Don't tell me I was born to be something,
Don't tell me I need to be this prophecy,
Because there's no way I could ever be.
Don't tell me to be someone else,
Don't tell me to change,
Because there's no way it's going to happen.
Don't tell me there's a path for me to follow,
Don't tell me I'm a puppet for God to play with,
Because I make my own future.
The only thing you could possibly know,
Is the fact that some day I will die.
As soon as you label me,
You fence me in.
Don't tell me I'm to be something,
Because I'm already me.

So bored.
So...
bored...
Doodle.
Except,
I can't doodle.
What to doodle?
How do people doodle?
How do they see images
on a blank piece of paper?
Well, it must be like how I hear
poems in ringing silence. Doodle.
So bored. So... bored... Doodle. Cat?
I can't draw cats. Dog? The best you'll
get is a stick figure. Horse? No way. Hearts?
Predictable. Doodle? So bored. So... bored... Doodle.

The hot summer breath pours over the expanse of my exposed neck,
nearly silent as it reminds the rest of my body of the shadow's chill.
I'm under a tree, its leaves hang in the air as if they have no weight;
they simply decide to lay their heads on the sea-sprayed grass below.
The waves kick up from the water lurching below, kissing my brow;
I want to peak over the edge, but I know if I do I'll fall straight down.
It's an arm around my waist and under my temple that holds me back,
A kiss on my crown and the feeling of fingers interlacing with my own.

shift

My cheek rests upon the soft surface of a desert's sun-kissed sand,
everywhere I look the dunes never end, they simply shimmer into the sky.
I breathe out hot wind onto a landscape that defines the very word,
watching the breath create stirs that turn to circles that turn to clouds.
The clouds become a storm, but not a single grain of sand grazes my skin:
I trace the spine of this towering wall with the very tip of my finger nail.
It trembles under my touch but does not waver against the mighty storm;
my body curves to his, my arm around his torso, my cheek upon his back.

shift

Here I float among the stars and planets as I look upon the earth,
gently, like the bobbing of a canoe down a river, I glide on the moon.
I can feel my heart pounding through the thick material of my suit,
or perhaps it is another's as I can feel my own through my hand.
The two different beats dance and race until they are nearly one,
putting on a show with lighting provided by the Milky Way above.
Something stronger than gravity holds me fast from drifting away:
an arm around my back, my cheek upon a chest, rising with his breath.

shift

The vines of the jungle hold me tight under the thick canopy above,
humidity causes a bead on my brow, but I dare not shake it from its place.
I am like a body in a coffin, but more like soft pink petals in a spring bud,
held tight but not too firm as not to cause a misguided cut or bruise.
The sunlight burns my skin, the rays that squeeze through the ceiling
try to bubble and churn me into a misshapen form, but I am protected.
Forehead to forehead, a heartbeat in my palm, mine between is fingers;
four legs tangled, unidentifiable, so they become ours not mine.

shift

The sunlight kisses his crown and falls through my lashes,
unforgiving of any peace we may have found with eyes closed.
A small bed in a small room, two people stumble in at two in the morning.
They talk of the future, of rings and a white dress between quick breaths
and within the slow mumbles of midnight gripped promises.
For now, he wakes her with a soft kiss like a single drop of spring rain
and she reaches for him with fingers dripping in memories of a dream.
To them, love is an unspoken promise,
like the change of the seasons or the pull of the tide.

*shift

we see eachother in our reflections
but we're just looking at broken mirrors
thinking we're a perfect match.

we're two fools dancing around eachother like
we own the grandest castle
thinking that nothing can touch us.

we flash images at eachother like
broken television boxes
thinking we know eachother's story.

we burn holes in eachother like
cigarettes on old parchment
thinking that we're helping.

we sit and cry under the covers
like two children with broken toys
hoping we still love eathother.

we dream of eachother like
the living mourning over the dead
thinking that the other is gone.

we're connected to eachother like
two sewn pieces of cloth
thinking we're a million miles apart.

we want to forget eachother like
a bad dream
thinking we were nothing but evil.

we make eachother bleed like
fresh purple hearted war veterans
thinking that we can rip the thread of the past.

we're distant to each other like
two strangers on a crowded street
hoping the scars don't show.

