Glass:
cold and smooth,
showing both a blank expression
and a black beyond my face's reflection:
stretches for miles from me to you, the cold
permeates the Glass
into my fingertips, saps
the remnants of you:
the warmth left tingling in my
follicles, fading
from affections, from loving caresses,
from softly wading
into beautiful sun-streaked waters
in our minds, together,
our heads locked forever,
I remember
touching Glass and staring down
the miles from me to you.

The sky
speaks my spirit.
Look at the sky.
Look at the sky.
Cool wind, high clouds
framed among moons

Why
is a cloud?

Why
is my soul?

Shhhhh
the warrior-angel
shimmering
between closed eyes and tears

The pain moves through you
like clouds
before rain

Why? wonders
like a child
I am a child

There are more things to wonder
about

reflections in the surface of a
rock

moonlight

footsteps echoed in the
starless sky


The clouds
Let me be in the clouds

There is no pain in a picture
nor growth

Watch the sky move
constant change
the rains

Pain, release, growth
brings the rain
I am a cloud.

A shadow:
some great bird of the
now clear sky

Where
are the clouds?

They have no home

I have no home

no home in one place

You have the kind that travels with you:
a heart

spoke the stars to my soul.

Butterflies and crows circling the water
Dive
headfirst, closed eyes into the ocean.
Fly.

Rest easy
my
dearest;
how I've missed you
but only the physical things
only the ****** things

I'm objectifying you
(....how rude)



I'm riding on the waves of creation
fixating on free form and relation
with Self

Life is animated now, see the things
that we missed?
Life is kissable
It tastes salty and beautiful like seafoam
and sweet like spring blossoms

I'd offer you my hand again, but
last time you drug me down
This time I'll offer you sand instead,
and castles and sunshine
and smiles.
They're free,
you should try 'em out
sometime, baby.

There's no rush.
The sun will be waiting whenever
you wanna mosey over.
The time for moping is over.
Your misery can be over,
snap
That moment is over
That second is over
Your entire lifetime up to this point
is over

What's that you said about new beginnings?
Finding new things?

Dive in, head first, eyes closed,
towards those things you're seeking.
Don't ever stop

Don't
ever
stop

dreaming.

Soft against my skin: comfort
because I don't care to pretend
or put on a show, and be pretend
or put on a mask, and be pretend
That **** shrinks in the wash, too
and faces aren't supposed to shrink.

There is that supposed to
supposed to straighten up, are
you trying to stoop? are
you trying to look uncivilized?
Power creates fear, but power
is our own illusion and
How does a brain incite fear into a mind?

Soft in a caress and laugh
we'll bypass power and fear
or cover our ears with our blankets
the world happens in a whirlwind

I missed it; I was too busy
finding happiness.

remember fear  
       trying       time            away  
perfect  laugh  another way  
may
-be

hopeful foolish ties
       trying      time  
                                           away
pray
-be
saved


memorable words, counted counted
added up
need to be SHOUTED
shout shout
but we don't
know what we're about.

I write because I care and I'm often afraid
So here's to the start of an honest relationship.
Because it would be nice to have someone write you a poem. Nice, but not necessary.
Here's to freedom, independence, and breaking the rules.
Here's to loneliness, and getting through it.
Here's to learning constantly.
Today I'd like to write myself a poem.

I want to tell myself that the way my eyes glinted in the sunlight today was like fresh daffodils bursting straight out of the winter cold
that my smiles were contagious, soft, timeless, and beautiful
that my footsteps caressed the ground with all the bliss of triumphant, free happiness and well-wishing,
that brightness spread in my wake,
that I glowed.
that I made a difference.
that everything up to this point led to a fractured-but-still-beautiful-for-it picture
that every single one of my ideals is beautiful, that my yearning for the world to feel loved is seeping out my pores,
that someone cried joy to remember that people connect
that words leaped out of the page and helped someone connect

Hon, you're great how you are.
You're most beautiful when you're happy.
I like you better when you're laughing.
When you're in a bad mood, you're kind of whiny...
But thank God you're not perfect.
And thank God you don't pretend to be.
And life is hard, but it's better that way. So keep walking.
You know yourself better than you think you do.


