The side profile of a four-poster bed
Was supposed to be the image of luxury
Not the decadent tomb of my comfort
The sanctuary of solitude and rest
Broken by the presence of you and your four limbs

Awaiting the sleep
Shadows in the dark take on greater forms
And the light shed from the doorway behind your skin
Brings no clarity as you lumber closer
Blocking out the hope of dying lights

With a crack
The weight of your head brings you down
Crashing into metallic springs and I am lifted
In that moment
On the thought that maybe
You have lost your consciousness
Perhaps only your conscience
As your hands slither over the flesh of my
Sanctuary

Routine, my arms lash
Your palms in forceful contact with my forearms
Growing, as you rise to bear over me
My sanctuary shrinking, tight
I relax you say, in pleasure
In subservience
In submission and hopelessness
As I retreat behind my eyes, I rely on my one freedom
To move within the corners of my mind
If not the four corners of this bed

I want to be a character in a story.
Not the main character, as I don't want to be notable,
or even be given written actions or words.

To be someone part of the scenery,
In the background,
Who may as well, not exist at all.

I want to exist from day to month,
From hour to minute.
Only, without knowing what that means.

Without knowing what it means
To exist from a time to a time.
I want to experience only the good and only the bad.
There would be no gray area.

My story would not contain
"He woke up, walked three steps to the door, and made a sandwich."
Only, "he fell in love.
he avoided being run over by mere inches,
he, on the beach, bathed in the smooth rays of the sun on a hot glorious summer day."
There would be no boring, pointless, gray area.

These words would be written by the hand of another
Existing only in the imagination of the reader.
I would not even be in the words,
But only the imagery in the mind.

This is my wish, all my hopes and dreams.
To exist in fiction and remain unseen.

What is freedom?
What is sentience,
But the awareness of how to be unhappy.

I was in the street of a busy city.
One of those cold concrete cities
With loud noises and fast paced people.

Standing alone in the warm smog
Nobody noticed me as they passed by,
Walking to wherever they felt they needed to go.

I may as well have been a lamppost.
Not even that, they would notice a lamppost at night
When they use it to guide their way home,
From what ever they were celebrating that evening.

They don't think they could gain,
Any kind of their quick bursts of joy
Through a conversation with me.

Like junkies they go through life
Looking for the next high,
Hoping that whatever high they're on
Will help them get to the next one.

They can't see me.
I am alone.
Chasing lamposts.

Sometimes I wish you could just be real,
When really, it has always been my responsibility
To see you.

Sometimes I just want,
And want, it's uncomfortable
And that's okay.
It's okay to be uncomfortable
To notice that there's more to me,
That there's more to do,
Work to be done.

Sometimes you tell me phrases,
And I reject them,
Throw them deep into your throat.
I'd rather that they burn
Than for them to reach my ears,
That I be responsible for your happiness.
For that, I'm sorry

Sometimes I couldn't see,
Past the haze of anger,
Of angst that I didn't understand.
The guilt I hadn't learned to accept,
The responsibility I needed to avoid.

Sometimes I'm glad,
I had you to hold us up,
To hold me above you
While I threw stones at your head.

Sometimes I wish,
You could see me now,
To know that I'm more
Than what I was.
That I'm capable of choosing
To never be the tower
By your side.

Sometimes I'm happy,
And sometimes I'm grateful.

Write me a poem he said,
My eyes all bleary and red.
Shock of an unwanted pop quiz,
I never meant to enter show biz.

But write him a poem I did,
In my heart, it stayed there, hid.
It rocked the boat of thought and feeling.
Here on deck, I stood there reeling.

I wrote him a poem and here it is.
In my heart, t'will stay there, his.
Endlessly, forever kneeling.
Knowing, wanting. Words revealing.

And then I cut,
   Down into the heart.
         Into truth,
               Into pain,
I tore it all away.
Bled for mercy,
    For hope,
          For ecstasy.
One jagged line
     Marking the end of
                     My scene.
          In my last moments
        On stage,
     I weep for the blood
                 In all things.