Earth showed me her heart, and I feel obligated to brag.
The yellow beat of its core reached to me,
stretching over the miles as if it were a Sunday stroll.
Its brilliance enraptured me in pinks and oranges;
spilling her love like a drunk poet after heartbreak:
               beautiful yet tragic.
Framed in the white snow; pouring over the slumbering land,
singing to it as a Mother should to a restless child.
Paint strokes, long and smooth, parallel the canvas edge
like a signature move to Earth's greatest artists.
Earth showed me her heart, and I felt my own skip a beat.

You have to do more than believe
if you want to change the world.
Prayers and shooting stars
just won't cut it anymore.
Get off your knees and
go serve the god you're so devout to.
It's time
                                                 to march,
                                                 to protest,
                                                  to cry out into empty winds
because it's better to be heard
than to die silent.

You must think you're funny
parading around with that mask on.
People must think you're smart
convincing them of your deep thoughts.
Epimetheus, dear, you were never one
for prethoughts.
Now look at what you've done.
My love for you is burning.
You dangled it above the flames,
threatening it,
questioning its validity.
But I pushed it in --
held that dilapidated beat in the bluest flame
and listened to you scream as it died.
You have nothing over me now --
I am free.

Every other girl dons her heels
but me.
I come in my dancing shoes.

Every other girl holds her skirts
but me.
I'll cartwheel in my jeans, please.

Every other girl accepts his hand
but me.
I reached for his first.

Every other girl follows a step behind
but me.
I lead the parade.

Every other girl lives to become beautiful
but me.
I know beauty lives to be me.

Every other girl displays skin
but me.
I'm all pearly whites.

Every other girl chokes in a corset
but me.
I'd rather sing of freedom.

I was drowning in holy water to get to you,
Praying to a man I couldn't accept for you,
Burning in the next pew to get close to you.
You sewed your hands for your God
And tried so hard to lace that red thread through my flesh.
Faith is a mighty tree you blighted with Doubt.
Belief is the sunshine you shadowed in Fear.
But, oh my God, you are my creature of temptation
And I'd forget it all if you would too...
But your hands and sewn together
And my mirrored palms are still healing from your needle.

Snow fall,
Crystal showers
That encase me in the chill of death.
Take me in your arms
And lull me away,
Put me to sleep with the oaks,
Tuck me away under the drapes of the willows,
Lace my dreams with memories of summer flowers
Cover me in blankets of soft uncut grass and
Douse me with frozen snowflake kisses.
I fear the cracking I hear
When I try to open my eyes,
The shattering of an ice layer so thin yet so heavy--
Is that the sun I see?
Washing the white landscape in red and pink
Reaching out, but never touching.
It is always the moment before the dawn
That I forget the beauty of the day.
Consumed by twilight and midnight stars--
Hopes that are billions of miles away…
Upon awkening,
The first steps are always hard.
The chill that encases so many holds fast
Only the strong survive
I fear this time I will not rise with the sun,
But sink low, deep into the willow's roots
And feed from the next tortured soul
Who comes to sleep under the drapes of the willow.

A twisted thing held all my fears:
Midnight hours ask of my tears,
Creatures in corners see me stir
And wonder why I weep no more.

I wish the blue blood wouldn't pool
In the shaking hands deemed so cruel,
This chill burning my blackened bones
Is the same etching my tombstone.

I don't cry for the dark unknown
But for the creature that is shown:
The one that looks me in the eye
And lets the red love we had die.

I saw fireworks

Tiny explosions of reds
yellows and purples colliding --
Fourth of July through a kaleidoscope

So much happening
yet my mind sits in a daze
Your lips, your taste, is everything.

My body is numb
The heart dictating all
until its beat rings clear

I saw fireworks

The clouds above us weep
at the sight of your departing footprints,
but don't fear, love, for
from these relentless tears,
beautiful flowers shall sprout
and the heavy goodbyes
that engraved your lonely footprints
will be replaced with
welcoming embraces
and the light laughter
of a new beginning.

