shaking

is that me?
can't be.

This desperation
this need to cling to SOMETHING
it's worse every time--it's cheap when I rhyme
I can't ride out these mistakes, can't fake that I'm ok

I seem to be doing fine.
but its one
or the other in my mind

-NOT SO YOU COULD THROW LIGHTSWITCH RAVES-

can't be saved
keep repeating
I wish I could be saved but
they never let me have my pony.
No white horses
No dreaming

So obsessed with this wheel I keep spinning
the only thing I seem to be able to do is change direction.

tedious, no?
It's what we're working with.

All I ever wanted was somebody to love me
now...when it comes to be
it just makes me more crazy
how can someone love me?
it doesn't make sense.
I go to rip off your mask and I take off your face--

surrounded by rotting skin
searching for a way to end
so how can I begin?

It Was the Wind. I.

It was the wind
    That comes through me

1,000 songs of voices singing

penetrating to

my bones

       incomprehensible

stories
       all electricity
       and fire

and I could ride you
blind
          through miles of time

never truly knowing

the words with which

to make you known to me

but we I feel

though not I see

It was the wind

That wore a

whole in me.

 








It Was the Wind. II.

         It was the wind
         ceaseless howling
         a never ending
                  cacophony
               of sad stories

         and the unreasonable

         wear

         of time

                  blowing deep

         sanding down my memories

         where-ing away my

         mind

         everything gives


                  to the wind

         find me here
                 If the wind hasn’t

         yet picked

         me

         clean.

 









It Was the Wind. III.

































                                                                          . . . it was the wind.

look at us
dreaming, unsleeping.
Vibrant broken, ever-enlightening youth.

Singing dirges as if we knew the dead,
as if we had no friends.

Shower me with your wisdom,
your ever widening meaning.
Like this fractured mentality wasn't what the world was reaching for.

Pushed past the point of no return,
came back full circle.

maybe this time we'll find an end
or maybe we can meet again at the middle.

Wherever whispers ruled,
that's where I'll love you.

Wherever fear befriended those who stood unoffended, who reached
for something.
Who understood the currencies of blood,
of screaming into the wind;

of challenging the world to ******* harder.
That's where I'll always love you.


My benign chaos.


My finest rage
my purest angst,
my greatest sadness,
my only meaning.

You can't feel unless someone tells you that you're feeling.

When I grow up I don't want to:
I told you I'd wait by the window, all I ever wanted was forever.
I'll never close it, never.

Here, in this sadness, in this panic that what we feel will last forever?
that's where I'll always love you,
forgive you,
wait for you.

dear peter.

Nothingness
hums, quivers, aches ashes once again with
midnights slipped though slowly shutting eyes.

Statues turn to flesh, come alive.
Rain-danced the cracks away.
Smoothed over once again,
built from nothing out of clay.

I'm waiting for the echo,
new sound, sweet music
my 'eres itch, anticipate to quiver
wait to feel a breath, then to shiver.

Ambience is all I have to give
in search of death, to breathe again, to live.
To sleep perchance to dream and then to wake
alone yet someone's arms your pillows fake.

Would you pay for this clarity?
Magnifying glasses are still a barrier.
Yet hope is on my side that there will rise
another who can see with clear fire in their eyce.

Wait now until the world escapes.
Skin cold like stone again will rest,
waiting for the moment
when flesh will capture crumbling breast.

Madness
breathes, shivers, resonates manifestation with we who play with dice
sixes, snake eyes; kiss yours if you kiss mine.

I wear my scars like diamonds
piece by piece
collected
from every place that I've been
mindless,
lost, blind, unable to find this
compassion
for fellow man
to help
myself, because the way
we treat the world
is the way we treat
ourselves,
and it's hell
out there --
but in here, just kind of warm,

in this home I've built
from scar tissue
to clothe me
when I'm homeless
because home is
where your heart is

and we fool ourselves
and romanticize
our drug abuse as art

from every start of
this sad little song;
the tiniest
violin
and we all can sing along

yeah, we all can sing along

and we sing:

me in my mansion
of scar tissue
I can't love myself
so I can't love you
(and) it's true
we're all lonely
lost
and if you could
only see me
remember just to breathe
just to be,
and then we
could look our reflections
in the eyes
and then me and you
might drop the veil
and finally realize
the spiritual
connection

to build bridges
even when we're helpless
if we could only be
just a little bit less
selfish:

take my plate
it's for you
I can't feed myself
I'd rather feed you--

But here in my mansion
of scar tissue
a phone call is like
a gunshot, please--

don't steal my diamonds,
don't
steal the only home
that I've built to
reside in

my vast hall
of vast walls

I'm afraid of December
but,
eager for the fall

this is all I've made
all these years
and if it all would
disappear

m a y b e   s o   w o u l d   I
well then maybe I
could grow you here
a garden--
wall to gravel,
great for drainage

to keep out all the rot
of the rotten cell the self built

I'll topple down
I cut meow-t
I'll bring the fall
and find my diamonds
made of skin

oh--if only to be free
of these walls
I'm living in,
to only excise myself
from my prison made from skin;

would you be there?
would we be there
together?