I want to write a poem.
No, like I really really really wanna write a poem.
Problem, stick it to me.
Pause
Poems have to be good.
Okay, so a poem doesn't have to be good
However, the point of the art is to have someone read
Those flippy little words that you pulled out
Of some intangible existence and pasted on
The Internet.

The Internet,
So you don't always put it online but,
Other people are "supposed" to read it.
To enjoy it, give you a pat on the back,
Maybe an "I see what you did there".
So poems are supposed to be presentable.
You've got to pay in sweat and ink but,
At least the words themselves are free.

What if I don't wanna have to make a "good" poem?
Okay so I really do want a pat on the back but
Sometimes I really like pasting things from
Intangible existences.
Fancy words right? Let me pat my own back.
Sometimes I just like putting my emotions on paper
While sounding like I read
More dictionaries than Webster.
Ha, ha, sigh.

There's a problem with having to be inspired to write **** down.
Do you think someone pays Taylor Swift's boyfriends
To break up with her
So she can write the
Next big hit?
I wouldn't doubt it.
My guardian angel should make the people around me
Say weird stuff such that I can write about
Walking on waves of shattered glass
Or
Singing of birds in circled flight.
Maybe I'd be better off being hit by a car.
That'd be some pretty touching poetry.

Some people write happy poetry too,
I don't know how they do it.
Sorry but, my world isn't flowers and  butterflies
Enough to warrant discussion of
Staying in the fairy meadow of light.
Sorry, I'm just jealous.

Maybe I just like writing stuff down?
What if I just don't want to be forgotten?
Leaving a legacy in my words more indellible
Than a pat on the back.
Doubt it.

I just don't want to forget.
Brain, why don't you get it?
I'm sitting here getting all intimate with an idea and
The next morning Brain's got no clue what their name is.
Like really, even if we invite a friend over and get creative with
Our tongues and mouths,
Brain doesn't remember the moments shared between us.
Paper doesn't think very well but it's got a decent memory bank.
So I save up for a brand new poem.
I thought words were free.

I'm not funny, she says,
The twinkle in her eye
Sparks laughter throughout the room.
I'm really not, turning in frustration
The corners of her lips reach high.
Forcing them down, she swallows a sigh.
Sometimes she doesn't want to be happy,
But sometimes it can't be helped.

What is love and now has died,
Warm sheets where I once lied.
I only asked to touch your face
Not for the rough and cold embrace.
Now dead behind the eyes,
Here in the home of all your lies.

Now I take the blame,
The price of losing fame.
Because this is just your show,
And now you let it snow.
How I desire heat.
That'd be quite the feat,
To warm my lonely sorrow
And know something of tomorrow.
For burning sparks
And walks in parks
Warm far better the winter's frost
Than the salt of these tears.

But all I feel is burning fire
In this house upon a wire.
The pressure of their heartbeat,
Sheets indifferent to the heat.
If you had let me know your face,
I'd need but only one embrace.

I had asked to see your face
But not to feel a cold embrace.
The home of all your lies,
Yet I sit behind disguise.
Claiming, that to know nothing of tomorrow,
Would bring but bitter sorrow.

Ignore it.
                       The pain
         Goes away
                                       After everything

                      Turns black

Who are they that they get moments with you,
And I get weeks apart.
What prior commitment do you have with them?
And what about our commitment,
Don't respond, I know the answer.

A fortress of silence combats all conflict

I know you don't want to be with me.
Or rather, I know you want to be without me.
Maybe you want to be with me like one wants to be with a chair,
But if you want me gone then leave.
Don't leave me waiting for you.
I'm sorry, as you say
I'm not meeting you halfway
But I'm just doing everything I've ever been taught.
Everything I've ever learned from you.