Have you heard what the babbling brook whispered to me one evening?
Did you listen to the whistling willow’s song brush the pond?
Perhaps you have not seen what jewel crusts the setting sun’s crown?
It does not surprise me that the Earth rejoices in your name:
You are the embodiment of everything good in this world.

I walked in the never still forest and heard you in the dance --
The sporadic and simplistic pat of small animal feet.
I listened and found you asleep among the white pond lilies
And painting the golden crust of the sun’s blood red diadem,
Yet, the brook did not utter a simple shadow shape of you.

Following the now silent stream through the forest dark and deep,
Crawling through the pointing, shredding claws and heavy, lonely eyes,
I found you swaddled in the arms of the cursed crying willow
Shaking in fear and anger, sharing tears more precious than pearls --
Take my hand as the sun rises only when we expect it.

You are the green weeping willow life-bound by endless sorrow,
But definition is a cage that should not bind such beauty:
You are both the warm summer breeze and the winter frost topped trees,
The soaring mother eagle and the light notes of a spring song --
You are the babbling brook that speaks only of hope and the dawn.

Take my hand, dear, and I’ll take you far away
To a place where we can just talk all day

Let me be the one you want to talk to
I’ll give you every last small piece of me
I’ll take the moon from the stars just for you
Let me be the one you want to talk to

Darling, you’re so much more than you let on
Just one look from you and my heart was gone
We could be so much, if you knew my love
You just need to see – we fit like a glove

Let me be the one you want to talk to
I’ll give you every small piece of me
I’ll take the moon from the stars just for you
Let me be the one you want to talk to

I want to take your hand and spin you ‘round
Hold you tight and know what you’re all about
We’ll tap our feet to the faint drumming sound
Together we’ll dance ‘till our soles give out.

Let me be the one you want to talk to
I’ll give you every small piece of me
I’ll take the moon from the stars just for you
Let me be the one you want to talk to

We can shine like the stars on cloudless nights
Like summer rain, we’ll fall without a fight
We’ll watch the lightning with eyes opened wide
I promise to always be at your side.

I can see you through the treehouse window
as you stand before the river, fist clenched.
"What's in your hand, Brother?"
"Sister, it is something so heavy,
I fear it will drown if I open my clenched fist."

I can see you through my phone camera
as you slouch before the river, fist clenched.
"What's in your hand, Brother?"
"Sister, it is something so precious,
I fear it will fly away if I open my clenched fist."

I can see you through the nursery window
as you hunch before the river, fist clenched.
"What's in your hand, Brother?"
"Sister, it is something still important,
I fear it will be lost if I open my clenched fist."

I can see you from my porch
as you kneel before the river, fist clenched.
"What's in your hand, Brother?"
"Sister, it is something so forgotten,
I fear it will disappear if I open my clenched fist."

I can see you along the shore
as you die before the river, fist clenched.
"What's in your hand, Brother?"
"Sister, it is something I should have let go
so many years ago"

I saw you
as you opened your clenched fist before the river.
A single pebble fell to the riverbed.
"Brother, Death's claws did not **** you --
Cupid's arrow did."

soon
soon we
shall taste the
crisp air that will
fill our lungs and only
one word will leave our
cracked lips,
freedom.
And we shall
thrive again in
this living hell in
which we must endure!
Freedom I say! Freedom
From the horrors I have seen
And experienced!
Freedom.

He was so convincing
When he invited me over one
Friday night.
I never knew his intentions were
Just routine actions in the dark.
I did all I could, resisted his every move
I swung the lamp and its lampshade
Flew across the room, landing far away.
Flowers of blue and purple bruised
Up and down my body.
And now blood dots his carpet—
And my body lays in cold.
He took my soul, body, and stilled
My heart. He was a greedy man
Who still preys on women like me
And convinces them
To come over one
Friday night.

I'm not crazy,
I swear.
You can't hear the voice?
The little bird that sits
On my shoulder and whispers
In my ear?
No?
That is your loss.
My voice tells me things
You can not imagine.
He whispers poems to me,
And sings lullabies to me,
And holds my hand when
I am scared.
But I'm not scared,
Not when he's whispering to me.
So I'm not crazy,
I swear.
My imagination is just too much
And needs to be expressed -- out --
Not kept inside because of fear.
You fear for me?
I fear for you
You have never known his whisper,
Or his music.
And you shall live hollow,
Because you have never known him --
Him who is your Genius.

