standing in front of the mirror
the reflection warped by perception
the water running, endlessly
the shadows are breaking
that inner part of me

standing in front of the mirror
watching the light soften upon
the bones swelling underneath
the sea of flesh and skin

standing in front of the mirror
and not seeing what I want to see
not understanding
why it never goes away

the thoughts in my head
the doubts clouding
my line of thread
the insecurities stinging that
golden color in me  

a swarm of wasps
****** endlessly
and my emotions run high
and swell so that it pushes
up my throat

the world begins to cascade
as the tears spill from my eyes
I break through the door
away from the ******* mirror

sometimes I wish
I could never see the image
reflected on its surface
ever again

a girl blows out a candle
and the darkness envelopes
silhouettes pressing in corners
comes rushing in, cursing, hissing,
screeching

this girl sees herself in the mirror
cropped hair, bare neck
brown eyes, full lips
and she screams in frustration
not at herself
but at the world which bustles around her

ceaseless, ruthless, a consistency of paradox
as greed shapes in form of monetary crosses
and twisted women urge less for best
until skin melts away to bone
and bodies transmitted into test scores

this insignificant girl
fights her battle day after day
and weeps the joy out from her veins
she has learned to blow out the candle
and to realize she is nothing in the world
nothing,
nothing but her image of self love

Who am I
With the settlement
In what I consistently do
In what I unconditionally feel
To entertain your happiness
Just as they are my own
Most, in fact is
The love I have
For my friends
Family
&
You...

And what would it feel like
I always ask myself
Striving to be the best
Filling my cup of tea
By the affection reciprocated
Yet to actually have a beloved
Who would unconditionally
Feel and do the same
For me

a naked personality
sometimes treasured
mostly
peeled of the static
engraved and lathered
thickly like a suffocating stench~
I''ll eradicate it,
like a sheep's breath
warm as swaying hay
yet cool as dawning dew
gently soothing the screeching fray  
and now to sit vulnerable
and wear our identity
in the fabrics of our sleeves
don't lose sight as we
stare obsessively
wandering mindlessly
the direction of our time
as it ticks endlessly
as we yearn for
the mechanics
to make the pain
hurt less

at glances of you
in memory behold imagined
shimmery doves uncertainty domain
too risky to remain

by your side, I know
though one can never truly realize
unless courageous
like frosted shimmering snow flakes
cascading from bleached skies
oh how I wish I could reach
and speak how my heart flies

How to stay anything a world gone mad
sickening consumption
so egos may last
bellies teetering
gitty with greed
and yet we all wonder
why there is so much bad

it's all spinning backwards
everything is concaving
why are we so comfortable
being so blind?  
despise the overgrowth,
yet they present life
killing mammals for sport
yet not to eat what they killed

why so tethered to that of our
computer screens
doesn't it bother anybody
there is a world to see
why,  I must ask, why
the people are growing tired of ****
the government can be of so much more

yet the white men reek in their thrones
not knowing anything
calling a nation their own
when really it's the money
which keeps their ego afloat

history repeats itself
doesn't anybody know
the protests and death
alluding to a brink of war

and who would tell
those mad fools
who would cure
the ambiguity in
their holes

a secrecy worn
like fabrics of warmth
articulate abbreviate hurts and scorns
so that the day may be comfy and soft

shadow cloak smudging those vowels
anything that may howl
so it may not wake our minds
we have blanked out in kind

and as the jitter and glitter
fades in moonlight casts grey
our insecurities scattered like glass
how our mouths refuses to swallow

Shut blinds glowing warmly
Clementine yellow and hazy mustard
Shaved ghostly plywood
Cluttered with picture frames
And beckoning swirly glances
Eyes irises of golden wooden fiber
Creeping smell of freshly baked bread
Buttery and lustful smothered with
Raspberry jam or honey rivulets
Dark, deep burgundy lipstick
Tinted like lavender silk
A lone girl sitting in in empty room
Transfixed as the pleasures
Take a stronger hold

single,
a troublesome definition
dumbfounded by it's lack
of conviction
single,
a single note harrowing
in an extravagant orchestra
a single notion
caught staring across the room
a single spoonful
of sugar in tea
a single stitch
in a new dancing queen
a single detail
swimming in overwhelming
distractions,
it's beautiful to me
you see,
single**

a single person
is living and breathing
somewhere on this globe
all there needs to be
is a single moment
a glitch in time,
a space reservation
to say hello

sitting in place very, very still,
underneath the glimmer of the sky,
the liberals have arrived so don’t try to think,
I keep the strum of ruined heartstrings and pluck to a gateway bliss,
we all live and swim through sickness of strife as misfits,
pursue the gawking geese careening in the big blue sky,
look there, there we all point to the everlasting feast
the sheer of pretty pink and dripping orange marmalade skips a beat
I squeeze my knuckles so they go white, spending hours in the bright light,
oh how my lungs yearn for the touch of cold, cold sky breath,
caress the dazzling light which pierces through a curtain of death,
yet everyday spinal chords whistle out of tune
and painted carriers go out and dig out those buried runes,
so before falling, I look into irises and their missed faces
Yet, I only end up scratching the slippery opaque surfaces,
and those heartstrings render and contort, visions passing over the horizon
and those smudges of graphite I use to write are frightened,
leaving traces in the music I must have mistaken
as my own

a conversation in my head

It’s just a coincidence.
                                                              You sound more afraid than sure.
What defines us as the sane one?
The fact that you have voice in your head or that fact that I exist?
                                                                                   The fact that you exist.
And I’m not just a figment of your imagination.
                                                                           Then that makes me insane.
*Precisely. This is a slippery *****, my friend.