These words could be whispered, or written, or sung
whatever helps you listen
alone never are you..you are never alone..never..are...never..alone.. ever
You are never alone.



Written May 3

Her fingers touched at black-and-white,
caressed candle-flickering light,
glanced across a scattered scene
and picked out words, from inbetween
the spaces in her sight

The sofa screams, her daytime dreams
are faceless in the night

Trusts to fail or feel, a rusted wheel
of claiming wrong and right

Close the circles caught in knots behind her eyes,
open up to shrinkwrap sighs
grow the glowing trail of colors
twisting in the air outside: and rise
the sun is in a pair of eyes
a web of words, an unknown prize,
and hours away
a person reads, and cries.

To those who like
(you could say I'm fishing
to see who's)
reading between
(paying attention to
the meaning of)
the lines

There is no
.
to this poem

In all my life I never tried to
.
out the wisdom I didn't know

I re
ac
(hed)
ted
the wrong way a few
x

I still do at
x
but I care about *s
and try not to care about #s

I pay attention to i's
both of them

One day someone will find me in the
lab
r
(nth degree - the lengths I'd go to to hide and wish to be found)

I think that's the
.

That's what I would paint you as.
Bold and bright red.
I think that's why you like them:
not because of the taste, but because they're the closest nature comes to telling your color
And I know you've got a thing or two against nature.

If I were Deaf I think it would be easier to look you and everyone else in the eyes.
I'd sign that I love you. And I'd sign a joke.
I'd say I'm proud of you,
and that you can do better.

I think you want to be that bright-red
confident
desirable
intense,
intimidating

want to be de
                       vo
                           ured

and secretly you dwell on that bitter-inside-of-your-seeds
that crunch, you imagine people might tire of returning to you

I just wish you knew that nobody doesn't eat pomegranates because of the seeds,
it's because they have to spend forever peeling away the outside just to get into the wonderful insides of it; they have to cut into that beautiful exterior hoping that the inside will be just as bright
and let's just say more people go for the red apple

I'd like to one day call you an apple
It has no secrets
and it is just as beautiful

Laughing fear away, away
Words can't feel nor can they sway
Preaching orders to blind reporters
"Stay, don't stay, and never
ever pray"

Depravity and gravity, stolid,
You can't pretend these things aren't solid,
An idea is an idea
was an idea
was once a thought
and then forgot.

****. Yes. I'm -
my sorrows away. Wrong -
myself into a black hole of
shame that I want to crawl out
of but can't
or, wishing
for someone to pull me out but
don't actually believe anyone will give me a second glance - please -
but please don't -

caught between
help me
and
don't look at the mess I've made
the mess I am
a mess of a person who's
destined for
lunacy

Cries stuck in my throat
next to things
coated in
shame and years of steel-plated
heavy moments and

tears tears tears
I wanted to cry but couldn't
my face grew heavy with
tears not spilling out
can't lift
let me fall
pick me up
don't touch me

I don't trust you

run
I can't run

I write about pieces of the world I'm not a part of

glass - looking through
glass - broken shards on the ground
at my feet, in my knees
broken skin
bleed
broken heart
bleed my soul bleeds
I wish I could seep out of my skin
and be blood and

not think
sometimes I think these things

The sky is the only thing that can hold me
The ocean is the only thing that can hold me
The trees are the only things that can hold me

light is fleeting

Heavy lids, lighthouse waves sputtering on the stone between steps,
the sound strangles you / breathe silently
exhalation loosens your limbs longingly.
Rhythms break the continuous system /
derivations of wordly conditions /
crouching tense in the reeds, jump to break gravity /
crouching beneath the monitor, ready to cut wires /
snips bright white
chunks of
hair on the tile.

crow in the field.
wide skin exposure; long exposure of the moon,
white crow in the room,
pecks asbestos off the ceiling.
soft and crumbles and
lands on the
tile

steps on the asbestos on the tile

I can feel your fingers from miles away
I can close my eyes and feel close breaths in memory
and tingle as if closing the space of centimeters

In my daydreams we collide in an instant
In the nighttime my eyes are dripping,
your lips on my forehead

I feel heartbeats in my steps,
I feel spaces in between everything-
too large, but not empty enough to be an escape

In lust I can express my sadness
In knowing eyes that understand too well
In the motion of waves, and salt water

Let's move together and hold each other's sadness
In the space that once contained love
In the space where two children continue to grow up

In old friends that don't take moments like these for granted
In old souls that are frustrated with the woes of adolescence
In an answer to a question that was never asked

In heartbeats sensed from less-than-centimeters away
and spaces filled in
and tongues locking fiercely, then softly, we'll part.