What are you supposed to do when you return to a ghost town?
Do you walk among the dead, pretending to belong,
breathing from a straw as you watch the shallow water rush over your senses:
filling your ears with the same white noise you tried so hard to run away from,
bombarding your mouth and consuming the space your voice would perch before it decided to fly,
making your gaze so blurred you're never sure exactly how shallow you've become or how far you've sunk,
wrinkling your fingerprints and numbing everything but the constant rushing of a thin layer of blue silk,
you cling to the memory of the tulips you paused to smell as it's replaced with the eerie aroma of copper…
but that straw, those frantic shallow breaths, is all that keeps you from floating along the stream of sleepwalkers that litter this town.
This valley is a cage and every tunnel you see makes your heart whisper
"You're almost there."
In a city where nothing stretches for the ever-clear postcard sky
except the fumes of the local factory,
the people crawl between city blocks whose red lights
cast a net crafted for salmons at narcissistic sardines.
The suburbs are quiet on school nights, at weekend's dusk, in holiday's dawn.
Teenagers who have lost interest in the quiet are up late either coughing up ****** or SAT scores,
all searching for a heartbeat they forgot how to feel,
straws protruding from their lips like unlit cigarettes.
Their eyes are cloudy, pupils expanded, the whites bulging with pulsing red rivers, delving deep into a landscape the world forgot.
They shuffle next to you, faces purple from the lack of oxygen, but they'll never say so because
haven't you heard?
the walking dead tend to eat the living.

I thought we could run
where love could save us.
I thought we could hide
where lights wouldn't chase us.
I was wrong.
What a glorious fall we had.
It was a tedious climb to the top,
but a nearly effortless drop.
What a glorious fall we had!
But how suddenly we came to a stop.

I'm breathing you in,
when I want you out.
On me, you're a tear gas --
choking me; unable to shout.
You're with me long after the battle.
What a glorious fall we had.
It was a tedious climb to the top,
but, oh, what a nearly effortless drop.
What a glorious fall we had!
But how suddenly we came to a stop.

I'm trying to erase you, but
you're a drum
that beats loud and clear.
Even with miles to overcome,
I can hear your booming beat.
What a glorious fall we had.
It was a tedious climb to the top,
but, oh, what an effortless drop!
What a glorious fall we had,
but how suddenly we came to a stop.

{How many} glow-in-the-dark stars
do you still have on your ceiling?
{More} than you'd like to admit,
am I right?
I only have one left,
but it fills my {nights} like Sirius.
When clouds blanket the stars,
the glow-in-the-darks {must} shine
to keep the monsters away;
to ensure {I spend} my dreams
on hopes rather than fears.
The five pointed stars remind me
I am not {alone}; they are
{staring at} me with such love
that it keeps the monsters
under {my} bed.
I only have one star left,
but its glow makes my {ceiling}
the Milky Way.

Close your heavy eyes and picture for me, if you please,
The way your hair catches in the warm summer breeze,
The rose tint of your cheeks as if they are petals to breathe,
Your soft skin kin with the snow caps of the evergreen trees.

Your good, tired eyes so gentle and lush and strong forest full,
See a world so harsh, yet gaze upon it so steady, fierce and tactful.
Great lioness, with white teeth so sharp, prowl the preys so pitiful --
They cower in corners of deep darkness, dreaming of your downfall.

Open your easy emerald eyes and look as me, if you might,
To understand this is what I see so this is what I write:
Your charisma, your grace, your gentle laugh like a kite in flight,
Your electric vim, your vivid aura, your strive to force things right.

You’ve fire in your fathomless green eyes that challenges our sun,
You’re a phoenix, soaring through the sky like a bullet from a gun
Screaming   C O M E   A T   M E   at the top of your lungs.
How lucky am I to call you a friend, you strong and beautiful woman?