could we finally lie
eye to eye
breathe deep in
the rebellion

breathe deep,
break free,
of this cell
wall we've cemented
ourselves in to

this is me,
I want to sing

I want to sing with you

we'll swell well form
the start of one tiny violin

to a whole orchestra
of the whole world's song
all these cell-ves
all alone
but together
sing along

and we'd sing:

me in my mansion of scar tissue
I'm learning to forgive
myself
so that I can break
through

and it's true
we're all so lonely
and if I could only
see you
remember just to breathe
just to be
and then we
could break the glass,
I to I

and we'd all be free.

I am an open wound in a world of bandaids

Powder keg
caked-cracked hands
reach grab
snag
shuffle softly into sand

Sun unknowingly blows open doors wider
than any mouth can go
oh
open wider
wider wider

Wire tap my mind
so you can breathe inside grab
a drink unwind
unhinge
bring to the brink

Binge to the brim
skim skip hop trip
roll down the hill
if you break your crown
bags of cats could tell you

even in the dark there is a light
brighter
too bright to see
breathing
being
heating hot coals waking the sleeping

My mother told me

I'll sit here blinking
The hours away
Moment to days
Right here I'll stay
(Breathing)
Entire epics
Written and played
Upon the stage
That is your face
(Nearby)
Sweat falls from its place
A tiny cascade
From the visage of grace.

Forever, a moment, an hour, a day.

And here I sit trying
To commemorate
The nuance of time
In the smallest of space.
Like an airplane fitted with
Too many wings
The grandest of things
Will not give way
To flight, or to mind
To the heart or the skies
It carries a load
Much too heavy
Inside

And somehow impossibly
Silly as hell--
Forever the curse to the solemn befell

Dreamt about you again.
I'd tell you all about it, but
I know you won't receive it.

I wonder maybe if you knew--
if I called upon you
every morning after fitful sleep,
haunted
by your face.  Maybe
then if you knew, maybe
then you would not be so cruel.

If only I knew what inspired you
to have done what you continue to do
is it me?
must be.  
But what did I do, did I
hurt
you?
Or have you just decided I'm
worthless and not worth your time.

I try, I do.
to respect you, your
space and wish for me gone
but how can I drop
you when you won't leave me--


You, who chase me in my dreams.

Maybe you were nothing more than a Friday night

Can't you hear it?
Every day
can't you feel it?

would that I could
draw hundreds of pictures
in lieu of thousands of words,
jumbled.
lost,
without point, without bottom
chickens, cows, cats, macaques,
crowded classrooms
and hearts, spilling out in a thousand directions

Don't you hear it?
Don't you feel it?
Screams, vibrating the walls
the collective wave of something we walk by every day
--and don't ******* me about your progress--
Can't you hear it?

How can you not feel our body bruised,
thin-lined, square, red ditches pucker fields of flesh:
if wasted sweat were rain, we'd be fed.
Necks stiff, eyes low, teeth bleached and thin.
lips chapped.
Seizing from impulse but too dead to act

The world is shaking
crying, laughing, moving, screaming
waiting for death
praying for life
singing

Can't you hear it?

Do you quake like me?
Do you rustle and shake, shoot light
Fire blow breeze storm
Open wide
Sigh softly down and settle into dust
When we must muster the strength to shine
To break from rust do you
Quake like me
Erupt silently, breaking unknowing
Crackling softly
Lead snaps on paper perfect, solemn untouched and
Pens
Send scratch and dance, do you shake?
Do you ache, frozen in breath on sky
Do you cry out you---
Do you fall?
Terminal velocity calmly calling do you drip
Do you break?
Do you open wide? Sigh

Cigarette in hand, death is nigh
Do you eye?
So you dig deep where flesh burns back from fingernails cracking agains stone alive?
Do you quake?
Do you thrive?
This stone's alive.

Like an eclipse
Your lips
were never meant to stay
there
at the top of my sky
merging day into night
and then passing

returning only years later
halfway around the world and all over someone else.


