It's me, my skin, my bones, my mind
it's wrong, sick, distorted
Warped is the world seen through these eyes,
felt as it seeps into my pores
suffocating me, drowning me in acid
A moment is wrong and it's forever
I'll cry into the darkness,
"I can't hold the weight"
It echoes, reverberates, distorts and disappears, unheard

When darkness is my forever
and a struggle is a war that doesn't end
I am just a casualty

When life is a drama
and happiness is bitter and transitory
I am just an actor

Everything is real and nothing is real
Actuality isn't actual
The walls are bleeding
Barriers are breaking; or were they even there?
Secrets are painted on the bleeding walls
In a fleeting moment life is a war
How long can I fight?

I'm going to walk towards her
because I have this problem
that I need to face

I'm going to look up, and she will too
I know it's difficult for both of us
We are both afraid of strangers

We'll move in inches and crawl if we
must, and reach like
***** (is it pointless?)

Today I press my palms against cold glass
But one day I'll feel sunshine
and fingers.

It's true that
Love is everywhere...

but She goes cold when you turn away from her.

When you recognize Her,
the answer is to embrace...
to lean in...
to let her pull the glow back into your eyes,
the rhythm back into your pulse,
the heartbeat into your neck,
your breath.

There is no other way but to slowly die again.

When she shows up, it is a gift.
What a cruelty to let the ultimate gift pass by...
What a cowardice.
Her Beauty splayed before you, and your answer...

"Let me think."
"I don't know what I want."

As if there is anything in the world at all to say yes to,
greater than Life Herself,
full force.

A million writhing snakes, eyes glowing red,
gather in the shadows of your lack of action.
Warmth can become cold. Dread. Anger.

It would be wrong to say "I am angry"
and more true to say "The Goddess is enraged."

I, human, can feel her growing her poisons
for a woman scorned can become a
weapon of great and swift teaching.

Love is not to be dealt with lightly.

She demands Bravery and Immediacy.

There is NO more important work than to face her honestly.
She, who gives you the Truth more plainly than a mirror.
She, who cuts through the false ideas of the mind
with cold clarity.

And I, simply a channel, opening.

Great Mother, how do I show him? How do I do my part to bare you to this world, not only the beauty but also the terror?
That thing that scares great men into little boys, yet inspires boys to become men.

I can only sense it. I wish not to hide.
That thing that fear tries to put in a cage,
suffocating the world.

I.

Tick, tock.
Snakes on the clock. Brains. Skin. Air. Hair. Coils of fabric, and teeth.
Oxygen reeks. Stales. Pales and contracts.
Breathe nonetheless
Pull on a dress. Pull on a vest.  Step outside. Feel the wind.
Oh, the days I’ve spent-
Instantly forget.
Put on my face
Roses in a vase
Feelings cased in the closet
Filling space

Seems sometimes we’re just filling space
What a waste

…

II.

Deep breath
Rose-scent fills her head

This could be it, she said
You’re too pretty for that, he said
Black and white embroidered with red
The cold air stung her lips as she read
This stone is where I’ll lay my head
The ground is made of bones
She’s alone

…

Steps on gravel, sounds awake the night
Jump into the abyss? She might

Memories of childhood fights
Initial dislikes
Periwinkle paint sets and tights
Once, learning to draw a rose
Once, hanging onto a hose, drenching strawberries
With brother in backyard
Family is a golden memory
At least there are pictures

…

Boy
The first one she kissed on the lips.
It was a dare. Fleeting but his eyes dripped sweetness. Twelve years young? She can’t remember. She ****** the same boy, drunk, four years later. He wasn’t the first, though.
And he still seems innocent

…

Hovering tensely
At the half-open door
She’ll never feel loved again.
She said.
Aches. Heavy ferocity ready to tumble. Dread.
Wake-up song every morning in her head.
The ground is made of bones.
She’s alone.
I’ve come this far. Revs up the car. Tears down her cheeks.
Runs over herself repeatedly in the street.

…

Why so gray?
His lips hold secrets
Autumn hay-stack drenched in dryness
Cool but bright, he’s a working man with a voice made of sunshine
Her eyes twinkled hello at his fingertips’ first brush-by
Smiled and walked away
Perhaps another day

…

III.

...

Rain soaks my skin.
I was walking, computer and books weighted on my shoulders,
Lightning crossing my path
Relax
I’m visualizing math

The air is cool. The wind rolled darkness in on its back.
The storm is roaring and strobing the sky
I’d like to derive your kind
and the rhythm of my mind
From the grains of sand left behind

,

And listen to the song of the sea

.