It's cold down here,
the white cushions and blankets do nothing
to safeguard my withering body
from Earth's cold claws.
Remember when we used to sit in Summer's sun?
Ankle deep in baked sand
as the waves lulled us.
Remember how you held my hand the first time?
Side by side, we sat on that empty beach
our hands absentmindedly digging towards the core.
It wasn't until I was distant that I felt your fingers,
timid at first,
then coiling like a grape vine 'round a fence.
You remember, don't you?
It hasn't been too long?
You told me,
in that raining back alley,
that you wouldn't let me go.
You told me,
as I held your hand like a lifeline,
that I was going to be okay.
I kept listening,
through the rain and your tears,
for the sound of running footsteps
and the clinking of money in my purse as he ran.
Did you catch him?
Will he never hurt anyone again?
Please tell me,
so that I may feel some warmth in eternity.

Trapped in your green eyes
I'm so lonely yet so loved
Knowing I'll be yours

Have you ever
carried the world
and not known it?
Went on with your
life, without care?
Collecting stones,
shining pebbles,
weighing pearls.

When you can't feel the mountains protruding from your back,
The
waves
crashing behind
your eyes,
storms
                 brewing
                                    in your ears;
the devil in your head,
and the angel in your heart.

When you don't know
they're there, you grow
envious of
other people's
treasures. They lug
heavy buckets
of stones, pebbles,
and pearls while
it seems you own
a small pouch that
is worth nothing.

So you spend your days at the river,
collecting stones,
                 shining pebbles,
                              weighing pearls.
With some, they can see
                                          the storm coming;
                                                         ­                                               hear the thunder
before the lightning strikes.
With me,
it was
a pebble,
a shiny pebble that
                                                            ­                                                       jumped
from its bucket,
flew up: past the angel, devil, oceans, and storms, landed on the mountains and crushed
me
under its weight.
The mountains shook and
crumbled from the weight,
the
waves
crashing and
churning –
overflowing.
The storms
                       made me
                                                              ­                 deaf
but I can still hear
the devil screaming
and feel the angel dying.

I have no choice
but to proceed
to lug heavy
buckets of stones,
and of pebbles,
and of pearls
while the other
people go on
without a care;
with a small pouch
that is worth so
much – that I’d die
to hold again.

Silly children play
around the mulberry bush
as the twilight starts


Lightning Bugs floating
A magical world awaits
Will you dance with me?


Many years ago
I know we used to be One
Now we're divided


Lies written in paint
A dark mask on a dark face
Red lips hide the truth.

Dark cloud o'er the sun
You think you will protect me
But you just killed me

Like a tear so soft
Our love's time has come and gone
Drowning in the rain

Hush yourself to the foreignly familiar sound
you've known your entire life --
it's the sound of nothing,
                                             the sound of blackness.
Close your eyes,
but it's no different from when you leave them
staring into the voided eternity.

The thin hairs coating your arms
like sleeves of chain mail stand attention
as the strange chill sweeps over your body.
Darting eyes like two blue dragonflies
locked in a twisted duet
search the space just out of reach as if
looking longer or quicker may catch something
     off guard.

Breath deep.
                        Deeper.
Take in the familiar scent of you
in the frail cocoon you've wrapped yourself in.
Struggle against it,
                                   fall into it,
entomb yourself as a way to fight
the sudden dryness of your tongue and lips.
Lap them again as your mind wonders
to a place of blue skies and bluer seas...
                                                                       and then snap back.
Something has broken the foreignly familiar sound of night
and it seems to be breathing down your neck,
shooting waves of panic and
                                                   adrenaline deep into your bones.

Head full,
Pencil still

Images flying,
Pen dazed

Whispers screaming,
Voice mute

Face strong,
Eyes tearing

Stories telling,
Books shut.

there is Heat in this moment.
this Heat isn't like
a warm summer breeze,
or a blanket on a winter night.
this Heat is like
being forced to take a pleasent stroll
in the blood-shot screams of Hell
all while walking barefoot
on the Sun with a smile.
there is Heat in this moment,
but it seems only you and I can feel it.

