I exist as a mirror
Wild lights have glazed over your skin
My whispers are tarnished
Our bodies a shield
Against the coming chills of a brittle wind

I linger with a breeze-like touch,
It comes out hoarse and swollen.
Thoughts  uttered with a breath of regret
Or a sigh of relief.

Your face turns foreign, a mesh of dark warmth
A light without the sun.
We’re all a wounded red
on the inside.

You wonder
why I wiggle
so much
why my legs
bounce,
and my hands
twitch.
Truth is,
my mind
can't slow down
It doesn't know
how to take a day off,
its far too good
at tormenting me
more and more
with each
passing second.

-JRM

Dear World,
My stomach growls and it reminds me of that empty covered. I remember those shelves. I was so short, so young, and still I knew there was nothing. There wasn’t a pack of crackers just out of sight. There was nothing. So now I’m left with a reminder; a reminder that never leaves my side. My stomach growls and it reminds me of that empty covered and how it made me cry.
To the many loved and cherished children of the worldly blest families,
TRUTH

At night I place my hand over my heart.
Feeling for the beat that means I'm still alive.
Still here. Still breathing. Still worth it.

I can remember the day you brought me flowers.
You showed up, shirt pressed, with that same sad smile.
I didn't want to tell you the truth.
That my lips had already known another man,
that my finger tips burned at the thought of his skin.
So instead I told you that I only saw you as a friend,
despite the weeks of rough *** and stolen time together.
After everything, how could I admit that you were so much more?
I'd already proven that you were clearly not enough.

Tonight I'll place my hand over my heart with tears in my eyes.
Praying that for once I'll be able to believe it's beat means I'm still alive.

They surround me in the dim streetlights,
Watching my every move,
Turning corners and disappearing into night,
As I make bad decisions again,
It's as if they are ashamed,
My judgments are my own,
And they know it,
They flee from me,
Walking into darkness and shadow,
Turning away and disappearing,
Heads hung in shame,
Saddened cries and tears not known to me,
As angels walk toward home,
And telling God,
'Not today'
Angels walk away from me.

It's difficult being a godess,
From what she says,
Listening closely to the cries of those afflicted,
Surrounded by pleas and self-acrimony,
And the Ill-nature of things,
Her soul abounds with sympathy,
Her will strikes down her empathy,
Suffering begets compassion,
Be it beast or human fashion,
In the mind of mortals,
It is through these portals,
Redemption is often found.

Tonight I'll try and mask the tears,
That pound against the arid ground,
Like thunderous rains in the Texas night,
Rumbling from a strike of light,
Rivers swell and breach the banks,
Like hearts left lonely,
And eyes left blank.

What would happen if when you came home.
I was sprawled on the floor.
With a bottle of pills in my stomach.
or
With a rope tightened around my throat.
or perhaps
Wrists cut deep,
Thick red all over your nice clean floor.
Because that would be your biggest concern.
Your freshly cleaned floor

**I hope it stains.

Burning close
I feel the flames
Bodies start to dissolve
What have I done?
Glancing down at trembling hands
Holding your body
You disintegrate as you lean in
Parts of you turn to ash
To leave your outline
My heart broke
Mind racing
Heart pounding
Contemplating my actions
Pondering what has happened
I remember
You lied
As the lit match lie against the floor burning
You shattered my heart to pieces
I watch you
Fire blazing
I turn my back and walk