its hard for us to speak as we feel.

but a poem has no rules to keep,
no untruth to shake us from our sleep.

no one to tell me i'm crazy when I repeat
the same words like a broken broken broken record,
or when I string them o ut
                   in
      nonsensi cal pa
                                 tter
                                        ns
like those girls out on the street,
because these words can bend and SCREAM.

no one ever said poetry is s'pos to make sense
just s'pos to be free
spoken from the unedited souls
of you and me


-e.r.n.

What does it mean to feel
Like you're drowning in life,
Like you're stuck in a permanent daydream?
When your eyes never quite focus
On anything at all
Because you're so far away?

I’m so,
So far away.

Her skin looks just like a map to me,
but not to be conquered, no,
one that makes my eyes gleam with curiosity
to explore the furthest corners of her world,
the slums of her cities,
the forests of her soul.

A map that is meant to mean something,
to find a place that feels like home;
a place to shelter from the storm,
a place I no longer feel alone.

For now I know that home to me,
where I have always belonged,
is bound of merely skin and bones,
the deepest eyes,
and the cutest toes.