Just hide it away,
Because maybe tomorrow it'll be gone

And I keep hoping, waiting.
Thinking that next year
You'll be right here,
And I won't be so angry that every moment is wasted
That every moment is precious.
Because moments will be plural,
And so what if it falls apart then
Because maybe we can't stand each other.
But right now I'm investing.
Surviving while all my love is banked,
Locked in a vault a few chairs away,
That won't even look at me
To see what I've learned.

Distance makes the heart grow weak

What if there are no walls?
I quickly stand,
Suddenly not trusting
The solid brick at my back.

What if there was no gravity?
My hopeful thought falls
As my feet stay rooted,
Ingrained into the cold floor.

I stand next to the wall

Staring at its painting
It seems to speak

It's image running parallels
Alongside my thoughts.
With no discernible pattern,  
No reference to any pre-existing material,  
Just color.

The texture is smooth.
The occasional lump sprouts forward,  
Growing from the dent
Where the gasses
Had been trapped beneath the surface.

Held prisoner.
Without concious thought
Of what had happened to it.

everyday, I rise up from my bed so I can sleep
a little longer, and it grows a little taller,
and everyday I rise up so I can sleep
walk a little longer, a little stronger
everyday I break waves to
sleep a little stronger,
and everyday I wish to rise up
to sleep as I grow tired, and taller,
everyday I walk like waves of
sleep and footfalls
and everyday I sleep to rise up
and fall. like feet into bed
everyday, I rise up to sleep
from sleeping in and out of sleeping beds
and everyday I dream of walking,
sleeping into flying beds,
everyday, I sleep from waves
of footfalls rising up to slumber,
and everyday longer and stronger,
falling from up and into sleeping walks of slumber

I'd rather like to stay with you.
To hear the breath inside your words
To know the fever, the heartbeat
Along the lines in your chest.
I'd like to stay there.

I hope you like it here
In this space where I build
Bridges across the gap,
And try to see with my eyes forward.

I don't always succeed.
I try again for me,
To see your words along the walls,
Along the lines that you draw,
To close gaps
And build bridges.
I try to see that you build bridges.

I try to see that you love me,
Like I hope you love me.
I think I need help with the knowing,
Because no beacon of light has lead me there,
No dots on the map have shown me the way.
For I fight myself.
I slash lines along the walls,
Cross mark the pages of words
That you wrote with a fever,
With your heart beating in your chest
And your breath falling along tattered sheets of paper.
And all I'll see is paper.

I'll burn this and try again,
For me.

My eyes begin to close,
And tears begin to fall.
You force my eyes wide open,
Oblivious to stinging tears.
I stare back blankly
And continue to work.

I could just stop, but I keep working,
I could just sleep, but I keep walking.
If only you could understand,
If only you believed.
If only I could cast a spell,
And you could feel my pain.

Sadly I love you,
I could not do that to you.
Even these burdens that I carry,
Are few compared to those of others.
But these shoulders are weak,
These limbs are tired,
They collapse under the weight.

Again, my eyes begin to close,
And tears begin to sting,
I cannot, keep working.
But I must keep walking
Till the break of dawn.
Dawn breaks.

What do you mean?

Well, maybe.

Are you home?

Say what?

No.

Turning sour.

I miss you.

Cute.

With who?

Sounds fun.

What did you do?

You're not talking to me.

What if I don't want to?

I don't expect that of you.

I guess we're playing the same game aren't we?

I love you too.

I wasn't trying to turn my back on you.

I was irritated.

Wasn't trying.

Let's try to be pleasant with each other.

Exsanguination.

I don't know the answer.

Who are you?

It was rhetorical.

I know that.

Doesn't help anything.

What are we doing?

Alright.

Good morning.