And float in the lingering breeze
As the storm dies down
The night’s dying down
I’m counting for now,, and "you"
Are a ghost of an idea, wispy but fresh but

Unformed
Much like the memory of yesterday’s storm

...

As I was drenched in the shower I could only think about taking pictures of my memories and tearing them into a storm
A catastrophe -
I'd laugh.
I'd call it art.

This storm is ******* beautiful.

It is said that

Love is patient,
Love is kind.
Love sees only the truth, and leaves the past behind.

Love is only in this moment,
only and always in this moment,
through and through,

Love is the light that shines through the brick wall between me and you.

Where are you hiding, Oh Lover?
Behind a pile of rubble and poetry.
But you know, deep down inside, you can never escape me -
Me -
holding a memory of the truth between us
the moment where you saw me, and I saw you
and we saw each other, together

and in that moment,
there was a Spark of Life.

And I fell in!
And I went blind.

And it could have been the best experience of all time.

And then afterwards, reveling in the memory
but you, in a daze,
returning to your old ways.

How long will I have to wait for you to remember the truth?

The truth, that is the light that shines THROUGH the wall between me and you

But all I know, as long as I have to wait,

Love is patient.
Love is kind.
Love only sees the truth, and leaves the past behind.

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

He has a heart that
is pure
despite that day long ago
when his light was stolen
his heart broken
his reason for being gone,
leaving a hole in
his soul

He'll still eat dinner at eight
and cry into the late
hours of night

He was there when
her body fell.

i can trample grass and
step on bugs and flowers
all in an innocent evening
of lying in a field thinking
blinded by starlight
in my own company

but if i were to close my eyes
and if the creatures ceased their songs
and leaves ceased their rustling
and city sounds faded into my thoughts
then i would be left with myself

who then shall take me
if i am such sad company
to only me?
i make no difference for
stars or trees
or birds or bees

easy to arrive at the thought
that loneliness is less a problem
than living

tuck my face behind the camera
myself in the shadow of the corner
colors slashed on paper
fingers raw from the strings
my eyes heavy lidded,
I never knew that self-deception was such an art
or that my inner critic
was my greatest enemy

embrace change?
I always have

Now my throat sighs and misses joy
My limbs do not celebrate,
they yell to me
too quietly
my brain runs the show
It has run down the tracks
This is sly flirtation with death
stop talking

I want to listen to the water and the trees,
I am paralyzed here,
fear for the future

pathetic
screams the monster

pick myself apart at the seams
something birdlike and cryptic
but not beautiful

I wonder if you feel beautiful in your skin
as I sit in the lamplight, covering mine
watching limbs of strangers and friends
and feeling insignificant,
yet too large for comfort,
too large to be looked at,
too large to be looked past,
please.
Inside this small talk, I am screaming
inside myself
pleading with the world for a chance to start over,
please
just a chance to be normal
just a chance to be beautiful
please,
I just want to be a person worth loving

My plea hits the front of my mouth,
I choke it down, let it coil and drop.
Leaden and heavy.

...

The night drags, laughter presses on my silent lips
Drunken song fills the air
and I'm weighted by my own sharpness

I hope tonight that the devil finds me in my sleep.
I need to think about things.

He off-smiled
and she off-laughed
and they held hands and
walked through a Christmas-card-town
perfectly straight, perfectly perfect
legs perfectly in sync
leaving Kenneth Cole footprints
in the perfect snow
worthy to be captured
worthy of being envied
perfectly perfect.

They walked and were
perfectly off-happy
perfectly deceptive as they
simultaneously, wordlessly
wondered at happiness.

The wind,
In your eyes,
That night.

That was the first time I saw true passion in a person.
The first time I thought about what it means to laugh while swimming upstream.

Nobody forgets moments like that.
Your eyes seared
forever in
mine.