And the wind will sigh and we will take it for what it is:
exactly what we needed.
I'll see you when we've found ourselves.

It's been a long time since I've looked at myself in the mirror and asked who I am
prodding a reflection to see how long it takes to change

That kind of thinking follows you- it preempts every step-
step-
I'm swallowing confusion whole. In a daily pill. A color for every feeling.

I was thinking about my circular habits when I caught myself there, again,
a black hole in the glass fragmented like..
children, transposed against war
myself, the child and the war-maker begging for peace
the harsh lines cut across valleys of wheat

cut me down, I'm begging the blackness, make fault lines out of my hate
across my body, slash my body, curl up and disappear into my body
take my body and teach me to float
I'll volunteer my soul in the name of love, lovers, loved, loving... forgiveness.
and float there in a dream that a human doesn't stand to realize any time soon, I'm sobbing for my lost dreams and stuck in my own memories, I mean --
I fool myself sometimes. Because things are harsh and harshness is perception. And connectedness comes from letting go. And ******, I've been stubborn since birth and I was stubborn when I knew God and I'm stubborn now I don't
I don't
I don't. Tell me what to do, because I'm tired of beating myself down


I once tried starving myself raw
and realized the hard way it was never an option
I miss that kind of numbness. I want to believe that the ones I want to see know how to look past skin. I'm - wanting - to float. I'm... wanting. I'm wanting in components of human nature lack lacking lacking love

I
never ever would have ever admitted
self in grounds of coffee. down the hatch, down the drain, downing levels of consciousness as days homogenize and fears are realized and
slowly drowning time
rationalized
mine
body is mine
body is dying, legs are dying, eyes are dying, drooping, dropping like flies fl-fl-fl-flying
to fly
dreams of flying
I had dreams of flying
I have dreams of flying and every day I'm dying


This is blackness reflected back. apathy.
warped cognition slides through me cold
I don't know how I got so old

In all honesty, I've loved you since I first knew you.
I love you in the ways I don't know how to love
and in the places I don't know how to look for
I love you in the ways it hurts to communicate
and the places eyes are most powerful
and colors, the colors you paint behind you
and wings - I was searching, you showed me roots
and that growth stems from groundedness
and that circles are everywhere

I want to be in a circle with you
It's a sort of unformed dream, where I imagine
I might not need to be constantly moving

I love you just looking at you
eyes soft and
something hidden
we don't need to speak
I just want to kiss you

holed inside, cornered, focused
paper pops into my eyes
lines on lines

headphones in, beats in time

turn my head:
windows
and grays
and rains
//contrast with fake-warm lighting:

is the most beautiful awakening


.


((I'd love to go dance in the
rain, will you join me? Stare straight up
and get that freshly-drizzled feeling
in my fingertips and
weight my eyelids
closed, happily--
motions: feet moving of
their own accord
            stomp
                      in
                         puddles
                   laughing
            into
      childhood memories --
I'd love to bring you back
with me))


a happy interlude
cues:
plug out
remember there's a whole world out there
grin
plug in

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

This stagnancy is a hate crime, colored red and purple like the bruise on my hip that grew and grew from crashing into the floor, until it could have been a painting made from squashed grapes and cherries.

It expanded with my fascination and my sickness. I was the hawk watching, the worm writhing, the fly that buzzed waiting for blood to spurt from the
Colors:
were my eyelids and, soon enough, my blanketed warmth, consuming me
whole.

Then the water came rushing, running down my face in torrents to hide my tears, down my spine to shock my shivers loose and away: I stood up in the waterfall and opened my eyes and
Awoke:
in my skin, alive, laughing, dry,
whole.

I still get bruises, but I'm healthy.
I don't cry, I speak:
with the words I am trying to learn.

