Who is this "you"
you write about?

I didn't want to remember
but never tried to forget
and I almost didn't leave
yet I wouldn't go back
I wish I hadn't chosen
but wouldn't change a thing
I'm constantly humming a tune
yet without a song to sing
Feeling so claustrophobic
but afraid to venture outside
I'm sitting here hopefully
yet dwelling on goodbyes
I refuse to release more tears
but my eyes are brimming still
as I linger in warm thoughts
always confused about how I feel

As soon as I start feeling low
My spirit dips down in the pit
The dog reminds me take it slow
Ease down will soon melt the heat.

Your life is so blessedly made
Gifted with so much of gain
Yet you are always afraid
Of even a minuscule pain!

You grumble at everything sore
Sulk in your mires of sorrow
While I wag happy at your door
Without having much of tomorrow!

The dog he knows it too well
Ever eludes a man happiness
He looks for it too much outside
When within him it dwells!

shivering moss
of deep green
I am a ghost
lost in a waltz

haunted moons
shroud me faint
open graves
my crumbling face

nowhere
moist earth
and ice air
take rusted scissors
to this angels echo

-r0

and the light loved you in broken moments of eternity

If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
Both of you are great light borrowers.
Her O-mouth grieves at the world; yours is unaffected,

And your first gift is making stone out of everything.
I wake to a mausoleum; you are here,
Ticking your fingers on the marble table, looking for cigarettes,
Spiteful as a woman, but not so nervous,
And dying to say something unanswerable.

The moon, too, abuses her subjects,
But in the daytime she is ridiculous.
Your dissatisfactions, on the other hand,
Arrive through the mailslot with loving regularity,
White and blank, expansive as carbon monoxide.

No day is safe from news of you,
Walking about in Africa maybe, but thinking of me.

who cares if the spaghetti sticks to the ***
who cares if a guest shows up late
it's not her 18th birthday
it's my baby brother's
and I'll wear my nose ring if I want to

Hush little Whisper
dont you cry
Daddys gonna sing you a lullaby
and when the lullabys all said and done
Mommas gonna sing another one
and when that songs done and gone
Daddys gonna buy you a dead mockingbird
And when that mockingbird tries to sing
Daddys gonna  stab it with a blade
Then hes gonna go far far away
And leave you to fend for youself
and youll cry youself to sleep every night
and Mommas gonna **** herself with a knife
Hush little Whisper
dont you cry
not everything is at it seems
and one day its all too much
and you whisper to yourself
"Hush little Whisper
dont you cry
everythings gonna be alright

In another day, in another year, in another life."