I should like to disappear
And live among the nether regions.
To sink into that white wet dust aloft and dangling above crisp evergreens.
There is a hole in that dense fog that calls to me
Each curve aligns,
From my brow to my toes,
In a perfect silhouette.
Thus I find perfect solitude

I shall be enveloped by milky warm rapture
And wish that each cell split and vaporize
Like sediment washed away by thick waters.

Let me submerge into the salty earth
And coat my skin in its colors.
I will rub dirt into my eyes and **** moss in pursuit of thirst.
This lone wolf has seen far too many packs
And wishes to burrow herself in the forgiving
Muddy crevices of the earth mother

O, stand back ye banshees and ghouls
I will cascade into the overflowed river beds
And muddle my hearing with the sound of tides
Chanting relentlessly into my eardrums
You
Are
Alone
.

I am the dead walking.
The skeletons before
and behind me
Threaten and curse.

I don't move as smoothly
As I did once.

My body has been picked
Clean by the lies
I have told.

Self destruction is my forte.

The skeleton
Of my future
Sheds it's skin,
Moth shaped fragments
Flutter away
Carrying all promises of
Redemption and happiness.

Each false word
Sprays poison on my
Tongue
As it leaves my mouth.

The skeleton
Of my past
Crawls along with one hand,
Dragging your hurt soul
Chained to its ankle.

It wants to let go.

But the key has sunken
To the bottom of
A well,
Flooded with my various
Evil synchronicities.

I am hatred personified.

I am a liar and a good one.

Not even your undeserving,
Kindhearted,
Beautiful soul
Was safe from the
Rattle of my tall tales
And the sharp pain
Of bone
Through soft, innocent
Flesh.

I was once told that words mean little.
Action is what mattered.
Or maybe it's the thought that counts?
Fairly frequently I will get mad,
But very rarely am I disappointed,
The way I am now.
Much of my time is spent filing single
Socks without a pair back into my drawer.
But these little tragedies
Never realize their full potential.
Static cling charges their fair atoms
And I am clung to for dear life.
Your hypocrisy amuses me.
Nothing is more silly than a lonely sock
Wanting to be worn by a girl who lives
In bare feet.
But bare and calloused toes were better
And less cruel,
Than her favorite pair of socks,
To whom she had lost half the match.

If you, little sock, want peace
Want solace
Want brevity...
This lint fire will get you high,
Just like those words, actions,
And thoughts you keep from me.

Time is wonton soup,
And that tall boy you stole last night
Is still inside your trunk.

Cigarette smoke and sunscreen air
Perfume the burning grass.
When all is placed on greenfly's wing
He tumbles forward - brash.

Cool pursuit, and time lapse too,
Persist the stagnant air
Of summertime and sweet plum wine,
Cocoons, a golden snare.

Black lace ******* disarray
I want to know your plans,
From shallow noon till dusty dusk
With warm and calloused hands.

Silence is not scary;
It does not beat around bushes
or hobble on stumps.

Silence has a potent vulnerability.

It lives in rainbow
Configurations at the bottom
Of a bubble, in the moment before
Its life bursts.

When the whick in the moonlight
Scented candle whispers
That it is burnt out, silence escapes
In the spiral columns of smoke.

A whisper, a whimper, a whine.

But where does this whimsical
Figure hide when the trumpets
Of activity and evidence of
Vitality roar down through
Grey clouds and spill
Across valleys?

Silence goes wherever it is welcomed.

Behind closed bedroom doors,
In the shared air of two people
Enjoying each other's absence
Of thought.

Between lines of prose,
In the spaces you leave behind
As you continue
Moving forward.

When the worst is assumed
About this or that,
Like the horror of silence
and its clumsy ways,

Moments are lost to
Marching bands and
Irrelevant chatter.