Gently scattered cares
floated away to find another soul

And I stood bare holding a flame

I was trying to shoot for the stars and
dream the way I did when I learned that caterpillars
grow up to be butterflies
I wanted to be a butterfly
I wanted to be beautiful, and proud, and I wanted to fly -
I miss that feeling.
Somewhere between there and here there were
tragedies and broken hearts and
things that I later realized ought have
been different -
Somewhere between then and now there might have been a god,
but more importantly there was some force causing the world to
punch me in the face
and Somewhere along the road I decided to keep
my shameful face pressed against the concrete

This is anger - this is shame -
this is hate. This is what I
bottle up and beat myself with under the midnight sun,
with the endless exposure, the loss of composure,
the fear, the constant
fear
of judgment - stare at me but don't look at my eyes
(I'm used to it.)
Look past me.
It will only drive the hurt deeper down, tightening my chains it's
not you, it's me. It's me against myself.

Pound, pound, pound the pavement against my feet -
can I run myself into oblivion? Can I please just close
my eyes and become part of the air around me?

the frustration kills me
I **** my voice yelling at myself
WRITE WRITE WRITE
write yourself into this feeling, if
it's the only way you know how to inhabit the present moment
**** yourself with caffeine and hate
and shame
I'm so tired of shame
I'm so tired from the weight of it
I'm so done with being hated but I
can't stop hating myself

I once dreamed of being a butterfly,
and now I dream of getting by
without hurting myself too badly

We're a little hiding
in our heads.
All of us.

i don't know why i
do the things i do sometimes
i don't know how to try sometimes
i only want to cry

i don't know how my head works
i don't know why so many things
hurt i can't think i can't
speak the rains that sting me
can't communicate across the gaps
between we

sometimes
sometimes i don't want to be
sometimes i wish someone would break me
sometimes i don't know how many times
i can't count seconds but i can count smiles
because there are so few sometimes my thoughts
are circles and knots that can't be unraveled at least
not by me but no one else is keeping track either and
i'll lose myself and keep losing myself and keep
coming to places where i don't know what to do with myself until i

fall

There's something not right -
There's something not right --
(It just isn't right) are the stars
misaligned is the moon
too bright for the night -
The clock ticks time by and
try as you might, there is no one to
fight
You just missed a step, or a blink, or
passed over-the-dregs-of-the-things-
you-looked-past-and-poured-down-the­-
sink
without thought
.
.
The bells fall silent to mourn the death of thought

The night

is for discovering by feel
instead of sight

With butterflies
rise, cries and eyes
closed eyes and sighs
and not seeing butterflies

With hands shake
fear of brake and break
and never take
and never feel fingers
only shake

And isolate within
a forced grin and sin
and sin and sorrow
and tomorrow beg
for dregs and borrow
further sorrow

And open rose
and moonlight close
for shows, and glows
and mercy knows
and heaven's prose
for butterflies and sighs
and opened eyes.

When I think about the things I did to you, it's like I've died and woken up at the same time
like crying for the first time, it's been so long since I've felt anything but this when your face catches me by surprise
like remembering a solemn moment of fingers slipping off the tablecloth without touching,
signifying nothing or so you (and even more so I) thought

once

many times

like realizing rain after you've been soaked through three layers of clothes, and having thoughts free of scorn even though it might be just like the rest of them to call tears a downpour.....
.......
So dramatic, and oh, the irony of every statement I could think of
like magnets, we seem to cause problems when we get too close
although you don't seem to notice anymore

*******, you *******
******* for being ****** up and not being able to be fixed
and not being able to fix yourself
******* for representing all the unhealthy relationships in my life
(read: ALL the relationships in my life)
******* for your two-facedness, for the things that were ****** up then,
for the things that are ****** up now and for
you pretending that it isn’t this way
pretending to be holding the truth
be speaking the truth
be slurring the truth
you are unknowing of the truth
I am not knowing of what’s true
and good,
but you are not it.

So leave, leave, leave, and take her with you,
and pretend as if you have me in your heart
but forget me. Please don’t speak to me.
And don’t cry to me.

And at some point, eat. And at some point, sleep.
Between the meaningless bouts of *******, *******, *******,
and pretending to be finding the things
you find meaningful
You haven’t thought about them in a while, have you

I’m angry at you and I’m angrier at myself
But at least I’m proud of myself
Because whatever hurts me now makes me grow
I can handle being alone and learn independence, and it will
be my weapon against you and everyone like you.

I don’t love you. I don’t know what that kind of love is and I hope to not find it for a while.

