Good Morning,

Is it strange for you?
Is it strange to forget or is it the usual everyday story
There's clamor outside and I need to shed your memory
I am watching as the ties that never bound
lie threadbare, swept aside into a darker place not meant for prisoners
It is strange for me.
Very strange to be amongst the forgotten and re-arranged
Is that all it is, or was this, this strange little drive through the unknown
more than i wished, desired or paid for with the all the change i had
Are you pockets empty, were you the thief or I ?

Shall we be civilized now, will you play at the charming masquerade
and i at the debutante ball
shall we feign a friendly nonchalance, real as the time goes by

It's just that, well you see
I can't quite understand which is true
that you were worth the silence, or not at all.

Sincerely,
me

Count the bird who fly by the window
Note the forest's true voice and glow
I dream one day I'll steal away
In a mess of green and forever stay.
Sence not the sound of drunken society
But the smell of nature's sweet sobriety
Over come my hearts one desire,
Evade, to set the world on fire.

When I was a little girl
I had a best friend
and her and I
we would bathe together

and we thought about the bubbles
that drifted effortlessly from the surface of the water

and we thought about the warmth
of the water that surrounded us

and we thought about how easily
we could float from one side of the bath to another

and never in a million years did it occur to us
that we were both naked

and it never crossed our minds
how vulnerable we were to each other
or to the world

I think about my best friend sometimes
she's married now
her wife is really beautiful
she sent me a photo

I wonder if she ever thought of me
the way she thinks of her wife
when we bathed together

probably not

While we are not done sleeping,
the early day awakes.
Beginning up above-
As lemon yellow drips across the sky
Crimson bleeds into the clouds
Gold beams spotlight shadows
Radiating from their ever burning host.
Sweet orange is squeezed onto the horizon
As the firey sunshine glows, no longer by itself:

Emrald fire begins to dance upon the ground,
Letting lime find itself in the early morning grass.
Ivy creeps between the smallest places
And jade paints itself into the leaves.

Sapphire jewels rain down
Falling into indigo waves.
Cerulean lakes shimmer upon a frozen land
As cobalt sheds itself into the depths
And navy darkness smudges everything.

All while we are sleeping.

The painter wakes up early,
Careful not to miss it all.

On the darkest night of early winter
The wind beat at my back
Whipped at my hair
And threw me to the ground
It howled along to the screeching of the ravens’ calls.

Eyes of bright yellow glowed from behind dying trees
Covered in a dusting of freshly fallen snow
Still falling
The tracks behind me, disappearing.

The moon above revealed itself under dark clouds
Briefly lighting the holes between the trees
And lighting my way

Copper burned my tongue
From chapped lips
The harsh wind making its way into my throat
Turning tongue to sandpaper.

The moon, fat and round
Now hides behind wispy clouds
Teasing the world
Teasing me with its light and its absence.

Fingers, red and numb
Are stuffed deep into pockets
Cheeks are raw
Wind, lashing into my eye sockets
Is blinding

My pace, however, does not slow
And I hum a childhood song that tickles my chapped lips
To pass the time.

The ravens’ caws draw to an end
As the eyes behind the trees gently close
My frozen fingers still encased at my sides
My wind-burned flesh still red and raw
Full moon poke its head out from inside the clouds
My watery eyes, freezing, shut softly
Lips no longer make a sound.

Once upon a time,
In a land far away,
A day for a dime,
Is now a dollar a day.

They thought they increased,
The worth of the dollar,
Instead the released,
Every other scholar.

Without all the knowledge,
A nation will die,
Jump off of a bridge,
Water full of their lies.

It's the circle of life,
I hope you will see,
Fall under the knife,
A knife of deceit,

As it is the end,
The final roll-call,
Goodbye, to my friends.
I won't miss you at all...

In the place where the moon meets broken shadows, it begins with the swelling of my eyes  

Tears roll across the scars, that no one else can see

A phantom’s curse

Only this place can release my from this dystopian enchantment

The sweet smell alone entangles me with feelings of safety and wonder

For a reality flooded with forest flowers and a throbbing wind

It teases my subconsciousness, it trickles down to my soul

Like a an agonizing murmur

The hypnotic web forms

In this quiet place clouds hurry across confusing shadows

Shivering in the delicious sunlight

My immaculate hour of rediscovery begins…