Internalizing anxiety can **** you, my dear
That's what they said
Over and over again
So much so the impact left a ripple
An echo throughout my entire headspace

So I'll have to throw it up
Reach between my ribs and take it out
There's a knot there
Or a stone, a tumor
Some tension I can't quite name
I can't tell where it came from

But I can
See, It's the feeling of fear
Fear of disappointing myself of others
So I work and I work and I work
But not well, no
I work from fear
I keep tension and it keeps me

I may have to disassemble myself to release it
But It's so painstaking
Like writing a message to
A colleague, a classmate, a friend, a lover
Does this sound brash, or cold, or needy, or...?
How can I speak to myself without creating further damage?

Note(s) to self:
Let it go, because once you do you will feel lighter.
Don't be afraid to enjoy life, don't take your demons too seriously.
Waiting for someone else to save you is
only wasting your potential,
And calm seas rarely make good sailors, anyway.
It's not your fault.
Just because you're imperfect doesn't mean you don't
Deserve to exist, or be loved.
People will misunderstand you and your intentions
Make peace with the fact that
It's inevitable, unless both of you are willing to change that later.

Flow like water, don't sink like the stones you carry.

Give yourself a chance.
Work on it.

The season I decided
I didn't want to
Rip dead grass from the ground
And plate it like a fine meal

But sow new seeds
And look forward

***** where the greener pasture is,
I'll grow it myself.

I thought I saw you walking
I say it casually but that's a lie
Gave me a heart attack
But it wasn't one, no
It felt like a lightning strike
Sent from the heavens
Like some sort of divine torture I'm not meant to understand
Could you make it stop??

I consider my existence a series of soul ties.
They are not just to any old dead
And they share something other than
what science said they did

A birthright, a lineage
A path of light, or shadow

They passed down pieces of their soul
Comprised of the souls that came before them
So I think it's more than DNA
or DNA is more than science
And science is more than what it says

Sometimes I forget
Because I see breathing blood
And it's not in a vacuum
And its not all blood

But then I remember
How she wanted to be a career woman
Or how another spoke Spanish
Or how he wrote a book left unpublished

Strange and magical, beautiful
While tired, hidden, and creating

Just as I am
Tired of conjugation, childless,
and writing

I consider my existence a series of soul ties
An inheritance of affinities
A set of dreams bursting to break through.

If my heart is an ocean
Gone unexplored
Then why is it here?

I try to drain it
Make it palatable
Because on its own, it feels like too much

Layers upon layers
Light, deep blue, darker
I'm not sure where the bottom is

It's got to be for something

I've got to feel for something

They reach out their hand
And trail their fingers over the surface
Not seeking further depth
I hate that I do the same
I don't invite them in.

If my heart is but an ocean gone unexplored
Then why is it here?

Lit up, we lounge under sky fire
Our skin charged and warm
Thoughts 'round my head like a hot wire
I jump in to avoid the oncoming swarm

Cool silk comes to ease my dread
Now I swim with silenced voices
they float around my head
Begone to all regrets for bad choices

I'm in the shallowest layer of the dark
Summer has faded and left its mark

In my head I've lost it.
In my head I'm standing on your front lawn
My bare feet on the damp grass
In the early morning.

The mist fills my tongue
Sprinklers pour over me
I shiver and think of all this water

I feel the weak warmth
Of a pale colorless sunrise.

You walk out the front door
In your suit and tie, briefcase in hand
You don't even look at me. The apparition
You kiss her goodbye, you get in your car and drive away

I stand with my dress all wet
Soaked to the bone
Praying for the sun to come sooner

This water pins me,
It weighs me down.

Every so often I step through that door
And take stock of what I've got
Pretty little things that don't make sense
But are great fun to me.

For example, I imagine
Mist speckled with silver, shimmering each time the wind picks up
Warping and swaying with the breeze.
It blankets a field of white grasses.

Another holds a grove
With electric blue leaves screaming on the hills
Shuddering and flashing with energy
Catching the wind.

In continuation
I made a deep charcoal ravine
Far down flows glowing purple lava
Carving out a riverbed far below
Thick, deadly, enrapturing.

But I can't forget green
Everything back home comes in green
The night sky in my mind
Is the deepest, blackest emerald
With stars piercing through the velvet.

The more I imagine the deeper I go
So then I make
Clouds thick and vaporous
Rumbling and yellow
Orange lightning flashes and strikes
Against the inky black sea
Golden fish flickering like candles within.

Perhaps its silly
But one say I hope to see it again.

Sometimes I get an impression
A hint of what I could have
A small stone wet from the ocean
Or the color of my favorite sweatshirt

Maybe one day I could see it in the flesh.