I think it
might have
maybe
been yesterday,
or the day before,
when it happened

Noticed the room was
different, and the silence was
all of a sudden empty

Realized what a glimmer is
because it
wasn't

Reached and grabbed air
felt my own nails press into my palms
squeezed my eyes  and i think a
tear dropped
swallowed into the hardwood and the silence

I think I stopped caring
I think I finally lost myself
in a memory forever
or a dream
it's so much easier, after all

better to be alone than to feel lonely...

there used to be a mirror in the corner,
and a window
i think i remember

i have scars from the broken glass
i'm white as a ghost
but i don't notice
besides, i'd rather not be
seen
i'd rather hide my red-eyed reflection and
the dust in my hair

maybe i died
but i don't know because that day,
yesterday or the day before,
i stopped feeling

perhaps it was
maybe
actually
a few years ago.

you, teeth and laughter
blowing soap bubbles to my brain
and popping into dust
silken fingers, your cheekbones
are art, falling rain, blooming rose
I want to catch you
but you fall (like raindrops) through my fingers
eluding me

I would softly touch you if you let me
I would kiss your wrists and collarbone
and eyelids, I would tell you
talking is only necessary when comfortable,
I would tell you all my secrets
I would share my swiftly beating heart
with your strength, and my lonely evenings
with your meditative mornings
I want to muse with you, and
cook until our skin weeps for love,
or our minds take us elsewhere

I imagine I would fall asleep early and
easy with my ear over your heart
I wonder how fast it beats
and what the chances are
that you're thinking of me

hopeless and exquisitely beautiful
the night is both demon and angel
for me, my aching eyes, staring too long
at the moon, thinking too hard my thoughts
swallowing too much the silence
to take it all in

I tire quickly, yet stay awake
alone with the night
the bugs sing to my spirit,
I am wandering out there somewhere,
somewhere I am in the forest,
somehow I am restful,
dying slowly, coming alive
My eyes are hollowed-out moons
My body is a fallen tree covered
in mushrooms and moss
One last sigh will let out my
soul to fly with the birds, and
the angel-song, and the sound
of solitary footsteps in the night,
footsteps on an overgrown path-
less-travelled

So much death and life
I might
tell the moon goodbye and say goodnight

Let's talk about the wind
No, the wind
I mean how it feels to feel your soul come and go like that
Look at me, aren't eyes amazing?
Wind on the water of your eyes,
and your hair is a flock of birds

I'm sure there is a pattern,
especially when I see you like this
dumbfounded
in my mind
I am a genius
and you are interested...

Goosebumps on that side of my body only,
and insides shiver with the rippling wind,
inverted shock wounds
chalk on my windblown ideas
stock humans
walking around all the time, cut and dry culture,
I want to learn to paint and I want you to be there.
I want you to be the Titanic
and admit that you are fragile
be ready to go when the iceberg meets you, there


Wind on the ocean
I want to sink,
because the ocean is more powerful than peaceful
and I am fragile

She realizes at some point she’s in dream and wakes up
Clenching her stomach, blurring her eyes
Covering her bruised body with shadow limbs
Silently coughing up through self-inflicted scars
Why is it so cold
Harsh sunlight with shivers in between rays
Green eyes like moonlight through prison bars
Leaden shadow limbs scrape the floor
Chalk writing in another language
Slipping on frozen marble, so cold,
So cold

Mice in her ears running, dead, multiplying
Whispers of her shame
Splatter paint on a nameless grave where
Bugs morph from the stone
Nightmares in the daytime between rays of moonlight,
So cold

I'm back in the fast lane,
I didn't want to do it
but I did, furious yet proud

Now all I want is the music, I want the tears,
the face of the drum
is bruising my hands

wanting to see myself hardening
calloused fingers, calloused mind
trying to feel from the inside out
sand myself down and raw and red
writing on the walls, remind myself that I
am black and wrinkled up inside,
not a speck of sunshine about it

if only as a reminder to look up,
and be inspired
because there is this thing about people,
they take the black bits
and plant a garden

so natural
to laugh the way we do.
so right to
look at your face,
imagine what it would be
like to touch,
imagine you close your eyes
and breathe softly,
and me, asleep beside you.
Why should I turn away?

sometimes wish you knew,
sometimes know you already do.
guess you don't say anything
because nothing can happen, but
I know that's not true.

moments, seconds, minutes
listening to your laugh ring
in my head
and feeling your breath on my neck
being happy
because I smiled
because you smiled
because I can imagine
your fingers in mine, and
the smell of your collarbone.

Kisses are only kisses;
wishing for tendernesses
and soft caresses in the light of
the moon

to wish the way i do
get lost in laughing with you
the way we always do,
so natural.

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.