Sometimes I feel that you
Don't quite understand the
Gravity
Of the situation
I don't know why you feel that
Jumping ship
Would resolve any suffering
As weight increases exponentially
And you accelerate towards a
Crushing defeat
Moments before I collapse
Without you by my side

So it's scary
I know that,
And I think you know that too.
Yet I want to say "but it's so much worse"
and I can't because it isn't.
It isn't so much worse
It's just that words can only convey
So much.
It's hard
I'm hurt
I cried
She died
The sorrow
The worst
It's just that kind of
Disconnect.
A page break, a fourth wall,
And in the stages of my mind,
I can't play for you what I'm thinking
And I don't expect you to do it in kind.
I can only listen and hold your hand.
Because all I want for you is joy.
Not joy like Christmas Eve at age 6
When mommy made turkey
And you can't help but giggle when you see that big box,
From: Santa.
Joy like, sitting in silence on the beach,
Silent inside and out.
Joy like, sobbing uncontrollably and pulling yourself together
Because she treated you with compassion.
Joy like contentedness, like satisfaction.
Joy, knowing that this mess is just because you're
Human.

because nothing is wrong.

                                  Absolutely nothing.

If I stayed any longer,
Who knows?
I might have gone insane too.

He told me his name.
I never asked him why he was there,
Why everyone else avoided him.  

I regret it now
But now is not the time,
There is no time left.  

He said he could get out
Whenever he wanted.
He just had no reason to go.  
He told me if I would come with him,
Stay with him forever, we’d leave.  

Can you imagine that?
He even said he loved me.  
The weirdest part is, I think I loved him to.
I would keep trying to remember
Where this love was taking place,
In this asylum but, I always forgot.

All we had to do was walk out.  
Nobody touched us.  
When we were out, we ran, and ran, and ran.  
In the middle of the forest,
There was no way they could find us,
We still wanted to be safe.

We found a cave in which we could stay,
Until we had enough strength to explore.
There was plenty of apples and firewood around.  
That first night, I just ate, and ate, and ate.  

I noted the big willow tree
and boulder next to the exit.
Natural, and calm.
This was a place of my refuge,
Where I would be happy.

We set out to explore,
The cave must have been close to the surface,
There were cracks in the ceiling that lit our way.
The cave was filled with tunnel after tunnel.  
Sometimes the tunnel would split into five or six
And we would have to choose one.
Giving the false sense of direction
As we wandered, aimless.
  
When I got scared,
He would assure me it would all be fine.
That must have been the worst lie,
Anyone has ever told me.

I finally worked up the courage
To ask him why he was in the asylum.  
He told me he could fool the mind.
Fool it into believing its body was in pain,
He said his looks could ****.

I scoffed.  

He stared at me,
Completely bewildered.  
I clearly thought him insane.  
He let that slide.  

He never kissed me fully, passionately.  
They were always short and sweet.  
He only brushed my face
When he wanted me to calm down,
Making jokes whenever
I was having second thoughts.
  
He was using me.  
I was a shield, nothing more.  
I would have to be disposed of.

Back to staring,
I realized that his back
Is not made of duck feathers.
My scoff doesn't slide.

I ran faster I’d ever run before.
All this flew through my mind
As I scrambled up from the cave floor for the third time.
The exit was just around the corner.
It just had to be.  

As I stumbled back
Onto the cold hard rock
The exit came into view.
I saw the light shimmering on the broken rock.
The shadow of a willow tree.
Ironically I was so happy I could cry.  
I’d hide in the trees
I’d never have to see this murderer again.  
Tripped for the fourth time.

I looked up,
Still sprawled out on the cave floor.  
There was a hole in the ceiling,
Sending shattered shafts of light to where I was lying.  
I watched the dust fall in lazy spirals.

I jumped off the floor.
Back to my peril,  
I heard his sluggish footsteps.
Turned around for one last look.
He stood in those shattered beams of light
Glaring at me.

Now on my feet, I stood
In the dark half of the spacious hall of rock
As if that would help my situation.  
If only I could fade into the shadows.  
I was trapped.
With no escape but the cave's tunnels behind me,
Or the death awaiting me.  

Just a few more steps back.  

