They ask me what I see,
What I see when I'm dreaming,
What I see when I'm listening,
What I see when I'm writing,
But I don't see; I understand,

I understand how minds work,
I understand how hearts work,
I understand how my world works,
But I don't understand them.

Why can't people accept it?
Why do they need to know why?
Why do they want to know?
But they don't want to know why; they want to know what.

If I see their futures,
If I see the dead,
If I see words before me,
But I don't see; I understand.

So when they ask, what do I see in you?
I don't reply. I smile,
Because when I dream,
And I listen,
And I write,
You know what I see?
What I've always seen:
You.

If I could just borrow your skin
In hopes I'll learn to love mine again
Holding your tongue would occupy
All of my time
I'm the weight on your shoulders
Keeping your mind set, grounded again
Callous your words
So you can say they weren't supposed to hurt

Trust me or don't
I know you won't

The rain warped the cardboard
Wings that we tried to build
So you filled in my gills
With cement; Watched me struggle to breathe through your guilt

Trust me or don't
I know you won't
It's the difference between us both

If I could just borrow your skin
I'd know where you've been
And make sense of all that you know
But would I miss my own?
Would you miss your own?

There are always Hannas in wars
wars existed before her name—-
like clay, was shaped by mouths
in different lands and vernaculars
—-ripe in the kiln,
to be shattered by the killings

Hanna

was whispered by fathers
by mothers, torn from a sister,
a brother…

There was a war without Hanna,
she left
and took the battlements
between her breast
like a secret

and learned that it could
fence a garden.

My friend’s name is Complacent
She’s really just okay
Her voice is monotone
When we go out, she stays

She never gets wound up
She never gets stressed out
I’ve never heard her grumble
I’ve never seen her pout

Complacent likes to sit
Complacent likes to chat
She brags on why she’s better
I’m not buying that.

All you ever believed was untrue

Conspiracy theories are happening to you

The planets line up and the heavens collide

Your only saving grace will be an open mind.



What If?



Fairytales were reality,

Misery nothing but a falacy.

Fear is an entity fed by inaction,

Bad luck is repeated by law of attraction



Have you ever stopped to wonder,



What If?



That is certainly something to ponder.

LOOSE-VEINED and languid as the yellow mist
That swoons along the river in the sun,
Your flesh of passion pale and amber-kissed
With years of heat that through your veins have run,

You lie with aching memories of love
Alone and naked by the weeping tree,
And indolent with inward longing move
Your slim and sallow limbs despondently.

If love came warm and burning to your dream,
And filled you all your avid veins require,
You would lie sadly still beside the stream,
Sobbing in torture of that vivid fire;

The same low sky would weave its fading blue,
The river still exhale its misty rain,
The willow trail its waving over you,
Your longing only quickened into pain.

Bed your desire among the pressing grasses;
Lonely lie, and let your thirsting *******
Lie on you, lonely, till the fever passes,
Till the undulation of your longing rests.