Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs,
Eyes rolled by white sticks,
Ears cupping the sea's incoherences,
You house your unnerving head -- God-ball,
Lens of mercies,
Your stooges
Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow,
Pushing by like hearts,
Red stigmata at the very center,
Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of
departure,

Dragging their Jesus hair.
Did I escape, I wonder?
My mind winds to you
Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable,
Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous
repair.

In any case, you are always there,
Tremulous breath at the end of my line,
Curve of water upleaping
To my water rod, dazzling and grateful,
Touching and *******.
I didn't call you.
I didn't call you at all.
Nevertheless, nevertheless
You steamed to me over the sea,
Fat and red, a placenta

Paralyzing the kicking lovers.
Cobra light
Squeezing the breath from the blood bells
Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath,
Dead and moneyless,

Overexposed, like an X-ray.
Who do you think you are?
A Communion wafer? Blubbery Mary?
I shall take no bite of your body,
Bottle in which I live,

Ghastly Vatican.
I am sick to death of hot salt.
Green as eunuchs, your wishes
Hiss at my sins.
Off, off, eely tentacle!

There is nothing between us.

Did I forgive you too easily?
I tried to be angry.
But you have this effect on me.
I know it sounds silly.
As I sit here; smiling.
You said you were looking at me.
I wonder now what it is you were seeing?
I tell you all the time.
Won't you do the same?
Point out the little things.
There has to be so many.
I'm afraid one day I won't be the same and you won't want me.
That my body will have changed.
I want you to tell me I'm pretty.
I don't believe it's ever been said.
You've touched me. Made me feel you wanted me. Begging. But you've never really told me. I think you're amazing. But it's always me. I've got a goofy look on my face and I'm biting down on my index finger. Wishing you would say something. Instead. You kiss me, too hard this time. Are you trying to tell me something? Just say it. Please. Just say it.

I do not hold feelings as much as I can
do without.

Empathy
now that's a whole different ball game

jesus *******--
breathe me
inhale me fit my heart in the space between your lungs and your ribcage like it's the apocalypse
(seven hours to live at the end of the world)
press your hand against my neck,metal digging into your skin like knives
i'm sorry about the way i push my fingernails into your wrist
i just want to feel something
break the skin(seven layers and a martyr complex)and tell me what you find
i'm nobody's hero
you can only bear to look at me at night,when darkness covers my face like a shroud
i'm everybody's funeral pyre
you're an ashtray waiting to be dusted off(you never told me you wanted to be cremated)
you inhale and take a step back.choke out a weak i don't wanna die and wait for my fist to connect with your cheek,****** knuckles and a hint of desperation you won't try to stop me--
IT MAY BE DIFFICULT FOR THOSE SUFFERING FROM POST TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER TO VOCALIZE THEIR STRUGGLES IN A WAY THAT MAKES SENSE--
my mouth is one big bruise,sweat and tears spilling from it like blood from a wound
(the **** on my cheek;you put it there.i helped,or rather,i didn't do anything to stop you.)
THOSE WITH PTSD WILL FREQUENTLY HAVE EPISODES WHERE THEY FEEL THEY ARE RELIVING THE TRAUMATIC EVENT OR EVENTS. THEY MAY NOT RECOGNIZE YOU, BUT IT IS IMPORTANT TO TRY AND HELP THEM THROUGH IT.
you pretend it doesn't break you when i ask who you are(when i tell you through a haze of remembrance that i should've died too)
you don't see the bruises snaking up my arm like tattoos,like they were always meant to be there
i guess someone should have told me that carving *i love you and i'm sorry into a bullet doesn't stop the bleeding
but i love you and i'm sorry
the human heart beats on average 2.5 billion times in a lifetime
mine was only supposed to beat 7.3 million times and i guess that's why i feel so cold all the time
take me out,a lightning bolt to the heart
(a momentary feeling of loss and then silence)
they say you can feel someone in your head after they've died
i guess it's a good thing that we were never connected, wires pretending to be veins
this is a love letter disguised as a suicide note
i know i'm not supposed to say anything but god,i love you
jesus *******--
breathe me.

Shadows dance upon the hemlocks
as falling sunlight kisses conifer-tops,
the warblers fight the settling breezes,
echoing the symphony of cicadas
whispering good night
to all the other beautiful trees
& wood spirits swimming
in the cool gurgling-creek.
Thank you Lord.

We are okay ..
Are the words you should never say
to someone like me
someone who can see
the salt particles in the deep blue sea

we are okay ..
but the truth is we will never be fine
as long as I exist in your life and you exist in mine.

Our behavior
Is like a
Mirror

It's the reflection
Of who we
**truly are

The child I was
Was the child I became
Sad, silent eyes that I don't remember
Showing
To myself Or
The world
My world was small and narrow
And surrounded by people that that I liked and even loved
However
Puzzling they seemed
Lots of friends as puzzled as I at this strange
World populated by those large, tall and passionless adults, calling the Many words of friendship
Not only I mistrusted.
We grew together and apart
And mourned those we lost in whatever ways,
The next generation children of the
Generations before
And before them.
We didn't think to complain
No one did then.
And now?
We finally find,  and I hope its not only I,
That the freedom
We've sought In so many
Inappropriate and self- destructive
Solutions, began
With one small journey
That stretches into some far off horizon
None of us can see.