The calendar shed its last leaf of chances,
Three hundred and sixty six windows shut;
The moon has undergone a dozen phases,
But no high or low tide can get you past.
Your lackadaisical methods and indecision,
Failed to find that door to a good year;
And you're suffocating in your desperation,
Like a nightmare trapped in its own fear.
Eleven disappointed months fall in line,
Even December has already accepted its fate;
Cascading like lifeless dominoes you'll find,
Scattered in the wastes of your world inanimate.
Self-abhorring like a snake biting its own tail,
Aimlessly mindfully going around in circles;
Reading rejection letters and spam emails,
Looking for false hope in a perpetual cycle.
Making a promise you know you can't keep,
Like the past new years that will have come and gone;
Where you always try to count all your sheep,
And your wolves will make sure to give you none.

my dear
do not fall for the broken ones
i know what it's like to crave being needed
but just because they are broken doesn't mean you can fix them

my dear
never blame timing
i strongly believe that everything happens when it happens for a reason

my dear
love at first sight is real
however that doesn't mean it will last forever

my dear
let the world bruise you
let it tear you apart
this is the only way to learn that you can heal from anything

my dear
there is no beauty in being damaged
there is beauty in surviving
there is respect in surviving
and there is art in surviving

my dear
never try and fill the void you feel with another's body
this will only make it bigger

my dear
we tend to break our own hearts
loving others too much and ourselves too little


my dear
you have to accept that some people will stay in your heart and on your mind endlessly
but i promise it won't hurt forever

she is dancing down the hallway
laughing like the world is made of all the good things
like her favorite flowers and twinkling lights

and god how i wish i could bottle this moment
pull her close and protect her from the harsh reality of heartbreak
when she realizes that not everything is made out of ribbons and glitter

but for now i revel in this moment
watching her twirling down the hallway
thinking that she is my world
that she is full of all the good things

since then
my demons have crawled down my throat and nestled their way into my very being
i have regurgitated all happiness that once clung to my body
and siphoned the hope out of my heart

i have spent entire nights calculating how many mg's it would take to reach the brink but not step over
and wondered what it would be like to free fall into oblivion

i have been hospitalized three times
and drawn my own blood countless times
hoping that if i practice enough i could create a masterpiece

i have also found atomic love
the kind that rattles your bones and draws you closer to the sun than you ever thought you'd get
but bombs tend to detonate and i broke my own heart

i have made my mother cry begging me to eat
curled up in the bed next to her and cried until i fell asleep

since then my world has shifted on it's axis
and come to a complete halt
.

Beneath the
burning snowflakes
of my consciousness
I stand
ensconced in ice
a statue in
your garden
all the verdant,
living treasures
I have given
around you,
burst from
my womb
in volcanic fibers
molten lava
of puce
of ochre-toned
vibrancy
that pierces
through the strata
of our own
personal history
archeological insights
of who we have been
love in frequencies
that once
met their destination
echoes of fire
falling in viscous
bands of liquid
upon my outspread fingers,
uncaught
You
once loved me in parts
  My snowflowers
will stay with us
but I will not
the tenth
of me that you see
is already disappearing
worn down
from your stance
of constant dark
not the dark of richly
pungent mineral layers
of blackest black
but lackluster
in taste and texture
no match
for my warrioress heart
For deep inside
this clear glass casing
are rivulets
flash floods
about to break
the gelid frost surface
bursting through
in cracks
like end-of-winter
river rushes
like seismic explosions
sulphur-rocked
My wild totem
is emerging
antlers glowing from
my crown
They are clashing
rustling up trees
whipping winds of magic
that tumult
right past the
icicles of your posture
And the last gift
I will ever
give to you
are the shards
that have already
melted from my
own estric heat
and, even then,
you will be too numb
to understand

and now, comes
       in resonated whisper
*my soul is out the door