I see you while you are in your deepest blue
slipping in your daze
here a ribbon, here a shoe,
here again forgetting, too
haphazard in your haze.

I see sadness in a city
sleeping through the day
missing beauty, what a pity,
sunshine never seemed so pretty
untouched, unseen in every way.

I saw redemption and I smiled
fleeting as it may be
here acceptance for the defiled
the raging rebel wild and another unborn child
love in all simplicity.

I see your eyes turned vibrant, bright
I see your face once more alight
I see broken bones repaired
I see purity in those who cared
enough to themselves forgive
enough to again live.

[civiliz]ation made of a large
[popul]ation of people with tendencies of
[segreg]ation with no purpose and
[condemn]ation that just hurts us
[transl]ation: [****]ation


(suffoc)ation prevents (revel)ation

The sheen, shining silver of metal
warped reflections

The unseen spider creeps
from
        corners
                     unquestioned

                 infecting
            
        thoughts


A foreign liquid fills the test tube, let's drain it
take it in shots to change the world
take in in red eyes and wrinkles and teeth


Nicotine


Smoke down the drain, emotions in the air,
creeping fears with spindly legs
down my neck
swallow the mucus
Entwine into a cobweb
Die internally several times

This is the roundabout way of discovering life
This is my roundabout way of saying I'm stubborn
and hurt, and confused
and completely fine.

The storm is brewing and it's peaceful in here
There are laughs to be heard, somewhere
and it's peaceful in here
When the wind hits, it's contained
shelved books turn to tatters in my brain

musicals lyricals questioned insane
was the girl who slid down the mountain and landed in shame
at the foot of the grave of the days that made gains
at the back of her head, memories plated in fox fires and red
cheeks
creeps
cheap - you gotta be to survive, sometimes,
right? Freak?

Strum, I'll strum my fingers numb
or teach myself how
Now
The window is breaking under the pressure
A million pieces of my heart are plastered on the walls,
on the floor, in my calls
lost to the no ones I shouted to

Pillows
Things to grasp onto
Holes to tip-toe-topple into
What have you got to lose?
said the girl in the straightjacket whose
shards of hair flew past your periphery
like diamonds shattering in the moonlight

out of sight
out of sight
what is sight?
I heard a shriek-

stricken sighs
eyes
eyes
i's

Stop predicting bad things.
Blink.
Step forward or you'll sink.

The air is around us
The air is surrounding you, you're alone
The world is around me, am I home?
openness - vast, deep, incomprehensible
swallowed my stencils and connected
my pencils to paper and then

opening my mind to the stars
'thank you' spoken softly
unguided but for the shadows cast
on the ground by the clouds

ghouls glittered in the moonlight and
drifted into the cedars

I always somehow missed your passing silhouette
but I saw your eyes cry thunder,
saw your sweetly shivering pen-scratching-paper
in the cold streetlight

I never thought I could feel so disconnected
                                                                I was wrong.
                                                                ­For that and for other things. I

meant to share things. With you, with anyone I
           meant to do things that are worthwhile I
                         meant to find the things worth living for I
                                      meant to grasp the hands of the world tightly and never let go
I didn't want to be swayed,
and I'm swinging at the whim of drifting cobwebs


I found myself on the concrete again, tonight, throwing questions at the sky
The parts of myself worth keeping are atrophying, I thought
So I thought some more.


EVERYONE deserves love. I'm tired of scratching the snow waiting for an answer. I want the world to change. And it's not me, it's the rules that broke me. It's the rules that bent me into un
                     rec
og
niz                able
shapes.

So then Why, I asked. One word. Crumbled as the cold set in, and I cried in the moonlight.

That was when I thought of you and the things left unanswered. Mostly I use you as a way to think about myself. When I was with you, I stopped asking questions, I think.
I need to learn how to be alone. I need to learn how to be with people and not stop being. I'm raging so freely lately that I'm dreaming again of you and of the times I kissed you and the times I should have, but mostly of the time I left you...
No regrets, hon, no matter how much it hurts.


So.
Here, again. Alone, again. The apathy is back.
Sun on my back, moon on my back, cracks
in my skin. You win.

It's like this I've been
trying just to hold your name
in my hands
for a minute.

