of evident invisibles
exquisite the hovering

at the dark portals

of hurt girl eyes


sincere with wonder

a poise a wounding
a beautiful suppression

the accurate boy mouth


now droops the faun head

now the intimate flower dreams

of parted lips
dim upon the syrinx

sometimes i pull up my shirt
look down at my bare tummy
and sigh.

why can't you be better, tummy?
why can't you be smaller
nicer
softer
better?

like a child
i am chiding
tut-tutting
at its misbehavior

tummy, i do so much for you
i skip meals
and don't drink water
and wrap you in all kinds of weird dyi concoctions
and lotions
i take pills
and cry before seeing the boy that i like
all for you,
tummy.

why can't you be
like the other ones
why must you be
the way you are?

i will fix you.

One more scar..One more bad memory..

I am going to be leaving you in about 2 months.
And oh, how I cant wait for the sort of poems I'll write.

Silent and Dark
Not sure if I'm breathing,

Are my eyes open?...

No one else is here...
No one I can see.

      Darkness...
Nothing, but darkness,

No noises coming from elsewhere,
No noises coming from me...

Am I breathing?

I can't move to feel around...

Am I standing?

I try to sigh
To make a noise,
But I can't
I struggle and try to move,
But nothing happens...
My body tingles, but remains still...

I try to scream, but my mouth dares not utter,
As if thinks it ought not to.

Am I dying?
Am I already dead?

Try as I might, nothing happens...

     I am not dreaming...
     I know that I am awake
                And I am afraid...

Finally,
I sit up with a start,
Nearly screaming,
          Close to crying,
                   My body aching...
I've just escaped the terrible Grip,
That only by analogy,
              Can be described:

        Sleep Paralysis...
                 Is like
               Oblivion...

Consistency is thinning with the sun
Our minds crawl-
Yet  race on overdrive inside our homes and out in the damp streets.
Simple static,
A mental block of conscious
spread by word of mouth from one disaster to the ****** birth of another.
Another bag of bones,
Clanking over our shoulders-
With heavey arms to bare with
Another gust of wind full of ashes and crowds all dressed in black with their throats in knots.
The words inside our mouths burn as they leave
There is a kid with a guitar on the outskirts of it all.
Watching in as the faces drain from the bodies in the streets.

So he began to sing.
He sang about shades of grey
He sang about the spaces in between
And he sang about the heart that’s been thrown among one person’s beliefs to another’s lack of.
He strummed until the sky turned a shade of blue which resembled his mothers eyes on the night he learned what strength and will was.
As the wind hushed,
The crowd began a melancholy motion,
with their backs turned to all that was
Some with new sight and others in disbelieving disgust.
But one thing held constant-
though time had been tampered and irreversibly changed
They all hurt the same
Each mind had been scrambled like eggs

(C) Tiffanie Doro