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witchy woman Sep 2015
.
Sometimes words cannot capture the feelings swimming in your head



so drown little thoughts


   drown
witchy woman Sep 2015
From a moments notice to
hours upon passing hours
the light trickling in the small basement
windows, stuffed with backpacks
and pillows to hide ourselves
from the outside world of uncertainty.

The churning in my stomach,
the awful, nauseous spinning is
of my own wrong doings-
a bottle of Chianti and 7 slept hours
later. I am in ruins.

Aching all morning while you lie
silently beside,
I can't help but think about all the
torture your beautiful mind was
forced to withstand. I too,
would hide even the most pressing
thoughts deep inside.

I cannot even fathom,
(I hope you realize) I'm still yet
a princess, sitting in another
castle in the sky.
witchy woman Sep 2015
kaleidoscoping thoughts rotate
patterns change, colours migrate
hard as I try, I
cannot escape-
the penitentiary that is my own
headspace.


I could walk tens of miles,
run thousands of feet
fly forever with angel wings
and dive to the deepest
depths of the sea.


from time to time
when I can't even stand
to be around me,
I put my pink matter
on my bedside shelf
and leave,


for I have better things,
to do with myself
then worry about

I,
myself
& me.
Sometimes I can't stand who I am
witchy woman Sep 2015
It feels like it's time to wrap myself in cotton sheets, drink tea with my grandmother and walk with red & yellow leaves beneath my feet.
Where did the summer skies go?
  Sep 2015 witchy woman
Kristo Frost
She's in the kitchen
(close the door)
just mixin' up some metaphor;
a true conundrum
through and through
and through to me and thus to you.

Her humble hunger
(forest's slumber)
thunders 'neath a wilting tune;
tuned to too many
to count without
a thought within.

She must profess
(but shall confess)
to any who will listen;
closely she holds
a tragic history
mostly mystery to most.

She solves my soul
(I deny that hole)
which she still fills;
overflowing always
with such unrelenting joy
that is My Love.
  Sep 2015 witchy woman
bones
On the day
she turned to dust
she asked the wind
to be her friend
and it picked her up
and ran her
through the fingers
of it's hands
and it poured her
into pockets
and whispered
to hold on
and before the
church had emptied
they were gone..
witchy woman Sep 2015
in a world that
fights to stay fighting

wins to lose more than before

gnaws on bare gums- still teething  
and starves to keep feeding

tell me, my dear
will we ever stop bleeding?
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