leave me be
simply*
to my desires
my spoiled treasures
and dangerous
*adventures

That piercing glimpse of reality
When you see a person
In utter
Three dimensions,
Nothing is so riveting
Wanting to steal a little part
To cherish forever

the fabrics which sew
my **** together
have been unraveling
since the day
I have met you

Fold into those
Who cherish
Close to their hearts

single pluck of guitar string
grandiose and gentle
smooth and beautiful

a child, a squinty-eyed youth
huddling in the street corner
searching, looking, at the pieces of silver
scattered, embedded in the dark, dark soil
stubby nose and brunette, crouching
low like a chesapeake blue crab,
shuffling with deft cunningness,
eyes pried for the shards of lost glimpses,
of unforeseen specks wandering lost
in an inconceivable oblivion,
and there the child crouches,
eyes pried and squinted amidst the glaring
brightness projected form
a thousand burning suns,
and here the child sees, touches
the intangible threads emanating
from the fibers of raw imagination
fueling the gaze to peer at the stars, the galaxies
to create a world which surpasses
beyond the dingy pavement at the corner,
embedded with shards of silver

Sometimes I feel
As if I'm sunlight
Filtering through the trees
Fighting to stay conscious
In a world I would rather
Dream

The implementation of vowels
The flirtation between us and them
...between me and you...

Sometimes I don't write
Sometimes I bleed
And sometimes I don't write to everybody
I certainly do not bleed for everybody
Well here is a ******* secret
Sometimes I bleed just for you

But you wouldn't know that
Have anyone told you that you are an idiot?
So that makes me an idiot.
Right?

Like you know how after reading
A really inspiring quote or phrase
Written by a wise white dead man
(because they all seem to be)  
You feel excited and intrigued and special
and feel like you actually can do something...

Sometimes, I wish you were that old inspiring quote
And make me believe
And make me feel like I can actually
feel special for once

Did you know
There is a division of happiness:
that one's happiness may be raw
and inflamed within the moment,
a streaking comet
which will grasp
the ******* world
in such raw vigor,
such wild, unpredictable beauty

And there's the other:
Happiness derived of meaning.
Thoughtful,
Level headed,
Guided by purpose,
Standards,
To thrive upon thresholds
to be content within oneself
to serve the greater good...

The thing is
The difference between
Happiness,
and, well,
Happiness...

Is that one is selfish.
And one is selfless.
It's not rocket science:

To ******* take.
To give away.

Sometimes,
I write to everybody
Occasionally, I write to nobody.  

But one thing I do is bleed
I think maybe it's time
to see the trail I have left behind.

And guess what?
It won't be difficult to see it,
I promise.

my love
there is no reason
to store a pocket knife
I know the demons
come pounding
I'll come and light a torch
you know well
where to find me

don't romanticize who we are;*
*runaways like fire and brimstone

A gander into a field
Stained denim jeans
The flagrance of flowers

nothing to keep my mind company*
at the dead of the night
only the night isn't as so
when I have dreams
of building a castle
yet in the darkness it will rise
and in the darkness it shall perish
forever accompanied
by the song of
*traveling wishes

the still, still girl
who fought for her battles
ramming standstill
as the dunes washed beneath
the weight of her heavy, heavy feet
tire and sore-some
from all the miles she had to overcome,
and a wealth of blisters
here, her shadow stretched far and prestine
even under the deep blanket of night,
step after step, without a knight she moves
swiftly through the sandy dunes
knowing, bristling in her heart
only a comet as true to its course
will lay a stop
to the journey which
she wills

At a very young age
I realized I was pocketed,
Rendered with vacancies
In these pockets, I’ve filled
With light—with companionship,
With family, with art and color
And adventures and foolishness
And regrets and difficulty
And confusion and dreams
And a whole lot of life

I am not.
not two planes of ice
sliding across the expanse of one another
I am not.
not the echo of a hollow tree
creeping under the shadow of a hillside
I am not.
not a girl with two blind eyes
which can see perfectly clear
but does not always understand the context
which she captures with her vision
forever scarred within the folded linen
of her precious mind.
She sees.
sees everything etched into the clear
smooth surface of pixie glass
She sees.
sees how the light dances across the surface
the colors which speaks for itself
the form narrowing into two
shapeless ghosts of perception
thrown into the distance
She is not.
Not a folded piece of laundry
which can be cycled into a washer
so that when the cotton goes bad
and stains make her unbearable
she can be cleaned of all
what?
what is there to be cleaned?
she is not a piece of laundry
she cannot be washed anew
in hope for a better version
she is.
I am.

there is nothing more to it

my mind
a pink dawn
my heart
a rippling stream
my soul
in reminisce

maybe it's just me
but if feels like
everyone around me
wants to keep their feet
set firmly on the ground,
no, my friends
my heart will not content to be
so still, without the heat
of a wandering legacy
maybe it's my importance complexion
an arrogance to prove
that I am not like the rest
or to say I have done it
with strife and memories upon hill
yet I refuse to think true
that I cannot touch the stars
which have shone with brilliance
what can I say to myself
if I never tried,
it's my bountiful ignorance
which I have yet to cure
from my mind

looking for you
is like searching for a
gap in the clouds,
under the blanket of night
scattered with ocean sprays
whilst searching down alleyways
lit with fountains of light,
so with a punctured vision
and clothes drenched cold
through a city I don't know
I still search for you

The warmth shared
Between two souls
Is just learning
How to dance
Together

pillars of light
spill like bubbling mirth
so sweet, so healing

a heart which still quakes
a hand which throbs awake
welcome, to all, I say

Sometimes I feel like
We are all solitary flesh
Of floating driftwood
Gone lost in the great expanse
Of the big blue sea
And those who are fated to be
Came from the same tree
Always swimming together
As far as they can see
And the bits and pieces
Which are left behind
Are what remains of the ones
Who have been struck by lightning
A flash of searing heat
The downpour of mournful rain
The blinding white light
And thundering sight
Sometimes we get scorched
Before we find our way

if you exist,*
possibility
*I would like to know

what does it mean
to be my mother's daughter

how much of me
stems from her memories

The moon cradled in its throne
The leaves scatter and crackle
Like the bite of winter’s reprise
Alas, light twinkling
Rectangular scores of color
~oranges and yellows,
Faint and rich
The city is an ocean of light
Alive and swimming
Like the scales of a
Glittering fish

I want to go someplace new,*
somewhere I can purely admire.
pack my bags and go,
*Someplace beautiful, where I can meet beautiful people.

I was once asked by a person
In cold, cold tears
How can I ever count on people
If they just look for what’s
In their best interest,
And I held those bruised fingers
And wiped the coldness
From streaking down
Well
I said
The hardest part in this journey
Is to accept the worst part
In a person
But in only those
You know are worth it
And won’t drag you
*Down with them

with such a big heart
I keep myself up
with such a big heart
it's own weight
can drown me

all I want
is to be held
and not to be
let go
but that's asking
for the world
and that's too much
to ask for