Before they were close,
(and you were closed),
I soared with dreams of clouds.
I pulled them to me,
they passed me by and brewed into grey.
A hurricane crashed against another shore.

Even the slightest sunshine breeds confusion, in places like this
drizzles of complaints, dazzled me white,
you drug me down. I cried floods about
rivers soaking rainbows through the streets somewhere else.

It doesn't make sense, this other-world where
the sky throws tantrums and people hole in
and life goes on
and people like you don't communicate,
don't ask about the sky and its sorrows and the wandering stars,
don't ask about the gray and brisk and colors,
you of all people I thought appreciated, at least, the contrast.

Well here's a contrast that you're obviously oblivious to:
silence.
The sirens have stopped.
The lights will rise with the sun while a city sleeps,
walls on the ground. Switched perspective.
Broken glass...
remembers sand and the origins of perplexion.
I am a grain of sand, softened to sweet simplicity,
flowing through rivers and settling in a new home.
Alone,
and alive.

Look, I just want to be childish and sunshine
running through underpasses playing with paper planes
dragging you into the snow because
life is something to celebrate

A long time ago
I found myself there, with you
me being me
you being you
The cold night warmed my rusty insides
It wasn't so bad

But the world wasn't all that, love
We can't stay so sheltered forever
This last storm rocked a city cold-
colder than can be considered warm, I mean-
and while I want to read your words and remember your breath and bones
and fall into you I'd really just be
falling
nothing romanticized about it.
No one wants to leave all of their solid ground forever.
some of it, yes, but not all of it.

I've always been an all-or-nothing kind of person, in some ways
but life is about letting parts of yourself go
so you can grow
and I can grow

We're just two plants, you and I
not in the same pea pod, or even the same planter
but we both miss summer's glow and are jealous that our neighbors are sprouting flowers.

And at the end of it all, we'll both be fine.

I'm still stony from the storm.

Sitting cross-legged in the grass. Half of me is underwater.
Half of me sings praises to the sky.

Staring at empty hands:
all I need is air, world, here is my cup.
Offer my tears to the ground,
all I have is flesh and I'm sorry.

The familiar is translating into a shifted perspective,
mapped through my hazy half-watered views.
Questions bubble to the surface, they always do.
What is you? What is me?
Who are my companions, here?
Hands shrivel to a close, I am empty somewhere

so many of you: hiding your sorrows in the drink,
in the non-speak and waters-flowing-greening-the-path
of self-discovery-through-phase-denial;
pain for later,
pancakes for now.


I am so old,
my wrinkles are bared in the sun-exposed rock,
heart beating beside me, cup full of storm-water
and storm-blown watery eyes
dripping softly into the scenery
behind me

the world is infinity

next to that I am a pinprick that never fully bled nor healed

I pay attention
Words are in my head
Like roses
Like thorns, from roses

We notice, as humans, without acknowledging
Secret moments
I noticed
You noticed
The silence of
you didn’t sign my card and I noticed
you missing at the congratulations party
and I, moving away
from you
and I, making connections that needn’t be

mentioned - forgotten?
Or stored, perhaps, away with other reasons to feel lonely
Or swallow away loneliness
On a Saturday night in January.

Search terms “shallow”
Shallows shadow sorrows
Foregone by furrowed brows and questioned messages
Shallows bury questions
I tried to bury shallowness with fury

I'm trying to listen

Copy and paste, print, sign, scan, send, print, sign, fax
I suppose your strange routes of communication are only as complex as my ways of receiving them

speaks the sepia soldier, what say you-
the grass no longer greens
nor is greener blurred through waters-
temperatures rising tasting compromising flavors
savors sun-kissed fables
staples followed Mable
Mayflower, spring strings with color
streaming ribbons gleaming
glass against fingertips
and breath- like a tiger, or a rat
frantic like the dying man's last rap
prayers echoed like-
air.
falls from the precipice to another peak,
"we never speak"
precious, precious, pretentious
quote us phrases, lay we down like concrete,
in concrete
surrounded by concrete where we'll dance and it won't matter that
we aren't dancing

Two strangers stand looking at a painting
He thinks it looks like a tree;
She thinks it looks like the ocean;
They both see rain and miss the sun.