The construction of the human face,
is the way it is for a reason.
He gave us eyes to see,
a nose to smell,
ears to listen,
a mouth to speak,
a tongue to taste.
He gave her ears,
yet she refuses to use them properly
He gave me a mouth,
but I don't know why I talk half the time,
because she refuses to listen.
Her body language indicates that she is aware,
but her eyes,
they glaze over in a way that makes my soul thrash about.
My words,
like pollen in the spring wind,
float to her,
goes in one ear,
and straight out the other.
Like acid,
my tears scar my skin and
Like a shower,
it never seems to end.
I am not your mask,
you can not parade around through me.
You say that
"Some people don't realize it,
until someone else tells them."
I've told you,
yet you cover your ears like in your youth.
You tell me to fly,
but when I try to jump,
you pinch my wings?
How can I learn
if you won't let me tumble?
I am not you,
so stop comparing us.
We may share a similar face,
but this body and mind is not yours.
I am no puppet,
you can not control me.
You're deft not because you can't hear,
but because you refuse to understand.
You are not empathetic.
You refuse to see me through my eyes.
God gave you ears for a reason,
It's about time you learned to use them --
correctly.

Right place, wrong time.
That’s me.
Right intention, wrong action.
That’s me.
The crime was not mine,
but I'm the one left at the scene.
The criminal runs free,
while I’m locked away.
I arrived to help,
only to be blamed.

Let’s blame the cat
for stealing the acorns.
Let’s punish the fish
for ruining the carpet.
Let’s pull out the flowers
for getting stung.

They were in the right place,
Wrong time.
They had the right intention,
Wrong action.
The crime was not theirs,
but they’re the ones at the scene.
The criminal runs free,
while they’re locked away.
They’re only there to help,
only to be blamed.

Latch the lock shut on this suitcase,
You folded lace and linens
lovingly, watch me leave:
the later beckons.

Oh, the ominous future waits,
but old days will hold me close.
Ornate minds and dresses:
there’s so much I owe.

Vast your love ventures-- I know this;
the same heart holding me
teaches independence
that fills a valley.

Each and every day I am me
as I learn to exalt who
I am exclusively.
Mother, I love you.

In the seat with the split window,
black cold metal blocked the road ahead,
the sliver of window from the seat infront of me
clouded and beaded with cold rain.
I'm only aware of what's passing me now --
what I've already passed.
None of it feels real, though.
The trees and roadside ditches seem to jump
like an old film
like thousands of pictures flashing in sequence.
The rain streaks making the scene flow not quite right.
A few seats behind me painted nails trace an empty smile
on the condensation.
Thousamds of raindrops rolled behind
two blank eyes and one hollow smile.
Yet,
the image never beaded and melted away,
even as she started to cry.
I watched the wind pet small waves
onto window puddles,
and flinched as pothole vibrations cut it apart.
As we lerch forward --
perhaps for a red light --
the puddle would run to an unseen place,
a place I could not see yet.

They say I'm off my hinges,
That I'm spiraling into nothing
And welcoming insanity with open arms.
The voices sing me songs
About love and loss,
Of great battles
Fought at the birth of dawn
And others in back alley ways.
They whisper dark things
Along side the melody of light...
They tell me I'm off my hinges
But who's gonna believe a voice under the bed...?

Hourglass cage holding me like a love,
Hold me closer, tell me of forever.
Sing to me of time, not my lack thereof,
Just lie to me with soft lips so clever.
The sands sub sole sink as the skies expand,
Stretching higher and higher as I shrink.
People are slipping through my open hands.
My tears are now sands that run when I blink --
They replenish but cannot save the past
Slipping away like my grip on the glass.
Each grain like a timer I can't outlast,
I place all my faith in falling morass.
     Grasping memories, hands, hourglass walls,
     I hang above the darkness like a doll...
          'til I simply fall.

I am the snowflake that hovers
caught between two winds.
Unsure where to go -
I go up.
Higher and higher
until I am above the clouds.
And it is only then
that I fall without wind's grace
and am buried in the cold grave below.

How can I sleep?
Your face keeps
Itself on my eyelids.
Your voice keeps
calling, screaming, my name.
Your smell keeps
Suffocating my sleep.
Your warmth keeps
Destroying my comfort
Our memories
keep me from sleep.
Our actions
keep me from rest.
Our words
keep me from peace.
You keep haunting me,
after you left me to cry
after I pushed you away.
How can I sleep?