my mind small,
my hands small,
my words reach
not so far
I exist only with
a heart

soft scuffles, flurry into the frigid temps
the white frozen crystals cascade silently
opaque grey skies bellow in furry
spitting more cold as my feet tread
haphazardly, the cold bites my lungs
I run, breathing heavily
treading thick footfalls and smiling earnestly
whipping through trees, toppling over rocks
today I drove to the mountainside
knowing quite well a blizzard was brewing
distinctively reflecting the recklessness inside of me
but this was something which I love to do
to feel my heart beating and my body competing
against the coldness blown my nature
a hint of carelessness sometimes brings out
the best in me,
thick hat and slimming tights
yak tracks to keep my shoes from slipping
skirting around fallen logs and hearing
the crackle of frozen river beds
the sun simply glowing upon the snow beds
as I made my way around the mountain bend
golden light melted, filtered through the
pine leaves, stifling sweetness
with that of the coldness
I couldn't feel my cheeks and my toes
were growing numb,
yet I am much too used to that now
my thighs were beginning to burn
and ice kissed along my exposed neck
there hasn't been anyone to do that lately
I could see my breath puff out in front of me
reminding me that I am still very much living
it's not me and my head anymore
its me and the mountain, running without
no apparent reason,
other than to feel loved
by that of the intimate curves
and the treading of my
sore feet

I fell in love,
I fell in love with the way
my heart swells and my chest heaves,
which my hands scarred from the memory
of past paintings and draining endeavors
sweat plastered to my face and my eyes
shining, shining so bright
for I caught the glistening heat,
the elusive heat which I waited
a hundred, a thousand lifetimes
and eternal failures
I stride, run, scramble up
the side of the mountain side
and I scream out "This if ******* mine!"
with the brilliant, Prussian blue and cerulean
infinite sky and whisked clouds bleeding
like the blinding light of a rich sunset,
I fill my lungs with the crisp, pure air
smell the scent of mint and pine
and feel the ferocious wind whipping in my hair
and whistling in my ears,
and at this moment I understood,
nothing could ever measure
to the heat of being *alive

There has to be something
and sometimes
that is enough

Blue shadows slither uphill
The sun smothers behind the glade
Of trees--
                A barrier,
A fortification to the wounded kinks
                 In my chest

The silent vowels which breathes
Upon every current of pollen-carried breeze
The red,
                A lovely, dark malevolent glare
Which seeps into the soil at my feet
And top the soil like sprinkles of
                Ruby dew drops  

The grazing glance of blue--
Blue of the midnight,
              Blue of wild, turmoil waves
Crashed  
              Rolling
                         Thundering
Which creep to my feet
Gusted by the pillar of trees

I sit still with knees held to my chest
Pondering at the beating against walls
Walls I refused to breach before

The drumming--
                        The unprecedented humming
Which rattle into the marrow of my bones
And echo, traveling the hollow curves
Snaking--
                Spiraling--
So that voices may carry
And whisper in my ear

This pulsing streak  
Radiates into the folds of my limbs
And I cannot possibly catch my breath
                 Waiting to catch,
                             Waiting to listen,
Waiting for something to happen

After years of silent of calls
                  Years of fortified smiles
Just to break the fall

One day,
            Maybe this day
It is time to

Sitting on the glossy bed of grass
Smells enriched by the scorch of suns and brass
The joy--
           The ecstasy--
To feel the stones crack
Break the wall created to deprive

And as the midnight blue
Shimmy onto my toes
             And travel up my feet--
Over my head,
             Tying a knot in my hair,

The dew drops twinkle
Now like pebbles of obsidian
And the field of green
               Is now an expanse of black

Where have I gone?

When you look at me I don’t want to be understood but strange to the touch, I don’t want to be an open book.
When you speak to me, I want my words to unfold like a riddle so that no one can ever hold the key.
But last winter I lost the key and I found it in the pocket of your jacket or underneath your pillow at night or next to your tapping keyboard, I lost the key to the walls I built to protect the tsunami from breaching.
Words rolled off like butter on toast and the honey just stuck to everything I spoke. My fingers hardened and curled into talons, so that everyone I touched I seemed to pierce their skin and penetrate their loneliness. Sorry if I have left a mess of scattered feathers, once so snowy white now dull grey clouds.
But yesterday I reached into my pocket and felt the key nestled so pleasantly.
So now when my talons pierce or my words stick, beware where you thrown your net. I might soar overhead, with feathers glistening and combing the air.
You can’t sight me anymore, but that’s the point. I don’t want people to look at me.
How can I possibly allow them to do so, if I can’t even see my own self?



