What would your 7 year old self say if
she saw you politely refusing your
favorite flavor of ice-cream
( Mint-chocolate chip goes best with
warm summer nights)
What would she think if she knew you drank
coffee black?
(You used to tell your mother that
it tasted like gasoline)
You skipped breakfast
(Your dad made pancakes every
Sunday morning)
Ran until your lungs couldn't
take oxygen fast enough
(No one is chasing you anymore)
Counting ever calorie
(You never liked math)
What would she say if she saw you hating yourself?

I know the toothless women
Who crumple on the streets
The rain bleeds through their cardboard,
The cold drips through their feet

I know the dying children
With anaesthetic arms
The angels crowd around them
With time that burns their palms

I've hugged the brainwashed gangsters
With money drenched in blood
I've heard their broken weeping
While digging up the mud

I've seen the starving faces
Of the tired girls at home
The broken, hectic psyches
That eat them to the bone

I know the burning poets
With a desperate thirst for life
The need for finding soulmates
That pierces like a knife

There's weary public servants
Who risk their lives for good
And prove compassion every day
Yet stay misunderstood

Human love is buried
Beneath the plastic weight
Of angry allegations
And a world that feeds off hate

These people may be messy,
But they're beautiful and real
With hidden dreams and secrets
And ability to feel

We have a place to run to
With lights of peach and gold
Where all the weight is lifted
And all our tales are told

We live in total freedom
So safe beneath the moon
And though it seems ambitious
Our dreams will save us soon

I see you see me
but see, you see me as 'them'
I see, you see them

She lives in his heartbeat
nourishing his blood
feeding it
keeping it warm
comforting it
walking through its halls
and chambers
telling it fables
only the stars
of the night sky know
in a language only the roots
of eternities flowers understand
keeping it safe
in the hours of sleep
holding it close and tight
through its moment of dreams
snuggling deep in its blanket
after a long
and well earned yawn
she closes her eyes and sleeps
then he walks through her heartbeat
and tends to her dreams
and nourishes her blood
bringing with him fairy tales
of warmth and comfort
anxious to yawn
and rest in her chambers
snuggled deep in her blankets
ready to dream of her
dreaming of him
dreaming of her
walking hand in hand
through the fields of forever
tending the flowers
found in the palms of eternity

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.