Whistling
into vibrations
to create texture
to taste feeling
moving to feel temperature
air circulating coolly to touch extremities
to invoke shivers, to remind of smiles
to remember hands and warmth
hands and intertwining fingers
fingers, delicate and familiar
eyes, smiling and

dangerous
the void left in wake
the space of silence
the moments spent wondering
a lifetime spent wandering in search of
more

moments
the meaning of finding
the nothing to find but more things to explore
the spots marked by stopping to ponder
the pain caused by stopping to ponder
the connections that make shape
in the form of a

path
leading from place to place
person to person
challenge to challenge
wound to wound
stitching together flesh, rhythmically,
perpetually, while walking
hurting builds

strength
in the form of a hard face
longing to be broken
going all this time searching for a way to be broken
waiting for a person to share smiles with again
waiting for a place worthy of stopping
and removing gloves from lonely fingers
and sharing

memories
memories from solitude
from the years of

wandering
call yourself

wanderer
watching so long for a place to

pause
all nonparallel paths must eventually

cross
with kind

eyes, glistening eyes, breathing again
warm breath condensing in air
laughs radiating in air
moving to feel temperature,
to share temperature
moving to taste experience
slowing down to taste a moment
worth finding
with a person worth stopping for.

Remember me.
When your eyes are caught in the moment
by the fire of your own lashes,
the iciness of your breath and swallowing
your fears, facing your thoughts, surfing
through the city, flipping
notes and papers
off the skyscrapers
binders half-sunk into the concrete
I will rip your soul from those closed eyes if I ever
have a say in the colors of tomorrow
I will feed you grass
I can't be passive, I'll whisper
into your insecurities and try to make contact
with something

Tomorrow there'll be fireworks, lighting the
night, helping us forget
Something repulsive glittered into
the blackness like fireflies glinting off oil
We're all sharpening the edges
of the double-edged sword that plunges
straight through our bellies,
drips red off the back end

We're living off
the momentum

We spin off each other daily
laughs distorting around the
corners,
around the next bend there will be daisies
there will be daisies
there will
be

at least one of us

I can't stand the silence,
so I dance it,
I wanted to pull you in but you were too busy making fire.

I start at my feet
feel the pressure of the ground
and the leaves, and breathe

The sun drips into the horizon and blurs,
always does like that, the last rays foggy and golden,
always goes when you don't want it to go, you know?

when the air spirals shivers down your spine and you
wonder why you are so lonely,
when the world is so alive

Splash the cold
cold water spray my cold
cold day
FALLING into
Where is the
Who am
Blinking into sunshine
Runs the squirrel
Marry the lovebirds singing jolly?
Marred a fickle folly
Hummmmmming to clear
Chaos inside boxes
Flying rainbows
Touching rainbows dreamt the trees
Rooted sand slipping
Watch the children!
CHAOS inside boxes
FALLING that person over there
White faces turn away
Clasping air?
Water mind switch
temperature
orange yellow, breathe
jump WHY ask why
pills bones switch
gather hate
Splash the cold.

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

My wick is underneath the surface
trying to catch the flame

as the wall between me and the air shrinks,
the light glows deep
the sun penetrates me
the sea holds me here,
breath in my pocket,

and you are behind my eyes



I swear, I swear that I'm beautiful.
This time when I open myself
a thousand singing birds will
fly from me full force
I will be metal.
and rain.
and sea.
and storm.
and calm.
mostly, I will fall with the flowers
and be skin colored.

I will not need a kiss to be awakened
but I'm looking forward to our paths crossing,
wanderer
Your eyes eat the broken meadows
and glaze over, snow-dusted, in the mountains.

Hallelujah sings the golden crow
different from the rest, walks and talks
and sings and sings
and loses wings
and loses wings its wings
have shrunk to fit inside a business suit
a dark black fitted business suit

Cough coughs the golden crow
the blackened business crow
who no longer sings
no longer has wings
no different from the rest
no longer knows the simple things.

Most days I wear flip-flops because I am too lazy to wear socks,
and I like the feeling of summer somewhere close to me,
and I like to watch my feet move. Do you know, there
are so many small little bones in there! it amazes me.

My mom used to massage my feet to wake me up.
She's been the best foot-massager of all, better than all the friends
and the boyfriends. Better than the early morning
sleepy-satisfying stretches, better than the feeling of sunlit
warm wood on my bare feet. Better than grass. Her calloused hands,
and softly hummed melodies. Tattooed arms, faded turquoise. Sun on her
skin. If I could see my mom in myself every time I looked in the mirror
I think I would be relaxed. I would play more music. I would spend
my next paycheck taking a day off with a pina colada and
tattooing a turtle, on my foot, just like hers.