The azure ether
melding to my dazed eyes, and
blurring my vision

Yesterday morning I woke up with a hole above my head
I got up, brushed my teeth and got dressed
As anyone does
I got in my car and drove.
I did what I was supposed to.

This morning I woke up with a star above my head
It took me on a tour
To the room with our plans laid out on a canvas, halfway done
Sketched in pencil, the paint had already left

The sun streamed in through the open window.
It felt like a dream.

I'm on okay terms with my demons,
But our relationship is completely superficial.
We talk and laugh at parties,
But their claws dig into me.
I smile nervously
And rip 'em off
Like the body of a tick, too quickly
So the head is still embedded
And I wait for paralysis to set in.

You know how the saying goes:
They write one and you know they love you
They write a hundred and they love the craft
I'll admit
I've written a hundred and more, 'm sorry

I'm getting sick and tired of the same routine
Pacing all night
Until I collapse, exhausted

Spinning my wheels, running on fumes,
And ultimately getting nowhere.

I'm thinking of blowing this whole thing up
And starting from scratch
Because after we ended things
It took you half the time to recover that I did.

You know how the saying goes
And those are the consequences of having a muse.
You corrupted the art
And turned it into an obsession.

I've been limited,
Waxing poetic about your body, your soul, your grip on me
And nothing more.

Take this as a goodbye letter
To: you
And for: me
Take this as a promise to stop looking back.

I'll write about the stars
The wind in my hair
And how the birds sing to greet the early morning.

Maybe one day I'll write about someone new.

I'll write about living, and stop thinking about you.

In a dream
I was sitting on the grass at night
hands splayed behind me to support my weight

I looked up, staring at the same old constellation
until one star at the edge fractured
a few pieces brightly trailing down

and then everything exploded
a nebula bloomed to take up a piece of the sky
celestial green with
an aura pulsing outward in waves
as if calling me to another edge of the universe

I tried to film it
zooming in and the layers kept going
detail upon detail
depth upon depth

now sitting in my bed, I'm wondering what it all means.

I compare my loneliness to the sound of a mourning dove.
It starts low and small, then goes up
It repeats the more each call goes unanswered

Perhaps letting it out, alone and loud
over and over
eases the pain, yet also pokes at the caged creature within
encouraging a festering of wounds.

A mourning dove never seems to be where the other birds are
Because when it calls it becomes all I can hear
It guides me far into the fog, ever elusive
until I finally spot it
high above on a line.

Every time it gets a little easier.
Every time it starts to sound less
like a Gymnopédie No. 1
and more like a Claire de Lune
major key as well as minor
content as well as sorrowful.

It's alone, and it's still singing.

Moth that lost the moon
swimming in a sea of lights
electric tricksters

I want to move so I do it in silence
2am dance party
empty dead house, electric mind

Maybe one day you'll see my soft underbelly
Maybe I'll always prefer the shell

But, blooming in hope, I whisper
I can wait forever until you're ready
to put opaqueness to your translucent form
In the meantime

Just give me a glass of that sweet ambrosia
and I'll move forever
swaying on the gods' dancefloor

Everyone knows what becomes of energy.
It cannot be created
It cannot be destroyed
And so, since I've caught it
Now I must set it free

I watch it slip away, in mourning
See it soar up to the sky
And break past the atmosphere

It flies years away
Straight to the end
Where the stars hold their breath at the edge.

Wait for me
Take the light and weave it into the dark
Dance with me
Not a shadow of a doubt in sight

I'd like to think time moves differently here.
No past nor future to speak of
Just two souls intertwined
Existing, evermore.

I run my fingers through my hair to tame it
The wind is a little rough but I don't mind
With my windows down, a chill isn't going to stop me
from enjoying this sky,
from singing this song.

Or maybe I'll keep quiet instead,
soak it all in.

I could fly, you know
float through the roof
kiss the blue, fade to orange
I bet it feels soft
texture of a velvet petal.

I'll rub it between my fingers,
Then watch it sail away.

I know we all want the world to be just
but we can’t decide how to get what we want
so we should either try harder or give up, and go to
Heaven and take
every blessing we can get to fabricate a
better world, one that doesn’t have an atmosphere turning hot
one that doesn’t reward you just for being White.

I think we can breathe in silk and drink neon
as long as we promise not to wake up to the waiting knife
It could be better if we stay here, and
dream until we meet sleep’s relative,
consequence of more than one stab
that which we will never have to feel, until
we return from whence we came,
angels and devils alike thinking it’s
A shame we didn’t entertain them like they wanted,
and thus resurrect a new humanity not from dust but ashes…