I don’t really listen
When you speak on your passions
Because I can't understand
I just watch your face light up
And hear the inflections
Thinking about how to live is an art
And how fortunate I am to love

I wonder if I tilt my head a bit on the side,
so my jaw would be angled just right,
so my nose would be touched nicely by shadows,
so my eyes would spark to lure the light-
I wonder if I walk a few steps towards, perhaps a few steps back-
I wonder if some type of arm stretch, or head rest-
will make you ask for my number.
And you- a fine sculpt of a man
do not need to do any but breathe then,
to have it.

Feeling sluggish as I go
Not enough energy for the day, you know?
Winter months pass by so slow
Lack of sunshine takes its toll
If I want to survive, I must take control

On doctors orders, I pack my bag and head to the beach
Hours later the cure for my mood is within reach
Where I will sink my feet in the sand
And fill my lungs with warm salt air, you understand?

The sun begins to bake my skin
Happiness rises within
What better drug to boost my energy
Than a healthy dose of vitamin SEA.

The helpless of my heart;
Pleads to remove these burdens.
My mind and I
Are having debatable
Conversations on whether I’m
Fine or not,
But my settings start to
Twist with my plot.
I was here,
Then there.
I’m so caught in my mind,
I didn’t notice the eye stares.
A normal day for me is rare.
Preparing myself for my long
Journey walk.
Only ashes and dust comes out
As I begin to talk.
Black is surrounding me with a splash
Of blood.
The insides of my hands is *****,
And my fingernails are full
Of mud;
From where I tried to bury;
My sins.
I try to drink my soul away
Just in case I don’t get in.
I close my eyes to a million
Memories,
Good and bad.
They flash before my eyes,
Like a movie being replayed.
The devil is feasting on me,
From Marci soul I prepared
And accidently made.
I feel homeless in time.
I feel I’ve been gone for
A decade.
Nothing will never change,
And my grin will remain false.
My pearly white teeth I smile
Will remain fault
To what’s hidden beneath.
My warm hugs I give for a greet,
Is only a cold shoulder I give
Because no one knows the
Real me.





-Marci H.

I feel the itch,
I try not scratch
scratches can heal themselves
cuts are not the answer
especially cuts made
by someone else

picking at the scabs
only creates a scar
now I only wonder
briefly
where you are

pick, pick, pick
scratch, scratch, scratch

you're just a memory
of an unwelcome rash

I run my hands
upon my skin
and try to exorcise
foreign anomalies

That would be
the traces of
your fingertips
which I continue
to feel upon me

pick, pick, pick
scratch, scratch, scratch

you're just a scar, upon my skin

I wish you were just a memory