Simultaneously they touch glass and gasp
Because the mirror squeaks like their brains
and they only just realized they weren't listening.

It's these cold nights
hours spent
alone typing furiously
spewing a painting of
words of the scars on your face
and the millions of
reasons I want to hate
you
splattered on the screen

but you and i know i can't
paint worth a ****
or express myself even through words
even though they are all i know any more
because i'm too busy thinking

see what i mean

I'm tongue-tied
I've lost my words
What's to say?
Nothing
ing
ing
is not enough of an emotion to wake me up.

I'm too used to falling into nothing
I'd like the impact
Pain is at least
Something.

I'm too familiar with too many questions and tangled excuses of why and how or what to do next or cause and effect and the point, I suppose, is that
here, now
is ALL there is,
is all there is,
is all there is,
and that thought could be all you ever become, your world could be a brain and nothing else, or this poem could be your moment, or you could read this poem and think of something else and be nowhere, you could see your reflection on this screen and be staring infinitely back and forth at yourself between you and your reflection and then what? Was there a purpose?

This isn't a poem, it doesn't take talent to ramble. This isn't a poem, three monkeys could sit with a computer and in an infinite universe this poem would one day be written without me. This isn't anything to remember or forget, it just is, and isn't that the point?

The crack starts beneath my feet,
weaves down the street,
ends in a shadowed horizon
Bleak
I'm five slips away from some sort of leap
One breath per beat, beat,
beat.
Small steps. Indecisiveness surfaces from the stream. Time trickles.
The river is behind me, I want to jump backwards.
Flip. Finally. Face up, **** up, fall. Fail. Flail. Fight. Faster. Faster.
Whispers echo across rocks.
Whines like sirens

My fingertips are encased in firelight
What have these hands seen?
They dance so freely

Fright in the form of leaden limbs
at the center of a maze
I want the water to take me away


Spinning blindly. Take a risk? Make a bet?
What are the stakes?
Cracks in my bones, fatigued from falling.
What's gonna break?

Eyes are unfocused, the world is a blur, my mind is a haven.
Heaven is a trap.
There is no map.
There is no road.
There are no rivers, no streams, no rocks, no echoes, no moments to take with me as I continue to fall.
Time never stopped.
Time never started.
I never stood still.


Take what you will

the wall is tipping she said
she stood, he crouched, she laughed
this height suits you she said

the world was spinning and they stood despite it
they stood because of it
the world was still they always said
meanwhile crawling
running hiking into the bleakest desert
the deepest tree-cave
now that i see no one i see myself she said

she ran
she ran like the world couldn't spin without her feet,
like the moon needed her sweat and sparks to grow again,
she ran like she couldn't stay still enough to look into
another pair of eyes

her feet collapse every night, the same every night,  the same every night, the same every night, the same every night

i've always feared patterns, she said

there are moments between breaths
and pieces of air between
strands of hair

and times when silence speaks

but really, your mind is
just used to being shouted over
just restless and lonely and
fogged over

there are seconds
and days and weeks
and years

and there are those periods of time
with no name
between pencil touching paper

echoes haunt the silence

We're taught to love straight lines.

It's this thought I wrestle with
as the road I choose turns and winds,
it's the 25-mile-per-hour speed limit kind,
it's so slow, so ****** slow and most
folks resent the view and miss the show.

Air compresses stronger than steel
at the sight of this mirror I reel
trying to find straight lines where none exist
trying to find the steps I missed.
Movement forms a breeze
of leave, and I drive.

Come
Let your contents drip out and mix with the paint-water
and clogged gutters and spit
come put your feet up before the flood

of times when the wind blew through
the curtains of your heavens
and song-sounded rain-washed
hard hats rusting like ravens' calls

rushed the rivers through your rocks
of granite and quartz and obsidian
and gold, under your fingernails
flaked and speckled the clouds

for shocks, the lightning stole your thoughts
the wind battered your brains
and tore your notes into colors
your keyboards and tablets and text-
message-rants with a time delay

flew off into the hurricane

so close to freedom yet
im putting up bars that dont let
in any light im losing sight
cant tell left from right
or wrong
wish i could sing it in a song
but i cant hear a sound
i only feel my heart pound
and my shaking cry
aimed upwards at a blackened sky
my bodys pinched from head to toe
and theres no room to grow
i cant even feel but for fear
and its only been a year

