Sing to me.

Even if your voice is raspy,

And you can not sing,

Love me enough to sing to me,

In the dark,

As you take my hand,

And lead me into your arms.

Sing to me your favorite song,

Or of the fears that plagued you when you were young.

I will memorize the melody,

As I listen to the vibrations,

That your vocal chords conjure up,

As I lean my head against your chest.

Let your insecurities lay at my feet,

And sing to me.

And if you can’t bring yourself to do so,

I’m willing to listen to you hum.

you told me I could tell you anything.

and from my tongue slipped chaos.

broken consonants, faulty vowels, damaged syllables.

from my heart slipped shattered feelings that cradled every word that was to be delivered to your sensitive ears.

I spoke unto you everything that was hidden.

I brought them back to life and served them to you on a platter so silver you can see my innocence fading from your eyes looking back at you as you stared in it.

and from my soul slipped trust.

and into your hands it entered.

and then I was safe.

you may not have understood.

but you listened.

and that was more than I could do for myself.

Traces of you line every moment silver,
     even in my darkest day
Traces of you can make the empty linger,
     the second you walk away

Traces of you are my hidden treasure,
     a joy that is all my own
Traces of you are too fine to measure,
     yet brighten my darkness alone

Traces of you make life worth living,
     the birth of my very smile
Traces of you make ease of forgiving,  
     though memories tend to beguile

Traces of you turn hell into glory,  
     then turn back the other way
Traces of you rewrite the story,
     every second of every day

nobody knows the part of the story
where Jesus
and Satan
lusted for eachother like common ****
the devil kept his lips puckered
but Jesus
He used tongue

so does that make french kissing
heavenly?
or does that make Satan
a *****?

Ashen skies

she smoked,
columbian gold,
in the belly
of the cougar,
pledged allegiance
to no mans flag,
so beautiful thought I,
as the milky way,
took me on a journey,
beyond reality,
but who am I,
to think such thoughts,
just a poet?
searching for a pulpit,
a preacher
without a cause,
a prophet,
thoughts frozen
under the weight of reality,
insanity,
dispels the ink,
touches the soul,
keeps me sane,
all in the name of the pen,
the tears flow free,
as I walk away,
smiling,
refusing to kiss,
her corpse.

lets get out
of here,
come on,
I tell you,
put your silver
on the nightstand,
put your pain
in my tortured hands,
look up,
watch the ravens
play tag with my soul,
give me your heart?
no!
no!
keep your heart,
for I possess,
your silver and pain,
its all I need?

Hugging knees in darkest corners
Leaving love behind
Sinking so deeply, light is lost
Spirit broken
Heart shattered
Soul torn
Before the mending could begin
Before the pieces could be swept up
Smacked to the ground
Crushed into powder
Irreparably damaged
Irrevocably heartless
Too much love begets too much torment
Agonizing over unowned burdens
Cold shadows become welcoming
As warmth feels more like **Hell

Dry luck
flakes fallow forehead.
       (I’ve come for you.)

It promises, a hundred times, to grow
and recklessly rakes the earth.
My nails: long, pointed, poignant.

Digging into and in with my hands.
Crossing and holing XXO
       (I love you but you’re lost.)

There’s this tattoo I wish to get
if I ever get rid this fear
of making decisions.

It’s this little girl, maybe seven years old or so
she’s holding on to an aged dandelion by its neck.
Her eyes are closed and open to a whole other world -
she shoots a wish toward it
with every muscle in the body
that she doesn’t know the names of yet.

The seeds are propelled across my back
and transform into the shooting stars they always dreamed they’d be.
Somewhere below
on an otherwise empty beach
are a couple of teenagers
discovering themselves inside one another.
They kiss and tell no one.
The blanket promises to keep their secret
and the sand sneaks into places it knows it’s unwelcome.

They are drunk on the passion of the moment.
She’s lost in the stars
and wants to gently scoop those lights from the sky
seal them in a mason jar
and watch them do their cosmic dance around each other
to remind herself of how small she feels under them
and how amazing it felt to be everything and nothing at the same time.
She holds her breath, closing her eyes
sending up a wish in the music of young lust.

Meanwhile,
on my rightmost shoulder blade
There’s an older man, looking down a wishing well
at the two young lover’s play.
Smiling at his memories
which, like the ink, are fading.
A wish falls out his mouth and speeds down into the darkness
it bounces off the back of the boys head,
and is gobbled up by the greedy sand.