Play me a song and I'll dance for you
barefoot and twirling on kitchen tile
sing me a melody lilting and true
then take my hand and we'll sway a while.

Draw me in close as the beat takes hold
my head on your chest as we keep the time
We'll dance until dawn brings and end to the stars
then I will be yours and you will be mine.

A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't

I am scattered shards
many prisms
rainbow hues
cover black.
Blue ovals,
white circles
seek cures.

Words run deep,
cutting trenches
through scar tissue
best forgotten.

Untouched too long
by happy hearts
the broken self
Will sing once more.

Blindly into the black
Sensations muted
this patient
impatient, in-patient
writhes with silence
infested with love
yet tempted by the void.
Seeing all.
Feeling none.
Numb.
A state of delusion beckons
Serotonin downers
melancholy malaise.
Survival is key.

Get out of my heart
I dont need a reminder
Of the stone in my future
I dont wish to grasp you
If I cant forever

Leave me by me.
I was an onlooker in
wilderness of knees.

Primal truth is dead
I search peacemakers
of nowheres in vain.

Watch my loneliness.
A bronze elephant stands
still in dream traffic.

reflection, reflection
on the wall
whose the dullest of them all?
long faced and faded
loved but hated
pain, rain
go away
hide your face
discreet, strangely out of place
where are you, Chase?
are you mad at your race?
ashes, ashes
find your place
don’t be discouraged
don't be late
settle in your fate

nothing can tell me
what i should do
can do or can’t do
i want to breathe Earth’s untouched air
and climb the steepest mountain
i know it isn’t impossible
and lastly
i want to be myself
and love myself for it
and continue doing what makes me happy