I am a filing cabinet
seldom seen but in parts
often rifled with blameless disregard
but with you, I am all apart
every piece separated from all others
and tagged, numbered and defined
to every bit of even the smallest *****

for you each single sided sheet has been splayed
with paths weaving throughout
covering the floor of a gymnasium
colour coded lines directing you section by section
divided by arbitrary themes
whose contempt for regularity
occur solely so as to benefit your discovery

by the entrance of the labyrinth
stand many racks of pamphlets
each showing different routes
but all ending in similar places
a tour guide or two even
ready to answer all your questions
and handy with maps

which will show you to whichever part of me you wish to see

Sand-crusted catacombs of dismembered dreams
Settle beside memories of the child who grew up

In rocky Harpswell, Maine. Not many beaches,
Only a foggy stretch beyond Morse Mountain --

But I used to stand ankle-deep
In the water, wait until my toes sank

Into crystalized Earth
And bubbles from Littleneck clams.  

I’d stand there until goosebumps spread upon
My blanched legs, rising up, up, like the artificial hills

Of Maya Lin’s Storm King Wavefield.
Now, when I lie alone,

Misplaced inside a vacant Manhattan studio,
I surrender to sirens and accelerated lives.

Peace comes in painting – thick oil,
Violet and claret on stretched canvas,

Depictions of neon signs and cityscapes,
Cheap t-shirt stands on street corners,

And 24-hour coffee shops with “specialty”
Blends in little white travel mugs – selling

To flocks of strangers, strutting like pigeons on cement
Sidewalks, pretending they belong.

You do not know pain
I repeat
You do not know pain
Not until you have watched the words "I do not care"
Fall out of the lips of the person you hold most dear
You do not know pain
Not until they look at you and smile
While you fall apart
You do not know pain
Not until they act as if the world is well
As yours comes crumbling around your feet
You do not know pain
Not until they have nothing left to say
Letting you pour yourself into apologies you have no right saying
You do not know pain
Not until they ignore your very presence
As you walk around turning into the ghost they want you to be
You do not know pain
Not until your love and your heart belong to such a cold soul
A cold soul that once warmed your insides and reminded you of hope
You do not know pain
Not until they steal your last ray of sun
And give it to someone who once meant nothing when you meant the world
You do not know pain
You do not know Pain

numbness to pain does not make it
non existent
floating imaginations do not make them
unreal
(h)arsh reality does not make it
fiction
big dreams do not me(a)n they're
unattainable
high **(p)es do not mean you're
delusional
sadness does not mean
depress(i)on
happi(n)ess doesn't have to mean you're
bipolar
wanting more do(e)sn't make you
ungrateful
and all these words that (s)ociety uses against you
to make you feel

weak

unaccepted


vulnerable
&

broken



di(s)card them.

all you need,
to be happy
is positivity

*this is my promise to you.