He’s eyes snapped to my feet,
"You don’t want to do that.”
Back to my face.
His smile was only evident in his voice.
He was right.  
I didn’t want to die in that moment.  

The room’s light darkened
As if someone had put out the sun.
I knew it was coming.

I loved him.
He may not love me now.
He may never have.
But I don’t care.  
If I never loved him,
I may not be in this situation,
I might not be about to die.  
But I think just maybe,
It was worth it.  

Those smiles,
Stolen kisses and touches,
Just the sound of his voice.
Running in the middle of the forest
Away from the asylum.
It was all worth the pain I was about to feel.  

We stood staring at each other,
Waiting for the other to make the first move.  
The tension mounted.
Hatred started coming off him in waves,  
Hitting me over and over
Threatening to pull me under.  
I could feel his anger.

The air seemed to thicken,
Weighing down on me,
Forcing from me my last breath.
Draining me of what little strength
I had left to remain standing.

I began to gasp for air,
Unable to feel my lungs expand.
Feel the relief of oxygen in my blood.  
My eyes were locked in his
Begging to turn away,
To save my life.  

I was mesmerized.
Like prey waiting for the snake to strike  
I watched helplessly as his face,
Distorted with anger, began to twitch.  

I could see the words that would end this,
Begin to form on his lips.
Waiting to be released.
***** off his spit stained *****.  
After the agony of anticipation seemed to reach its peak.  
They dropped like acid into the open air.

I lost the fight against the pressure.
Finally crumbling under the strain,
I rested on my knees.
Holding my head in my hands
Preparing to resist the attack.

It hit me full force
Like a subway train at full speed.
I did all I could not to cry out,
To give in to this miserable existence,
To give him the satisfaction of my death.  

I broke out in a cold sweat
As my muscles continued to fight,
Melting with the strain.  
Adrenaline pumped through my veins
As the true attack began.  

The pain started at the tips of my fingers and toes.  
Slowly crawling, burning,
It continued to eat away at my flesh.  

Much to my dismay
I remained intact
But paralyzed by the pain
Unable to run away,
To escape it.

I was unaware of the storm of tears
Falling from my cheeks.  
Oblivious that he continued to circle closer,
Waiting for his moment to strike.  

The pain began to worsen,
Shifting from fire to lava,
Lava to lightning.  
It was unimaginable, indescribable.

Then I lost control.
This body– it was no longer mine.
It began to betray me.  
It shuddered, then shook spasmodically.  

Its back arched knowing what was to come next,
Preparing as the bubble of air was pushed slowly
Up its tongue, against its lips.
Its blood curdling,
Gut wrenching shriek
Lasted mere hundredths of a second.

He comes into view for a brief moment.
My eyes roll back into my head,
And I lose myself in the blackness.  

Sitting on a bus making a list
Of all the pretty words I know,
Highlights the hollow feeling
Like bells ringing without purpose
Ceremony for the sake of itself
Not like you

Not like funerals and graduations
Formality to induce respect,
Creating the environment for great emotion
The ability to change heartbeats
Bringing pride where there was
Unsteady satisfaction
The power of words together
Of language

You are my language
Not all that I speak or know
A culmination of my creativity
The end product of pretty vowels
Strung together to make
Abstract constructs
The idea that I can be somebody
Because someone has the faith that I can

You create the environment
For powerful emotion
For the torrent of pride and satisfaction
For the validation of my fears
For the seed of hope within my dreams

You are the comfort
When the day consists of
Dusk and dawn
Without the beauty of the sunrise
You are the reasoning
Behind jumping head first
Into waves of fire
Because you knew I could,
So I know I can

In the sad words of an elegist
I mourn the worlds of color and music
That cannot, do not, and will not exist.

Such worlds that would be but, beyond words.
Where emotion blends into the lights around us,
The shadows only shield us from harm.
Where the night is mysterious,
Glorious in it's beauty.

Haunting and peaceful
Is any and all beauty that flies,
Light, and bursting with stars.

