I went through
Eighteen years of
Living hell.

My entire life actually.

I lost the ability to have children.
Therefore I never married.

My teens were EXCRUCIATING.

My father had cancer.

I'm disabled with arthritis
And can't walk without terrible pain.

I live with and care for
My very elderly mom and dad.

But I am not saying all this
To elicit sympathy.

I just want you to know.

I asked God... WHY ME?

He said... WHY NOT YOU.

We all have our burdens.
We all have a cross to bear.
I just want you to know that

I'M HAPPY.


"GOD, GRANT ME THE SERENITY
TO ACCEPT THE THINGS I
CANNOT CHANGE.

THE COURAGE TO CHANGE THE
THINGS I CAN.

AND THE WISDOM TO KNOW
THE D I F F E R A N C E."

I'm just like you.

In a maze.
Baffled.
Confused.

But I try to follow
God's perfect

LOVE...

He directs

FROM ABOVE.


Soul Survivor

the problem is I can't.
I can't trust anyone.
I have issues going across railroad tracks without making sure once, twice, three times that a train isn't coming.
when I muster up courage to look in a full body mirror, which isn't often, I check my reflection five times to make sure a scar isn't visible.
when I read ten word poems, I count each and every word seven times.
so why would I trust him when there is no proof to check nine times?

S(hr)unken into the polyester sea,
Just South of the TV,
I'm free.
Nodding to a muted query,
Rotting at the core.

Rusted silver on the table,
Emptied barrel proves I'm stable,
Life feels like a dreamy fable,
Not one muscle sore.

Freckles and hairs wait for a train,
Whose tracks I've laid to ease my pain,
Whose tracks I lay from vein to vein,
My tool belt on the floor.

Anxious commuters itch and crawl,
Ignite my routine twitch and drawl,
With which my soul they do enthrall,
And send me into war.

Mind and body disconnected,
Mind and body both infected,
Somewhere I can't be detected,
Nowhere anymore.

Beneath the tough,
       Fraying keratin
       Atop my porcelain digits,

Is you.

Shrinking.
Forgetful.
Perfect.

When you,
The swollen flesh below my fingernails,
Breathe,
I feel the sting of Nitrogen,
                         Oxygen,
                         Argon,
Circulating about my
                              Vulnerable
                                               Exposed
                                                             Tissue.
The sting is subtle.
The sting is beautiful.
I strip layer upon layer of tough,
Fraying keratin
Just to feel you respire.
With every advance into your territory,
You retreat.
Fortify the barrier.

We war until you are nothing but bare,
                                  Tender tissue,
      Bleeding brilliant red fear,
        Surrounded by delicate,
                                                    Pale,
                                                         Porcelain,
                                                                     Skin.
And it is all so beautiful.
            The image.
            The pain.
            You.

I wonder if I am beneath the tough,
       Fraying keratin,
       Atop your porcelain digits.