Believe me, I know
Of those dark places you go
In your psychological house

Shadowy corners
Narrow, crooked stairwells
Rooms with padlock doors

Chilly drafts, creaky floors
Hiding in your mind
Sitting bare and cold

But if you believe life is worth living
You can make it so
Paint your door, mend the floor
Change that house to a home

The obnoxious wind whispers,

“There is no civility in liberation.”

Oppression is not of human nature,

But of human creation

The ache for passion, the lust for change

A lush forest, serene after the rain.

But the man in the sky needs your money

And the wars are lacking funds

Smothered by fresh air, life is at your throat.

Hominid ruthlessness

Debt and despair

Depletion

Extinction

The free conform

Wild mocks civilization

Brisk air, the branches dance

Vines climb walls like silent snakes

A cold hiss,

“Everything you know is wrong.”

You only tell me you love me when you're drunk
After 2am my room lights up
A rectangle of vibrating sky
Your voice is slurred and much too loud
But I listen anyways.
You never told me you loved me
When I shared that I cursed my skin with blades
Or when he ran away and never came back.
You told me you loved me when you were high and didn't know who you were talking to
I told you I loved you every time anyways.

Jazz floats about
from the party down the street
I sit in the garden alone with my dirt stained feet
watching with tenderness as the bees go along
natures kin, they pause by the pond
sweet lavender and catnip
the weeds grow by themselves
and the bees, with no preference
hover over all with gentle care
I can only sit and watch, never to interfere
with nature's kin.

Where are you looking when your eyes are closed?
To the future, past or present?
Do you see those you adore, or the ones that you resent?
Are you thinking of what you could've said?
A word, phrase, or explanation
Are you praying to your God?
Desperate to escape from damnation?
Where are you looking when your eyes are closed?
The life you wish was yours?
Days with the mountains, rivers and cold rocky shores
Is it yourself that you see? Or an image of the person you wish you could be?
Where are you looking when your eyes are closed?