but perhaps there is a spare,
a spare key

terrified while the encompassing spasms
that crashing glitch sunk into my brain
memories and doubts repeating like frames
I can’t go about living under so much pain

Those who seek for the greater spectrum
Fall victim to their own faulty wisdom
Diving forth without looking both ways
Only to find their body collided in both directions

Try to swim through the manifesting confusion
Finding our clothes soggy and reeking
The fabric smitten by all the wrong we do
Never coming to realize it’s not all about you

The angry emotions rage inside the few
Livid, sitting at a desk with fingers in queue
The tapping rhythm of writers under siege
Wanting to ease the honesty overwhelming

Please don’t fall, don’t wait in line
That lime green glow isn’t accounted for
There is so much more
Than living a life unaccompanied  

For the longest time I thought I needed love
Under the darkest nights I sat alone
Covering my ears as the darkness
Began to whisper I was worth nothing

Without company I found my own
In the art of words and syntax of paint
In the minds of books and lives of friends
Picking my shattered pieces one at a time

A clapping thunder of realization
There is too much beauty for a “one”
I can walk this life alone
Finding happiness whoever I find to be

sunshine,
rain crisply tattering
on the gazebo wooden beams
where the moss grows tall
the daisies wither naught
and duo respirations
beating like a thunderous soar
of golden warmth
as two breathing souls
consume the tattering rain
and faint bleak sunshine
under a wooden beam
and moss-grown roof
waiting patiently for the
other to finally
speak

a field of wheat
blue scoundrel of sky
clouds pearly fond like marbles
as ravens streak unbending nigh

craning my neck to the never-ending ascent
cemented stairs narrowing into dizzying consent
flickering, dull neon lights,
my shoes tapped as I puffed
above the steps of flight
the air was cool,
posters plastered on the gloss
sharpie scribbled pertaining messages
historical analogies, flashback memories
creak, the heavy metal door opened
place a stopper, shush my breath away
before me splayed an array of shafts
wooden beams and rotating lighting crafts
silent and dark, empty and stark
I tiptoed and clung to the ladder
tasting like metal and smelling of riddles
I finally sit, spotter vibrating in hand
the piercing white light following my
every trail
headset fastened, murmuring conversations
the show is starting in
3
2
1
go
actors file onto the gleaming stage
vibrant hues and melancholy shadows
each element working in unison
my hands spotting the beams
flashes of color
ringing tones of vocal chords
musical, theater performance
and I sit in my booth
hands tingling from light's heat
watching the show unfold,
behold, transform,
beneath my feet

A bright wake of snow
Glimmering where
The grey meets sky
Forging and drifting,
Mounds and side sweeps
Banking against the tall
Pillars of trees
Pine and brisk peppermint
Trickling with the frigid chill
Tinkling wherein a sigh ascends slow
And crunch crunch
More silent noise to follow
Of hot, swirling breath
And Rosemary cherry cheeks
Curly blond hair and a pair of glasses
Glinting like the moon basked in glory
Her hands clutched
Nimble fingers wrapped around something
And with every step she took
Golden light radiated from the coals
Sheltered in her hands,
Hovering over her chest
The golden light rippled over the snow
An array of grass and orchids sprung
Wherever it willed
And thus the snow began to melt,
Taming the sublime spur of
The frozen maiden of winter's felt
The maiden of Spring puts forth
The blossoms and rich sweet air
The color of honey and petals which unfold
Spring walks through the forest of else
Where the cycles reroutes
Of begin anew, of life and something else

A hazy spring nap
The golden sunlight filtering
The dried herbs burning

My eyes heavy
Breathing slow like molasses
Dashes of honey green

A stupor taking hold over me
A stillness that buffers
The cruelty of the outside

surely, yes surely
          the swindling sway
                 of frost bitten leaves
crushed to the marrow
             of another dinner's eve,
                   tender hands steeped in oils
fragrance wafting like
             the soft moss underneath feet,
                      a candle lit, drowned
in the droning stream
              of coursing music,
                       strings like an airy vessel
teetering like the flight
             of a subordinate trickle,
                        an orchestra crooked in

the loves which steeps

Pale, smooth skin a moonlight kin
Pale luminescent sheer subtle like pearls
Crackling laughter like pebbles
Skipping over rippling lake shore
Big round, cerulean eyes
Boundless leagues sea scape horizon
Drinking in the sight of the heavens
Cheeks soft and cool salmon pink
Lone stretched shadow rippling
Over blades of glass soft to the touch
His lips upturned crescent soft spoken
Laden with a story waiting to unfold
Trembling yet still to the marrow
Thinking about nothing at all

Soft, glowing touch of iridescent blue
Gently caress the splintered skin
Stretched tightly around knuckles
Which wouldn’t give in,
I’ve been keeping my eyes open
Been bloodshot and shining
From the beauties and tragedies
Yearning, striving desire
Relentless tug underneath
Hidden door locks and silver keys
Not even your sound can wedge
Between what can truly be mine