Asunder
Birds of prey
Hard headed
Gravity
Incomplete story
In need of my
Sweet salvation
I can’t walk
On water
Wishful thinking
Out loud
Ringing the bell
Twelve rounds are up
Spiraling out
Of control
My crutch can’t withstand
The pressure
Like a stick of dynamite
Exploding daily
Fountain of youth
I’ll pass
I’d never wanna relive
All the unbearable moments here
I’ll never drink from the cup
Because I’ve seen more
Then enough of all this
So called life
For a thousand lifetimes in vain
Dead weight free falling
Into flames
Like a bomb
Falling from the sky
Catastrophic damage up next
Would you shield me from
Thee explosion
Before I fall  
To my demise  
Parachute open up your
Door to me eternally yours
I will be forever in your debt

I searched for your love
Down the wishing well
Every last coin
All I was worth
Tossed
Invested in hope
You went from a symphony of white noise
To plague of space in my heart
I was so thirsty for you
I guzzled you down
Tizzy and drunk on your silence
And for my thirst
It never did quench
Dry mouthed
And alone
I drowned in the idea of you x

I cradle hurricanes in my ribcage
while words swirl around my head.
I try to catch the good ones-
but mostly, I wish I was dead.

I do everything too much-
the joy, the sorrow, the dread.
Yet somehow, I’m never enough-
what a curious truth to be force fed.

If I laugh, it’s always too loud;
my mouth too sharp to make anyone proud.
Crying is a dangerous game,
I could sob away a city, drown in the blame.

My rage leaves no survivors,
as if I line people up on personal pyres.
When I vent, they hear preaching-
a sermon no one wants, a fear of my leeching.

I don’t love, I dissect-
obsessively search for the trap I expect.
I can’t just leave; I burn it all down-
the bubbly, funny girl wears a permanent frown.

I do too much and my inner child feels seen,
She's acting out, we aren't this mean
I just get scared when the vibe is off, and ruining the mood makes the blow more soft.

Despite the chaos I still crave love, an equal partner, wearing fireproof gloves.

when you understand my poems perfectly then,

their utility is inutile,
their usefulness is, will. always be, in the

nth  

reinterpretation, a million and still counting,
as long as you must guess at its labyrinth inner wired construct,
be pleasured by the roiled and rolled curves upon your tongue,
two lives (yours, mine), a paired wine tasting, we together,
believing in the greatness of joyous frustration

some say, as I do, the world is better for the
utility of thine own struggled understanding,
the truest combination of two way communication,
surpassed only by our at last armed embrace,
when at last we understand our mutuality of need and salve...