Flexing my feet. Cold night air. Flip-flopping on the concrete. I wish
I could dive into the ocean, ice-cold, something worth laughing into
the nighttime. So much seriousness all the time, I think that people
need to eat more butter and not take skin to mean so much.

Silly, really, I guess. But a Mom-massage might just mean the world
sometimes. And smiling with someone is like a Mom-massage, right when I need it most.
To everyone who's been there, thank you.

Running on thunder,
how I loved you.
Even in your blueness
and in the quiet,
I wanted to touch your
soft blonde self, you
were so soft you were
bound to blow away
in the wind so
soft I could melt
at the knees and stay
on the ground with
my heart ahead of
my thoughts,

dreamer.
I'm still sighing
on the lightning,
unfazed even in
your lemon-yellow
love. Sunshine to
see a drifter fall
so perfectly.
You were always
going to be something
rain-like, drizzled
into my memories,
beautiful crystal
clear eyes, silent
somewhere, ghost of
your voice on my
grass-green heart.
Best wishes.

words are fragmented earth
elements seeping into the wind currents
clustering in empty spaces and
slowly gathering at our feet
dead and brown like the leaves,
but perhaps lacking beauty

words are time as they pass through
cold lips into empty air
empty ears, filled with empty sounds,
void of meaning

words are safety as they blanket themselves
around people trying to hide
empty people, filled with empty fear,
void of meaning

move their mouths, shape their sounds
vowels consonants breaths
empty eyes, black holes, empty souls,
void of meaning

words are the cage of the trapped
they can be controlled but nobody
knows how

Poetry?
Yes, it's a place I like to hide in
Bury deep within myself so that when it's dark,
I have words

I have
I have to
I have to face the world
I have to face my fears
I have to face my hate
and the subjects of it
I have to leave when I want to stay
won't you follow..
I'm so hollow
sometimes
can't

the break between breaths
sharp blades of grass.
the sad softness that leaves an itch
leaves you itching when you go inside
the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you to turn back
back..
your back is turned, don't look back
you've lost your perspective
wher
e
is

you're
so
sharp
I'd like to
think about
looking through the stars and back,
for someone one day.
I'd like
t
  o
look in
to the sun one day I'd like to sh
ow my sunshin
e too one day

I thought my dreams fell, one day
I thought I found a deep chasm inside myself that could never be filled
with broken glass everywhere
broken shards, dug into my feet
If the blood couldn't fill the void what
if love


The br
eak between gasps
is free for filling now

When I was very young I had
a thought about thinking and feeling and
Thinking about feeling and
Feeling thought (or not)
And then I realized I was old.

I awoke from near-slumber to smile
about the color of your eyes, how
the sunlight makes them dance into a
slow stream of warm honey-
reflecting mine into pools
reflecting mine as they wander to arms
that embrace

You watched my eyes wander
and called me wanderer as I danced in circles
around you, away, returned to you
standing as shelter with
arms that embrace

Free, my skin laughs to touch yours
Melt, the sky into pools around us
Cry, heavy burdens released to your shoulder
and burrowing into your arms
that embrace me
You, the boy that once chased me
Me, the girl going crazy
Us, two caged birds set free

I fall back asleep to the thought of your heartbeat...

They march instead of walk
through snow and water, sand and rock
and dictate every time they talk.

Impervious, their eyes burn red
pierce you with fire, fill you with dread
they have no souls, are worse than dead.

They are the vision of your perfect fear
infecting those you hold so dear
and don't allow a single tear.

Come January they gather stones
to scare you while you turn to bones
they laugh at your shivers and your moans.

Spring arrives they gouge your eyes
to keep you from seeing flowers rise
forever stuck with gray and black and cries.

Spare you this, the summer heat?
Not; they strap coals to your feet
and smirk at the blind attempting retreat.

Still heartless as arrives the Fall
they decide to test you at your crawl
they cut the legs off one, off all.

They cause you nothing but a year of agony
regrets and loss of sanity
still They go down in infamy.

Were you to go back in time
you'd surely find your own rhyme
and take your chances on your dime!

Now too late to run away
they own you night and day
ah, but a life, thrown away.