"How are you
doing?"
is a **** hard question to
answer
Do you tell them about the girl
who didn't text you
back or the one
that did?
How about the weather?
it has been very nice out

next week doesn't look so good
should go hiking
more

it was a long day at
work
but you did hot yoga
Twice this week
and paid your student loan
only a week late

is it important that you're
sitting on the couch in
your sweats-
staring at the state of your life.

How heavy the days are.
There's not a fire that can warm me,
Not a sun to laugh with me,
Everything bare,
Everything cold and merciless,
And even the beloved, clear
Stars look desolately down,
Since I learned in my heart that
Love can die.

There is nothing left,
the world is cold,
Ponderous thoughts.

Life twisted into many knots,
Today may I be so bold,
as to look over the cleft.

Lean toward the chasm,
bring a smile to my face,
say hello.

Glare into the sun of yellow,
Stare into outer space,
Care to fathom....

The rain streaks,
down my cheeks.
Clouding,
In eyes of shrouding.
Dark days are ahead,
Replacing sunny ones instead.
Till the day that I will pose the question,
what are your feelings toward me?
It will end.

Shallow,
but a rumble,
that scratches at the surfaces,
growing, growling, rumbling,
till trembling,
ricochets around the cavity,
building up,
bursting through,
up, out, everywhere,
outside shaking,
heart quakes.

Like a twenty-two pound hummingbird,
is beating, flitting,
inside.
Thrumming wings,
sending vibrations,
shuddering.

The flower,
once filled with sweet nectar,
drained dry,
sickly sticky,
a vivid hue,
turned grey.

As the bear hibernates,
it's snores echo,
sending rattles,
starting clatter,
shatter.
My heart thrashes inside my chest.

I wish I was invisible.
I'd go out,
and wander the streets.
Perch on a wall,
and watch the world.
I'd meld with the rain,
and make indents into the snow,
"Ghost, phenomenon",
people would stare. But
I wouldn't be there.
I'd be gone, on an evening stroll.
Feeling the wind
wisp around me.
It knows I'm here,
and so does the rain,
Because I'm not.
I'm not see-through.
If I sit there,
and ponder my thoughts,
people would wonder,
a little, a lot.
And I would wish that I wasn't there,
that I was invisible.

It is not a call to arms.
It was not meant to be bellowed as that of a battle cry.
The first of thousands.
It was not an arrow.
Strung tight,
released,
seeking to damage.
It was not this.
Is it knowledge on the upper shelf that only those who put it there can reach?
Because a turtle,
who used to be a girl,
would like to know.

The sinking feeling of utter despair.
I pushed too hard and a wall was raised.
Simply put, I threw myself into a bottomless pit.
There is no light at the end,
where there was at the beginning.
There is nothing to touch,
what was left, has faded.
Tendrils, wisps.
Clawing through, around.
It is empty.
And Black.

I fear what I do not understand.