Of course, I’m afraid of being lonely,
but I don’t fear being alone.
Solitude brings its own kind
of freedom, but I don’t want to be left
alone with myself for too long.

You are the poem
I will never stop trying
to write.

wear gloves on your hands,
leaving your eyes free to speculate
and your mind to record
the life of the plant;
and the life of the one who nurtures and tends

follow-from the fallow soil
to my edible plated consumption,
from the baby bud nipping
to sharp crack shot at picking,
to my tongue licking
both your produce and you

you may feed me poems
when the real harvesting is done,
grown in your own private plot,
from you, my good fellow,
follow with love delivered to
my expecting fallow-soul,
awaiting your seeding me,
and I,  
you...

she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink

she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.

My name is Erin
and i was *****
at the age of 7

it has taken me
14 years of my life
for those 13 words to escape
my hollow mouth

the only questions i come to now
is why
why lock me in that room
why take everything from me
my innocence
my purity
my childhood

in that room
where my family trusted you
where i trusted you
the night terrors i have to this day
still haunt my mind

like a never ending
drive in movie that plays
over
and
over
only the moon in the night sky
isnt made to be found here
there is no light in these terrors

i cant sleep this time of year
because every time i do
its you
in that room
locking the door
shutting the windows
******* me
yelling at me
every single night
i close my eyes

it has taken me 14 years
to accept the fact that i was taken by you
i have been numb ever since
left in the dust
rotting away at the core
thinking i was nothing
thinking i deserved nothing
because you took everything

but not anymore
i will recover from this
i am strong enough
i believe in myself
i believe in my own happiness
and i promsie
that when i have children one day
i will never ever let them rot at the core
i will find happiness
the darkness will not take over this time

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
the house is pretty
and so are you.

Orchids are white,
ghost ones are rare,
marbles are shiny
and so is your hair.

Magnolia grows,
with buds like eggs,
the leather is tanned
and so are your legs.

Sunflowers reach,
up to the skies,
your sunlight is dazzling
and so are your eyes.

Fox gloves in hedges,
surround the farms,
the return is safe
and so are your arms.

Daisies are pretty,
Daffies have style,
relations are friendly
and so is your smile.

A Rose is beautiful
just like you.

What do you feel
after losing this particular battle?
Sitting in an empty farmland,
a speechless sky.
Get up now.
Home is far,
your mother is dead.
You only want water right now,
not love not memories.
In this moment
air is existing better than you
the horizon is more depressed than you because it knows home is beyond
and others are dying
others will die before you
Home is far
the distance is not the issue,
realisation of stars in a lonely night sky is.
Who wants to walk miles
after killing thousands of bad monsters in real life?
Home is far, I know.
Home is believable.
Home is the light you see
everytime you blink.