When the wind blows due west,
through the corn fields, past the seasons,
past years of the world building itself up into cities
past buildings falling down and people re-birthing themselves
past me, hardening through moments of loneliness
swirling around me several times until stone chunks fall from my face and
crumble into the ocean -
I'll wake up and find you

I'll be born in the ocean, next time
there will be other currents that pull me from my center
and push me in random directions
I'll find new explanations
and make friends out of fishes
There will be new expressions
sputtering from my mouth when I touch the air occasionally -
I will long for you

Catching raindrops in my mouth
Waiting for teardrops to consume me.
My body is broken.
Eyes are broken.
My only friends are numbers.
Aching bones, skeleton heart beats -
I will die before knowing you,

I think.
Warm water through fingers hits the sink
and drains.
There's always something to gain.
White ceiling touches white walls.
your name on the white walls

Soft hands : worth callousing
over and starting fresh,
rolling the dice I'd hope this time for a prettier mess
I only want to love

I am a runaway train
loose and accelerating
cascading down into oblivion
metallic scraping breaking twist and
I meld with the ground from the sky
no brakes to stop me now
no brain to feel regret, no soul
I am manufactured, fake
a product
I never had a heart to begin with.

Is this freedom?
Breaking away from my steel track
cutting a new path into the earth
leaving plastic bodies broken in my wake
They have no brain to feel regret, no soul
they were manufactured, fake
a product
They never had a heart to begin with.

I dream of nature pure
a soul unfractured
the fall of the factory
alas
the system only lusts
for efficiency, obedience,
uniformity
we are machines
ignorant of natural law.

All we know is fresh-baked plastic
served through metal bars with a smile
the system only lusts
there is no
love.

The colors dripped straight into my stomach
swirling into grey,
darker as the wind blows cold

This space is so familiar yet so different
and I'm still a stranger
or the strangest friend, to have noticed
the air tasting like nostalgia
tasting like thorns
tasting like blood

The clouds cleared but the rain
remained
the same

the same

You said my name
I wish you said my name

I turned around and swirled
with a rush of fabric and stone-cold
into the grey and took flight

it's worth
noticing                                                           the light
beyond
the lengths of
shadow

I'm still thinking, I have never
stopped thinking, thoughts
are clustered in my brain.
I'd call myself fragile, but
everyone is.
no one is.

I'm soaking in words like bullets
that shattered the windows in
my paper house
because they did and it needed
to happen and I knew it.

When the walls were crashing down
and when my skin sizzled off
layers of colors
I found a circle.

And i cried and cried
and needed no reason why
and it felt so good to feel
something so familiar
because all of it's true,
anything you or me ever say
to each other is true,
the sadness and madness and
dark and light and joy and everything
inbetween rays of sunlight and blades
of grass
whether or not they thrive
or burn alive with horrible screams
like terrors from my dreams

And as for absolution
I care more about thanking
the sun for making the ocean warm.

See what I see:
the trees clinging to these orbs of light
like spiderweb shadows cast by the moon
fingers once clasped, bent now to reflect
an eternal grasp
the instant illusion of age,
of near-death

the confrontation of another kind of cold,
the distant past and future
the distance between here and the horizon

Mental snapshot taken with shivers,
the tree follows me in whispers as my shadow shortens,
zipping my skin up to hide my heartbeat,
lock it away tightly,
walk into my footsteps
and the nighttime
swallows
the reasoned stillness
.
.
My recent stillness,
I notice,
reflects back at me in the
puddles left behind the storm
and the remnants of light flicker

like stars

hearts
beat
the rhythm
of
my feet

fading into the black and soft
and safety in the age-old breath of trees

I saw a leaf on the ground
stepped on, dry, cracked
and I felt sorry
But still it floated when the wind came up.

I saw the broken egg on the ground
below the nest
and I felt sorry
But still the others learned to fly.

I saw the ice cream on the ground
the child crying
and I felt sorry
But children are amazing; they don't stay sad.

In the middle of the desert
there is nobody
it is flat and barren, and the wind
stings with sand.
But still the cactus sings.