You're a meteor shower; beautiful
you're cataclysmic; you left me changed

Irreparably scarred beyond normal or appropriate standard.

Poorly planned fireworks.









..... I'd like my pinkie back, Linda.

I’m going sideways
break like a wave
listing scribble
on the depth of
your page.
Our love is a stage
1,000 words
1,000 days
1,000 monkeys
1,000 typewriters writing our play
we'll recite ‘till the day
you split
and quit
and leave me here to break.
I’m listing
sideways
drifting
sideways.
Turn off the lights.
Lock up for the night.
Leave me here.
I’ll be missing
you
just drifting
sideways.

Sometimes I think about me and you
smoking prime times in the park
and how being outside was all it took
to feel awake and wide open
and how it felt to be
just three feet from you
and stare at our shoes.

We climbed the tiny jungle gym
where daylight fell on children playing
and then the sun went down and
children's dreams of kings and queens
yielded to tiny, almost-adult dreams
of being free.

This world was ours
and they meant so much
and nothing at all to talk about
our lives and how big they felt.
And how small we really were.

Hands slid along ***** chains
and legs pumped and
here we were, whimsical
with childhood past
and yet untouched by what would pass.

The air a canvas for laughter
and smoke
and bravado,
who knew?

Even if you were still here with us,
I'd still miss you.

The stars are beautiful and bright, and they are *burning

And then I wrote this one about my grandmothers and not knowing one of them-

Born a ghost
Born of ghost
Born to know
The inheritance
Of holes
In borne shone there
Where the emptiness
Grows

You made me,
Borne in wanting
Waiting
For magic
So Ill defined it can’t be known
Magic
Made
In river dirt and rocks and
Loneliness
Me
Child of the void
In you

In
   finite
Trapped
               But ever expanding celestial
To what I can never know,
Never understand
But know
                  That I am missing

Lesser
Wanting
Unbroken but not whole just—
                                                     holey.

Here, I cling
To rafts made
Lashed together of rituals fragmented by time
And space
And here on the ocean,
Stormy seas
I’ll wash swept
Slung to symbolism crashing on the rocks,
Weathered

And is it my solid bits, buoyant with *******
That keeps me afloat
Or the hole
That is home in me.

But then again—ghosts don’t drown
I was born dead at sea.

If you looked me in the eyes
in this moment would you
kiss me maybe
and
If you tried to hold me
would you maybe just adore me
i feel these tears in your eyes but
are they
tears of happiness? or regret that i'm the best you can do?

and
If maybe i was your dream come true?
do maybe i mean the world to you?
If maybe i inspire you the way you stimulated me
could it be
we're meant to be
or is maybe this whole things just a dream?

If perhaps we danced along the skyline
and down the desert roads
and maybe If
we took the time to check the signs
would you see me in your one way?

If If If I held all the things that you wanted
that you needed
that you treasured
would you want to hold me
maybe roll with me
maybe smoke a bowl with me
and reflect upon the fancy of our meeting here?

would you find it clear?
would you want me there?
would it be? could it be?
If you loved me
If you wanted me
maybe maybe
dancing under musky starlight under pulsing lights under breaking dawn breaking down under falling trees and tumblin doors
and maybe
just maybe
If you would wish for more. . .

If maybe you would play my game
If maybe you would pull my mane
and maybe we would play again
and again
and again
and again . . . .
why **** this fight for what we think is right and good and smart to do
**** your insecurities your guidelines your safety rails
no ones safe when we dare to inhale
and If i breathed your sweat intermingled with mine
my breath and yours could go in time . . .
and our hearts would beat in something greater than rhythm, our souls would speak in something so much more powerful than rhyme . . .
be mine
be mine
be mine
take me
let me be yours
yes thine
yes thine
yes thine
and our hips would move in sync in time
it's right
it's right
it's right
and IF we made this IF something greater than what lies infected in my mind . . .
lie behind
lie behind
lie behind.

let's ride.

I.

When I had to leave, I think
I must have hidden you
I grabbed you up
Put you somewhere safe
Pulled you from me
Into a box, gently 
Opening up the walls of myself,
My old house
I might return to
And I placed you inside and
Gently
Sealed up my walls around you
Like gum
Or snow
Or sand 
She seals you
And left you there to find again one day
 
 
 
. . . 


II.
Pulling down cobwebs
Through the ghost town of me
Don’t wake her
She’s still asleep
I know where to dig
Delicately
Groping down
Like a survivor
Returning to their old home
Shake my bones
And retrieve you deep
From the heart of me
Where I always knew you’d be

I’m still the desert inside
         deep beat
        be still
rest in reason
deep life in the dry
          When I catch the breath of the storm
          I rise
Ride high on the wings of the wind
       my sky


I’m still the desert inside

Joy—
Drops
Pure and light
Like a bubble, a moment
Of humanity encapsulated
here.

