we tied yarn together
praying it would hold like rope
and maybe, just maybe
it could have
if only you had not let go
-carly jaye

don't hope for diminishment
it will only make your thoughts grow
in vicious perseverance

those thoughts, they are liars
and your heart can hear
their whispers of blasphemy
erupting in the many vacant rooms of your mind
as they are claimed by occupants merely sent to destroy
the rooms you cleared out
just for a brief taste of freedom

those thoughts are thieves
stealing precious pieces of your ever shifting sanity
placing them sporadically into a puzzle of discontented nonsense
don't hope for their complacency
for it is a weight too heavy for your shoulders to bear
and a prize to easy for them to gain
by reaching for heart strings to rip rather than play
-c.m.
-------------------------------------------------------------

I am worth more
than the coffee stained creativity
written in battered notebooks and used napkins
over looked by eyes filled with the haze of
today's worries and yesterday's regrets
all machines of a self involved world
combining the definitions of equality with conformity
I am worth more
than dreams laced with convincingly false futures
and exaggerated pasts  
plagued from the bottled
no,
judged affection that's stored in my soul like
a prized illusion
I will hold on until my heart is black and blue from the trembling
of the unsteady ground
hold on until the gold veil falls to reveal the blackened soil
hold on
to no avail
I am worth more,
more than the billboards of perfection that line the inside of my skull
stacked thoughts that run to me in the most innocent of mornings
the most blinding of nights
repeated rhythms of mocking truth
I am worth
more than the daily doubts of filtered words
more than formed plastic hearts, black & white minds, and mouths of handlebars labeled: pull or push
more than a mind that shuts down
chooses numbness,
like the constant murmur on a heart monitor after a patient has been announced dead
silence.
time of death 16:29
I am telling you.
I am worth more than the far- sighted wonder of perfect days somewhere,
not here.
the “one day I’ll get there” excuse of not being able to erase this image from my mind,
not this.
as my fingers entwine and fiddle and circle
like a ferris wheel stuck moving in one direction
I do this a lot to distract my mind.
I do this to try and slow it down from running 80mph
to a speed where I can see the lights ahead
without blurs or running colors.
I am worth more than dripping images of a life that is not mine.
- e.m. & c.m.