if pain is my reality
let me drink it straight.
i'll rely on the toughest parts of me
to hold me up
the bone, the sinew, the gristle.
stiff raw material
indifferent to the soft language of
the heart, the soul, the guts.

I always thought we were the perfect match.
But matches are meant
                                   to ignite
                                         and burn out.

The woman makes a house the home
and fills the man's horizontal spread with dreams.

Four walls can’t hold a woman inside
she is veiled but not tied!

The arch in her back hits the mark
virtually dwarfs the pyramid dwarfs the sunup.
The light at the end of the tunnel here is love.

Her inner mystery is her paintbrush.
The colour on her canvas
is a far cry from the rainbow.

It doesn’t fade nor falls on the floor
keeping it up the time lingers on.
Every star here from far and near
feels at home with a mirror!

The sun strikes my eyes
As I turn my head, left
To look out
The ***** window.

And it suddenly
Hits me.

Searing my eyes
With pain.

Blinding my mind
With white magical light.

At that moment
I think...

No...
I don't think.

I simply close
My eye lids
And with my mouth
I smile.

The widest smile-
The corners of my lips
Reaching my cheeks.

And I breathe.
Breathe and beam.

Enjoying this moment.

The sun
And me.

The sun does not hide
And the moon does not cry
As the Earth spins

For they do not belong in the same sky all their lives
They are just too special to be seen as one

So they let each other go
In hopes that someday
She would allow them to meet once more

But only after they realized
That they did not need one another to be special
They did that all on their own

you've got lips like a sunset
sweet
but strikingly harsh

She Sleeps
in a bed
of second hand
dreams.

surrounded by

raggedy Anne
romances
of no
depth or
consequence.

she is
a poem with
no ending
clouds with
no sky.



she sits

waiting for

heaven or hell

to finally

be done

with her.



maybe
someday
love will
give it
back.

the
key.

to the
place she
locks
all of her
secrets,

and hides

all of

her heart.

but not
now,

her broken
heart stands
alone,

the reaper.

watching,

while she
sits still


offering
only gentle
whispers.

of lonely

one way
conversations,

with empty

bottles

of wine

tonight.

im guilty--
biting my nail, biting my lip,
biting my
t o n g u e

fidgeting, flickering eyes that go
on and off, on and off
me

im chronic,
nervous,
in a state of
mind your own
business

im obsessed with
looking down at my feet as i walk


im forever stuck
in this awkward
edge-of-pubescence
b o d y

when i've already
died
a few hundred times
over



i dont have *******
i have two hearts,
beating out of my chest


im fragile,
tender,
might just topple over
or burst
into a million pieces of

confetti,
in my room:
its always somebody's birthday
that somebody is me
but i don't know somebody,
perhaps i used to know me
perhaps i never did



sometimes i want
oranges:
bright, round, yellow
fresh, spunky, don't-give-a-****

ill roll
whenever you put me down

im just a lemon:
yellow, iffy-butty

please
dont put me down



i just want someone to know me
(love me)

i just want to be an orange:
i wanna be what i seem
nothing to go off about
nothing to get put down about


i come as i am
and i get sent back home for it

you see--
i know nothing
all too well

The waves do not seek
permission from the shore
to crash against it
over
over
and
over again.

One thing is for certain.
I will not apologize
for how many times I
redirect
reinvent
readjust
myself in order to grow.

A flower seeks
Neither permission
nor forgiveness
for the way it blooms,
and so shall I be.

I shall seek
no permission where I can
blossom
break open
reveal my light
all in my own time.

Revel in my light.
Revel in my strength.
I shall no longer hide