Slips
through drowning lips.

Here you are
*******

water ways
you reached the gate

but broken strings
and boken wings
left no coins upon your eyes.

Oh I'm sure you're not
to blame.
I'm sure you'll say
you're not to blame.

Can holes break
like hearts
or are you just
the waves
swerving
moving
claiming mysteries of
the moon
but predictable
in patterns
with fits
not far apart;
your spill fills
holes
but do they break
like hearts?

Or are you here
to pull him down
sailors sail but
sailors also drown.

You feel so low
so you pull them down.

No rest for the wicked, so
no rest for the rest

I know you say
you tried your best

But even the river
moves on
in the end.

Sucker hole
stuck at the gate.
Now unpaid
blank eyes
always.


The cost of the world you alienate
is now you're gone;
just wakes of hate.
no one cares to pay
your toll.

No rest for the wicked, so
no rest for the rest

I know you say
you tried your best

But even the river
moves on
in the end.

Even the river moves
on.

I’m fine
is what you start to say
when you’re not, but
you’re sick of not
fine
And you
don’t want to be
             a
               downer
And you’re

sick

of having
to accept
advice
like
you just haven’t
thought
      to bother to try everything
yet.
       to
be
       fine.

And you’re sick

of explaining
every excruciating
detail
of your history
     and meds
     and procedures
     and life method

like you’re defending your
right
to make your own decisions

like you’re defending

that it’s not just

      ‘YOUR FAULT’

that you’re sick, it

    must be
       YOUR FAULT

Hey —

Have you tried:   ?

you must not have thought of that
yet.

I’m fine
  is because you need me to be
Because I am
       TOO SICK
ALL THE TIME

to deal with
     your hurt feelings

when you can’t

fix

me.

I’m fine <u>for you</u>

So I don’t hurt your feelings by
my feelings getting hurt when
I can’t just me honest that

   I.      AM.   NOT.   FINE.

without that being

        a crisis

for you.

Without you needing to come up
with a solution right then and
there to make me all better like

I don’t know how to
                                                                                         eat veggies
                                                                                               exercise
                                                                                [not **** myself]
                                                                                              try CBD
                                                                                             meditate
                                                                                 take time to cry
                                                                                                get rest
                                                                                  drink more tea
                                                                                [not **** myself]
                                                                                                 stretch
                                                                                 --hey, have you
                                                                                         tried CBD?
                                                                                it works for me.

And I –
    don’t want to be rude.
And I –
    hey, I’m here for
            you

So instead of being who I am
and owning my try, but

getting snippy when you’ve
beat me with your
good intentions
    and then
feeling guilty and attacked
and needing to take MORE time
to cry –
            I –
                      I’m fine.

Live in the wind
Spin
Sing
Many
Pieces and one great thing

Open wide sliced
Quite
Thin

Here before you
Forever unseen

Singing all day but
You haven’t heard
Anything

I’ve told you my secrets
I’ve shown you my heart
Surrounded—
All around you—
Look what I’ve found
And I’ve found you.

Unseen here
Unheard, too.

Secrets sound like gentle rustling
All you claim but
You see nothing
Just a
Thing
Like any other
Means you won’t
See
How lonely you’ve
Made me.

Sometimes I am so small.
I squeeze my eyes
and I think
be quiet---wait.

Well really, that's a lie.
The truth
is when you're loud I shut my eyes
and I scream inside
shut up!

But the why inside both moments in my mind
comes from the same place.
Because I am shell-shocked.
And to speak clearly, make eye contact,
and sometimes even to leave the house
shakes me.

And even fighting that fight for the right to make noise unabashedly every day sometimes
loud noises still scare me.
And inside I'm still afraid.
Sometimes I can't move at all.  Not even a little bit.

So when do I get better?
Forever surfing on my depression; what is the goal, here?
When does the deep breathing and the chamomile tea and the therapy and the journaling and every other **** thing finally make me better?
When does it seem like the world is better with me in it?
Because I'm not convinced on that one at all.


But you know I suppose
It really wouldn't make a difference either way, which
is comforting.

Because when I open my computer up to the world I see hate and anger and ******
And a level of discourse that is essentially people ******* their egos onto one another as violently as possible.

But today when I walked to the grocery store a little boy on his tricycle smiled at me.
And made car noises.
And I made car noises.
And we raced.


And I wasn't afraid at all.