But who am I??
yelled into the sky silence


If I could
I would
take a snapshot of the falling leaves, swept with the gust,
sideways through postcards
above rooftops
settling softly, caught between the fingers of children on a playground
another picture of leaves scattered on the ground ahead of you before you leave home
scattered on the ground beneath you as you thumb through memories,
take the hand of a loved one,
and run singing into the night
the leaves danced with you in the night

The sky is black, gray, blue, and all shades of the thoughts that I've been unsuccessfully forcing away from myself
The clouds are heavy with melancholy
It makes me think of sweat
so badly wants to
drippppp and disappear, repeat
Buildings set in stone
Buildings are stone
brick, red, sandy, dust, chalk,
my skin is drier than it's been in years

If you look carefully you can just make out
the fabric of gold stretched thin and weaving through the air
I always wanted to believe we were all connected


Somewhere there is a desert full of air
and lonesome happily a cactus sings into the air

Every new song sounds differently depending on your perspective
I always wanted to be open to new perspectives
I was told to educate myself, and write every day,
and always always be kind
I see it in reflections when people aren't looking
Water muffles your bad intentions and everyone
looks good upside down, in ripples, with nameless lights
You eyes were alight the night I wanted to find you for the first time
You could tell -
and you ran

The night followed you
I watched you in the moon for months, and I cried into the thunder
The lightning shakes me with empowerment still
always
still always - the air is constantly moving, those pieces of gold
are like strands of hair trying to find lovers


I'll wait through the rain til my bones make contact with gold
I'll wait for shocks, I need to wake up and not feel alone
You haven't answered me yet

I wish I could see you in the deeper blue
tangled in strings, caught by your favorite song
pure
I'm afraid of lies, now

You should know after all this time that I bear my feelings very easily
that I'm learning how to close myself up bit by bit
for the things that earn it
too late, after I'm hurt
I'd say you've earned it

And I'm sorry
I don't want to lose you
I'm cold from the dry beatings
low blows
numb mornings

pinpricks away from happiness and I can't feel

pinpricks
the needle
he's cold, hard, and tempting

you're cold in ways I don't understand
with panoramic views
(prime real estate)
you're silver and gold, fighting inside your skin
aren't we all?
I'm tired of humans


This place in my head -
it's the needle ready to puncture my heart
it's the bits of an iced-over creek that are still running,
waiting to pool up, freeze, and crack

the leaf that's falling waiting to be trampled

I wish I could fall away so easily

Blah!
blah bla blah bla blah blah blah blah.
writing. words. periods. trees. sunshine. thunder. weight. muscles. smiles. grass.
colors. flying colors. paintings. art.
pain put into art. feelings put into
words. communication. the beauty of connection.
The constant of change.
The pain of constant change.
The way the world lights your soul aflame.
The way the world locks you inside yourself with shame.

The million ways to say
I don't know what to say

The relief of a space to ramble to myself. and for however much it does no good it does some good. if only to fill time.
If only to forget time.

Space. the vast places we find with our eyes. I search for more eyes. I want to see something deeper, to call myself deeper, to soul search like there's no waterfalls tomorrow to jump off, close your eyes, give in and take a risk for - like there's no somebody tomorrow to close your eyes and take a risk for -
like there's no somebody you're soul searching for

Feelings. crushed by small nothings. small, insignificant nothings folded up into shapes from 80% recycled paper and re-recycled, the same old same old same old things that we never talked about


Do you like your paintings hung straight or tilted?
I like them overlapping, covering the walls, I make murals out of pieces of art because I want to be a part of something special and I'm tired of words

Dark and beautiful.
Mesmerizing, the sounds of the earth that catch you sooner.
The bugs that sing to the night because air can't be taken from them.

My brow is furrowed. I don't know why. I'm not even thinking.
The emptiness is present
which doesn't seem possible.

The emptiness is present.

Bugs are crawling up my legs. Bugs are crawling in my ears.
The night is singing.
I'd like to live with the trees tonight. I'd like to grieve
and give solemn peace to the air
with the trees tonight.
I'd breathe every breath of my soul to the trees tonight.
And for once, I'd ask the clouds to completely cover the stars
as a sort of silent reverence for the ever-beating passion reverberating
through the silently clasped hands
of me, and the trees, tonight.

This is the dangerous part. The world swings you around and slaps you. The fatigue hits my feet before I feel it in my face

It hurts, the people I've touched along the way. Everyone is so hurt. Everyone is so hurt. The hurt ones came to me for healing, and sapped my strength. Now I'm scared. Now I hide. Now it shows and I'm ugly. Or I feel like I'm ugly, and I'm ugly. Or all of that turned around, painted on the mirror in another language, screamed at you while you slept. Screamed at me while I slept.

I love. I'd like to know how to love. I'd like to think I know how to love. I'd like to continue to learn to love. I'd like to help others learn to love. I'd like to be a part of something that is wholly, beautifully, love....



... this is like kissing? I'd kiss you
I'd love you and let you go when the sounds start
when the music starts
in
sounding
waves
hitting
our
ears
the
sound
of
sleep
reac­hing
our feet, reaching the moon the moon the moon
          the
moon

This is the dangerous part. You've been conceived and nothing will ever be certain, there will be no control, there will be nothing perfect, not even the people you love.

And it will be worth it

he said what do you feel when the wind blows
eyes out like the sun, back bent straight
coffee dripping in corners like moons in the nighttime

all I want is wine and poetry,
but especially wine
I said
thinking of kissing fingertips
and fingertips in my hair
and learning how to breathe

you get rusty, with the wind
I'm rusting in the wind
Even my fingers
breaking off and becoming dust
in the wind

Catching my reflection in the mirror, I noticed that I look beautiful today.
I look like still sadness, or slight grief, or a breeze through eucalyptus trees.
I smell like the sea.

I feel like a storm, or like the shore freshly pummeled by waves.

My skin is peaches. My skin is rain. My eyes are rain.

I want it to rain so that I can cry and belong. The sadness never stops with talking.
I'm talking all the time now
tying myself into knots and hanging my brain to dry when the clouds die

I'd like to slap you.
If only anger could boil over and burn our eyes and make us all forget
I would callous over my burns and it wouldn't matter anymore
Layers of burnt skin



I'm like an orange, I think. I'm easy to peel
and easy to eat away piece by piece