winter faded like old parchment, drawn in charcoal
the trees waited for the inevitable colours of spring.
your voice coloured silence and left me standing
away from the crowd with my head inclined to yours,
listening to you, the shadows swept away and your
voice like the moonlight, the blue inks of the sea.
i watched you unwind night skies and the night stars
that burnt in the rivery realms of lost ruins and whispering
dreams, fell like dead men before your passion and there
was no reasoning with what you believed and you had
no compassion for the world. hatred fired up before
my forgiveness and you could not forgive. how many  
oceans scattered their flowers and light, how many
armies fell before the burning amber of your eyes?

In the sea caves
there's a thirst there's a love
there's an ecstasy
all hard like shells
you can hold them in your palm.

In the sea caves
for whole days I gazed into your eyes
and I didn't know you nor did you know me.

*Giorgos Seferis

~

Jagged formations
Barefoot on this narrow ledge
Thorned barriers rip flesh
Tattered jeans and ***** tee
Staring out over it all
Cold breezes prevail

Clouded visions cry
in cryptic raindrops (falling)

Pain settles thoughts
Enlightening as it is
Seeping slowly into gasping pores
Shattered dreams
Stone faced and worn
Upon bleeding knees

I hear the voices in echoes
chanting in metronome directions

One step forward
Draining that last ounce
Wrenching muscles
Past tense, present tense decisions
Chipped in granite pieces
Scattered along this last call

Pleading to fly, arms outstretched
as what was small quickly becomes larger

Roaring winds pass
Deafening cries of fractured wishes
Spinning out of control
Final moments bring light
Dark as any place
Where I shall end

In that flash leading in I see you
*and ask silently if this is what you wanted

It's funny what you remember about people
Their favorite colors,
their favorite songs,
what made them smile,
what made them laugh
the sweet things they said
what they got passionate about,
what they talked about at two in the morning
when no one else listened

It's funny how you remember how their hair fell in their face
and how their hoodie always hung
and the way they shuffle their feet when they walk,
and puff out their cheeks slightly in stress
how they got *******
the way they talk
the way they could be a mess

It's funny that you remember things about people
that don't seem to matter
but you love them,
and miss them
It's sad that you remember people, really.
It's sad that you can't forget
and oh so easily move on
it's sad that a lot of times you don't even want to

The darkness it burnt upon my
Angel wings, they wilted, with
Each moment of this forsaken
Place, my soft skin did  haemorrhage
Tainted with each breath every
Movement that I crawled upon
This acidic land corroded my light .

My white turned yellow, changed
From pure to black, I was in agony
As that which was white should
Never be turned to that. I was
Winged, not able to give motion
To the air, I was a ground dweller
As if wings were a weight a persecution
To the time of air, now dragging like
A weight a conscience upon my back.

I must have walked upon this scared
Land, I must have moved these once
Pure now tainted as dragged like sin
Behind my back.

I was before I fell, I contemplated
That which I had been and that
Which this land whispered to me
Become. The light was dulled, smothered
Like a wet blanket over a fire, Suffocated
What burnt bright, now I was being
Extinguished my dulled light.

I remembered I fell and my skin smelt
Sulphuric with a hint of light, I knew
I had bleed hatred behind me, I knew
That I had been left, abandoned to this
Isolation. My wings had regained there
Imagery, they were like crows feathers
Pure, dark, black as night.

I despised  those above, their light, ignited
Hatred, deep within where something that
Beat but know was just black, I launched
Upon the breeze to take me vengeance
Upon that purity that  glided, flowed.

I am that which will take those of higher
morals and bring them to the place of
Solitude, of loneliness, they will remember
The pain of those they had been left in the
Darkness,  For light can only last so
Long before it becomes what was before.

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

I told that when I came out of my mother's womb I was singing.
I was told that I whenever I talk I speak as if I'm telling a story.
When I tried out for every solo in middle school and never got it.
Notice: That never stopped me from singing.
When my best friend ignored my words of wisdom, or told me she didn't get it.
Notice: That never stopped me from writing.
Those plenty of times I've sprained my ankle or was too weak to run another mile.
Notice: It never stopped me from running.
I'm stubborn and that could be a good thing and a bad thing.
I was told by my own family "Shut up, no one cares."
Notice: That didn't stop me from having a voice.
I was afraid to go outside because I was afraid I'd need an ambulance.
Notice: I still went outside.
See when I was a baby I never tried new things.
I didn't take risks.
But I was told that when I came out of my mother's womb I was singing.
Singing to the heavens, singing to the sky, singing all the angel's goodbye.
Notice: Nothing has ever stopped me from believing in myself.

Don't lay me down.
Sleep is not an option.
If you told me to be happy without my pencil,
Don't lay me down to sleep,
Lay me down to die.

She came out at night
Past the pond she'd stir
She fell upon a grave
And prayed it would be her.
But prayer doesn't work for her
For she is still alive
Go home and scar herself
Reminders of time.
She looks at the grave
Time moves slow
But she's dead still, she is sure.
Past the trees she'd stir
She found a new grave
And hoped that it'd be her.

I'm afraid of being alone
For all my torture begins there
That's where all my thoughts come alive
And speak to me
Makes sense?
It doesn't to me either

They all gather around me
And begin a convention
Of my life from its very
Beginning to its present
The constant reminder of
What a failure I am

And all these thoughts
In just a matter of seconds.
As I hold my head in fear of
What my life has become
As I begin to peel my flesh off
As I begin to lay a knife near my chest

I wake up from this nightmare
But how can it be a nightmare
If its how I feel and think
All day everyday?