Compassionate wind
blow soft upon my face
caress my skin
from brow to nose to chin
linger with your fingers
comb my tangled hair
strong but light as air
let me know that you are there
and that you care

You walk around
With these ghosts beside you
And the fire you touched with your bare hands
Burns up through your ribcage, your heart,
Until smoke drifts out into the open air
With the song that flutters out of your throat, your mouth,
To mingle with the smoke, the stars, the moon, the black night,
Fading into half-remembered forms,
The soft hint of a smile scattered in the nightingale breeze
When the birds start singing through the half-formed mists
Of soul, memory, smoke, song;
The gentle crackling of the world’s fire in your gut
And your hands: singed, blackened, burnt;
You walk around
Haunted.

Setting snow on fire
The suffering, that is desire.
Burning, never needing starter
Only growing larger,
Not even wavered
By the laps of water

I’ve never really liked candles
They’ve always smelled of a kind of peace that was always just out of sync for me.
They’ve always felt like the kind of gift you get from someone who doesn’t care to REALLY want to know you.

I light a candle every night now.
He says he likes the way the flames dance across my skin.
And now they’ll always feel like I can find peace as I sleep.

hole in ground that's dug          
at racetrack where cars are fueled
is  the plum's seed, pit

you tell me you wish to develop cancer
I hate you for saying that

my mother is dying from brain cancer
and you have the audacity
to say you wish the same for yourself

I pray to any higher being
that you learn how much
you've hurt me for saying that

it just feels sickening and painful
to remember a childhood so painful
that when I remember it
it feels choking to even think about
its like when i talk to my therapist
i can even feel her recoil almost.