A crossroads.

a path encased in forest
green patchwork of branches, keep secret—-
the memories of shoes on the mossy trail

a path paved pretentiously
wood rebelliously pushing back against the green
overthrowing the chaos of jagged weeds
all the same suppressing the beauty of the wild flowers

a cleared path
barren of trouble
barren of life

a secluded path
enveloped in mystery
enveloped in regret

a guaranteed destination

an invitation to...

A killer kills
to fill
a conniving cavern
of inner calamity

To Yemaya,

Am I enough?
I've given you everything
I've hollowed myself out I have nothing left to give
my new shell is delicate and fragile
yet you do not handle it with care
Do you not have love for me at all?

From Yemaya,
February 2021

Your words take me away
the warm breath of secrets
the scent of trust
you sound like love

two lovers in the rain
see each other
through a thousand new shades
each rain drop reflecting and refracting their love
into new beautiful hues
and shapes.

I could never love myself through the male gaze,
every part of me dissected into something that is nothing
objectified and dismembered into significantly insignificant categories
criticized, and ostracized from humanly functions
only to be put on display
as a mannequin.

you looked at me
as if I wore a ravens coat

Soft oak eyes,
I hear rustling leaves when you meet my gaze.
Magnificent branches wrap around you.
Perched musicians who chirp mesmerizing tunes, ******* me in like a siren's song.
I see you through my purest eyes,
For not to corrupt your pristine haze.
Your beauty is a maze.

The quiet has a strong smell
No usual pleasantries remain between us
We're just left to marinate in the air of regret

emotions check in and out
each leaving their mark

rooms left pristine by joy
will be left muddled by anger

But one room has never been stayed in
left untouched, the room for love is abandoned

I encourage passersby to stay
but alas it is left dusty

maybe the decor is too drab
or the building lacks a certain warmth

either way
the mind hotel is left with a permanent vacancy

Hands travelling over me,
I'm scared, holding back tears.
My heart pounds trying to fight back, but I'm paralyzed unable to protect myself.
And he holds me as if I were his to adore.

Now I wonder if I can ever be held again.

Dew drops placate
the hungry grass

Sun--breaking night's serenity
leaving us forgetting ebony

Fire bugs breathing
in star luminance

Moon--who prefers to assuage
lovingly dims the Sun's immanent rage

How ironic,
To write poetry
That speaks of
Love
As if it were a familiar friend.
I write the thoughts too large and complex to store in my head alone.
I have not yet found
'My person.'
But I write as if we have known each other forever.
Maybe,
In the end there is no one for me.
But until hope is lost,
I write about you.
A person that I haven't met.

My person.

"Become perfect."
My eyes are glazed over
Delicate glass tears blur my vision
"Yes,
I promise."

Dear stranger,

when I was crying on a park bench in the rain, why did you offer out an umbrella? Every other stranger had rushed away as if tears were contagious, but you welcomed mine. Why did you go a step further to ask what's wrong? When not even those I know care to ask. We sat there in the rain until my words stopped and the clouds cleared. Why did you reach for my hand when I left? Are you too in need of a listening ear? I have known you for hours yet I feel with you I am safe, you have a stability about you, like a strong shape. Yet a roundness as well, a softness. If I believed in instant love, you would be mine.

With love,
the person crying on the park bench,
Yemaya

My suicide felt like an escape,
waking up felt like a sentence.

Married to death in words only,
falling asleep felt conjugal.

Night visits,
brief moments of peace,
before being thrown into
the deep end.

Death had grown me in captivity,
making me forget how to survive.

I had become dependent
on death's solace.

I sobered myself to reality,
death's sweetness
oscillated in ways
too unpredictable
for comfort.

Life treats me better
than death ever did.

Although there are moments,
where I wish to return into the blankness of death,
into the carelessness of nothing.

I remember how far I've come,
and how proud I would be,
to look into the future and see,

that I love life.

The Sun beams down blessing the white curtains with a holy sort of light,
delicate undulant pristine waves of silk,
frame the green leaves that peek out,
gentle and humble,
yet
commanding the eye to gaze upon them,
aware of their beauty,
manage to give vanity allurement.

my heart urges to
create
but my mind
cannot focus on passion
can’t put aside pain
so my heart’s paintings
become plain
overwritten by
an unloving mind

Might your eyes see me,
they will not shout,
"BEAUTY!"

Never felt quite like this,
like i’m just existing
existing sweeps me away like a tide
my mind moves slowly down it like a delicate wooden raft
only to accelerate until it crashes
and I have to reset each time
each time losing a plank
until i’m quite literally on my last straw
well… semi-literally
and it *****
because I don’t even know why
why im putting myself through the journey

i’m addicted to beauty
i no longer want my poetry
to remind me
of the ominous goal
that you can never understand

Drown out the laughs with your own internal screams.
Now you wish for that undervalued state of oblivion.

I’m sick of trying to make my thoughts beautiful

I’m too tired to think in verses

Poetry is like a whole other language

Sometimes I feel like I’m pretending to be bilingual

I’m not an artist

Like the rest of you

No matter what anyone says i know i'm pretty ugly
The kind of ugly that's pretty
The kind that's so different its hard to call ugly
Because it's just not comparable to pretty

The world is so beautiful,
Through eyes purified by love.
Who knew
That one person
Could wash away the brokenness of this cruel world.

Hopes of a future never to come pass.
Cutting of thread leaving a trail of red.
Comforting lies, take on vengeance’s plasse.
Callow certainty leading my bloodshed.

Essence refusing change, oil and water.
Dripping maroon, satisfies my sweet tooth.
Lost track of my goal, now it's a slaughter.
Enciphered desire, immiscible youth.

As I let go sorrow’s waters -- forlorn,
See me with your purest eyes, unerring
Touch of a mother’s hand, I am reborn.
Sins, a raven’s coat, heavens are glaring.

And as I lay my vision ridden red,
How foolish to lead to one’s own bloodshed.

it is not
'us versus them'
or
'you versus me'
it is us against the problem
which you fail to see.

crack    pop    sizzle
a million nerves go
crack    pop   sizzle
with vibrant rays of potential
to paint an exuberant future

2 cups of tell me when you find it.

obscured by the leaves
hidden by the shade
lie there, rest.
you've done enough.