can you feel yourself dying?  
do you feel the earth as it burns
as it's turning, twisting
and spiraling so violently
the friction sends sparks
into galaxies? can you taste
the life as it's leaving you?
as it's rippling out of your
fingers and snatching the breath
that's knocked out of you?
do you cringe as your edges
are singed by the fire
surrounding you? as the oceans
subside and the planet decides
that erosion's
just your
point of view.

there are few things sadder
than an unfinished letter.
a deleted text,
a canceled call,
a silenced shout for help.
a book never published,
a photo never posted,
a life never lived.
words are meant to be spoken.
stories meant to be told.
by the meek and the quiet,
not only the bold.
tell your truth to the world,
speak up and speak out.
sharing will free you,
of this, there's no doubt.

Lost in the illusion
Of this painting they called life,
A small girls sits shivering
In the corner of her bathroom floor
...
Inside of this masterpiece
The girl paints more of just that,
Her tears watercolors on the canvas
Of the tiles lining the bathroom floor
...
These tiles now cold and hard
Eating away like acid on her cool flesh,
The comfort of the childhood memories
All washed away from within the walls
That once gave her peace of mind.
Bubble baths turned to ****** ones
As she brings her art to life
...
The words thrown at her
Outside of the world in her bathroom
Now painted red in bold font
Inside a canvas unseen
By anyone but the bitter ghost
Left to rot in the corners of the stone walls
Under the bubbles of the water
That ate away at her crimson tainted flesh
...
The tears stop falling
While the water still runs
Over her treacherous heartbeat,
Down the curves of her spine
As she desperately attempts
To wash away her sins
Not knowing the paint was permanent
Forever etched into her skin
Burning demons into her own canvas
...
Years later,
After many hidden portraits..

Her fragile body aches
As she paints one more masterpiece
To tie the rest of her canvases together.
And with a final stroke of her brush
A tear slips down her face
Rejoicing in how long her art lived
In secrecy before she ran out of paint
...
  She finally paints her signature
  Onto the tiles of her bathroom floor
  Her legacy or a warning to those stuck like her
  The world won't ever come to know
  All they knew was her heart ran out
  Of words to say and canvases to paint
  As she took her last breath and spelled out
           **Mise en Abyme

"The days without you
Bleed together
Until they are nothing more
Than another obstacle
I must overcome."

There is a twisted road
That leads straight between us.
I walk along the forked path
And no matter which way I turn
I always end up in your arms,
Lost in your eyes,
But I know you've found me
All the same.

Your smile is a warm blanket
As it gently settles against
The curves of my body.
Your name blushes my cheeks,
It runs through my hair,
Rests softly on my lips,
Tingling my tongue.

When the painful weight of missing you
Begins to put pressure against my throat,
Squeezing my windpipe shut,
I whisper that you are mine.

And suddenly,
Everything else melts away.
Suddenly, I am free.
Suddenly, I know home is not far off.

You will forever be my always.

Your age is
but the number
of times you've traveled
around the sun
hurtling at
nineteen miles per second
endlessly through the expanding
void
so don't tell me
that there's nothing
interesting about you
fellow space traveler
don't tell me there is nothing
remarkable about crashing
through the universe
while sitting in your armchair
you are an astronaut
capable of searing
the stars
Do not float.
Fly.

The way people perceive you isn't gospel
You're one of those flowers freckled alongside the highway
Always mistaken as a ****

Stars a blaze in all there glory,
tell of time, of later years through story.
Start of suns collapsed and died,
across the skies some shoot leaving suprise.

The earth began many suns ago,
stars now litter the skies, to guide us far below.
On a clear night look up to the skies,
reflecting moon light before the sun will rise.

Fifty million years from start to collapse,
not knowing how much time has lapsed.
The sun will one day loose its heat,
then into a star, joining others in retreat.

Constellations many light years away,
Mark our births from what zodiacs play.
To mark that day at night is so clear,
mapping what time by which constellations so near.

Stars a blaze in all there glory,
tell of time, of later years through story.
Start of suns collapsed and died,
across the skies some shoot leaving suprise.

a different sort of nerves
run up and down my spine
this is new, this is taking
breath and spitting out
a lie, chewing on the
tacky bits of life yet
still forgetting you
will die;
because death falls
through the walls
and takes us even
if we cry,
if we lie;
death is deaf to
tacky pleas and
pulls our breath out of
the lungs
beneath our spines.