the clear creek flows
through limbs green
forests **** me in
I climb upon the highest peaks to release
an echo
no one ever hears.

I fly to misty clouds
scream over dales
hear no voice returned
just a deep pass
echoes.

time upon time a tick
trespasses my ****** soils,
falling into emptiness,
count my days as lost as
never surrounds my shoulders
with hugs
or warm sweet lips.

my aunt miscarried in october.
i remember thinking: strange, her
baby died in the
month when the dead were supposed to come back to
life. her
face sags more now, it's almost as if the
baby tugged at every inch of
her on its way down to the
underworld. my
uncle has gained a few pounds, too. the
weight of absence sits heavy on his once muscular
shoulders. i
thought i tasted true
sadness when he left
me, but i didn't account for the
bitterness of having to sell baby
shoes never once
worn. my
aunt still has her list of favourite baby
names hanging on her bedroom
door, but she turns it around
some days when she's feeling extra
sad. my
uncle doesn't talk to my
aunt much anymore. i
wonder if he blames
her. i
wonder if he blames
himself. i
wonder why the world takes things from you too
early on, and if you
complain you're thought of as a bad
person. i
wonder if you stop living when part of you
dies.

I sit all alone fearing conversation,
I know that if I talk the truth will come out,
my life isn't good, or great, or even okay,
when I go home tired from the day.
I go to my room and cry,
because I know that all my smiles are fake,
and that when my mom comes home I will receive a slap in the face,
she want ask how my day was, or ask my if  things are okay,
she want notice the cuts on wrists where five minutes earlier I  made more then one slash,
because my mom loves to drink more then loving her own kid

The last of my kind
There’ll be no more after me
I’m a flightless bird
With useless wings
Dumb and wild and free
Take a good hard look
At what you’ve done to me

On display
In my solitary incarceration
I pace in circles
So the camera will see
Look at my stripes fade
Take a good hard look
At what you’ve done to me

I had no fear of anyone
‘til you got ahold of me
The moon shone through the trees
A spotlight in my final serenade
No brothers left
And there’ll be no more after me

This poem has been a product of the combined efforts of myself and the lovely prrtybrd

autumn came around like a drifter to an onramp
there were wet leaves floating in gutters full of rain.
took to walking barefoot around town
melodies from grade school, kicking in my brain.
saw you on the crosstown bus today.
you were reading a magazine.
I turned my face away and I shut my eyes tight.
and dreamed about the flowers that hide from the light on dark hillsides
in the hidden places.

the brakes howled and the bus pulled up near my house
and I got off at the corner.
pulled my sleeves down over my hands, over my hands.
and I wished I was someone else.
and I wished it was warmer.
and when I got home, I thought about you.
like a desperate policeman, searching for clues
and I almost passed out, just then
and I shut my eyes again
headed for the dark hillsides
in the hidden places.

this path i wrote
wrought with missed
twists and turns and trip
wires made of pit vipers
camouflaged in ******
stripes the color of bumble
bees that make me sneeze
humbly god help me please
i hear foot steps quietly
lightly on the trail behind me.

r ~ 11/15/14

If only falling asleep were as easy as closing your eyes. If only I didn't have to fight a battle with them. If only I weren't always so exhausted. If only I could sleep without being haunted by your face.

Stab my heart.
Knock me back.
Kick me while I'm down.
Spit in my face.
Hate me.
Discriminatingly.
Selfishly, oh.
Feels so good.
To be looked at.
To not be ignored.
To not be discarded.
Feel me.
Feel my feelings.
Reject me.
That would be better.
Than not mattering.