This world of paradox
Would require no explanation
Nor boredom of repeating nonsense.

Everyday, day and night,
Is an overwhelming sense experience.
Your mind leaves you
To your eyes and ears,
Your nose, mouth, and hands.

Feel the color of emotion's vision.
Taste the wonder that is movement's song.
Finally, hear beyond the beholder,
And experience the the heights of sensation.‏

Sometimes I send really long messages
Sometimes I ramble on until I've reached a character cap
Sometimes I hope you'll forgive my enthusiasm

It's as if something fell from the sky.
Crash landed in front of me.
The label reads, "Mars".
No, "Acme".

What the hell is it?
Round but, bent and broken.
Was it round before?
I think that's metal, I can't tell.

I suppose I'll just have to
Call the authorities.
Can't very well
Just leave it there,
In the middle of the street.

It's lifted away,
Presumably to a properly sized
Bin. Garbage bin that is.
How big would the bin have to be?
How big was it?
Like a dump truck.
No, smaller.
Like a toy car.
It's a wonder it didn't do any damage.

The flower opens softly.
Welcomes the sun into its depths.
The seeds slowly take flight,
Wandering between shafts of sunlight.

A baker walks home after work.
He, or she. They nod to a passerby.
Must be friends.
How nice.

A ribbon falls gently from the hair
Of a little girl.
Tied there loosely, as it was.
The wind had no trouble starting the dance,
That would lead it fluttering down the busy street.

I smell you, see you,
Hear the call of the ocean.
The roll and rumble.
The fall, and tumble.
Maybe I've just had too
Much salt water today.

The muscles contract.
Air flows through the tube, to bring about
The vibrations of song, and moonlit afternoons.
Laughter floats unimpeded into the wind.

I must be insane to think
That my feet actually touch the ground.
I'm sure they just fall through it.
I really shouldn't walk in graveyards anymore.

A pillow won't suffice
To close the space between my arms,  
The void in my chest.  
The length of my outstretched arms
Won't span the gap between you and I.  
Won't reach the distance.
Fill the space.  
The distance, so far from you and I
At any moment, any given moment.
When I am holding pillows and not hearts.  

My arms can't reach the distance,
Pillows can't fill the void in my chest,
Warm the winter's frost,
But you do.  
Always you, you in my heart,
In my eyes and in my veins.  

My arms can't span the gap
But, I've never felt so close.  
So near to touch, to be. So far.
My arms can't reach through the space
But to be in yours, to be in mine.  
To be with me, around you. For us.
Jun 10

I don't want to be depressed anymore.
The shoulds and woulds
All wrapped up in why did he
And how could she.
Eating slowly at the bonds I've formed
With people.
Human beings that are doing their best
But never good enough for me,
For perfection.
I'd rather be dead.

I don't want to be upset anymore
With the strangers on the bus
In their garb of business and ***
That they speak with boisterous joy
They should be considerate of me
And speak louder to drown out my thoughts.
Maybe I could drown them out on my own.

I want to be content
Because I want to do the dishes and use them
I want to ***** the floors and wash them again,
I want to see the beauty in a teapot and the joy in a
soft pillow
To see what it is to comfort a weathered soul.
I want to uphold routine.

I want to be happy
Because I love to feel alive
And I love to feel in love.
I love to love you and I want to do that for me
And maybe you'll do it for you too.
I want to sit with you in silence
And discuss soda in the coffee shop,
I want to look at you and cry
In gratitude
The only thing I can feel for you
And I know I will.

I want to live a life,
Because I want to be alive.

I'm always beating myself up,
My own worst enemy, or so it goes
I tell myself I find it hard to think myself as
****
So I started saying it all the time.
I named myself **** and so can't be anything but.
I had been so absorbed in calling myself
Lost, unmotivated, grouchy, and awful,
That I had forgotten how powerful my words are.

I often feel lost, unaccomplished, unfulfilled.
Someone said to me the other day
"You're intelligent, witty, and beautiful"
What more could one want in a relationship?
I've accomplished that much.
Another has said before,
"You're an extremely insightful person,
those same skills will lead you to be
Successful in all areas of your life."
She said this and it was printed and
laminated onto a wall for all to see.
Yet somehow I managed to brush it off.

Somehow I manage to forget my accomplishments.
Somehow I've become human, for shame.
So I'll remind myself, I'll remember what I've been told.
I am an intelligent, witty, beautiful and lovable person.
I am successful, I am thoughtful and put my energy where it matters most.
Most importantly, I am growing.

I made that commitment long ago.
I decided that stepping into junior high,
I would grow to become friendly,
And I did.
I decided that stepping into high school,
I would grow to become a learner,
And I did.
I decided that stepping out of university I would become self-reflective,
And I have.
I decided that stepping into my job I would become future oriented,
And I will.

I made this commitment,
I signed this contract because
I matter.
Because I love myself.
Because I deserve to be my own best friend
And to be happy
And to be loving.

Because I am intelligent
And witty
And beautiful.
Because I am successful
And I will learn every time I falter.
Because I am a loved and loving person.
Because I have achieved
The respect of those I love.
Most of all,
I am commited to myself,
And I am growing.

I see through waves of
Shattered glass these days.
Through tunnels I hear you like
Sonic booms and the bang on the
Bathroom door the morning after.

With a gentle knock it splinters in my eyes
And I can't see you anymore.
Left with the shadows in the corners of my mind,
Guessing the silhouettes and finding words unsaid.

Fighting hard to find you,
Hands tracing walls in dark corridors,
Try to find the light switch,
But I always end up just pushing your buttons.

Mountains sway and tumble.
A quaking bumps against innocence. 
The moon passes over the sun,
Birth of a night, granting vision of the shadows.
Monsters come out to play.
They crash stone and boulder,
And the dead cry in worldless sound.

When I am given an assignment
I scoff inwardly.
The professor says
The project is due Thursday.
I know very well that she won't
Actually look at it till a month later.
A month later she'd accept it just the same,
So why put myself through this hell now?

Hell? You question me,
"**** it up and just do it, baby"
It's just some project.
Like all the others, relatively no effort,
It will take all of an hour to complete.
Then, it'd be over and done with.

Wrong.
It's Hell.
I stare into space, dreading the thought
Of lifting my pen to mark a sheet of paper just
Because I have to.
I could sit here for hours and write,
With the same pen, the story of my life,
The poetry that describes my innermost thoughts.

The same pen lifted for the assignment
Of someone else's creation,
Weighs down like the rock
Left behind after the cave's collapse.

The only times I've ever seriously considered,
Giving up.
The only times I've ever considered
Sleeping... Deeply,
Is when I am forced to lift,
One by one,
Each piece of rock, back into that cave's ceiling.

Sometimes when I've half finished,
I think that maybe,
If I shook the walls,
I could let it all cave in on me.
I'd never have to find my way back.

I walk into class,
Lay the sheet to rest
On the desk of it's judge.
Hardly notices my presence,
The granite dust on my eyelashes.

What do I get for my efforts?
Red pen, an "A".
My friends whine and moan,
"You didn't even have to try!"
Because I'm too smart to pay attention in class.
Too smart to actually study.
That I don't have to try.

They don't have to rebuild caves.

She walks in
Passing through the kitchen
She grabs a glass and the bottle of wine
She sits down at the table
The white walls reflect the light bouncing in from outside
It shows off the people walking in pairs
This was getting old
She lifts the glass toward her mouth
Pausing, she reels it back and throws it at the opposite wall
The merlot runs down the wall
And the glass sparkles through the air
She stands up and pulls herself into the shower
She stands under the water for awhile
Then without drying herself
Falls into bed

He seems distracted, his lips tight.
Is everything okay, I ask.
He smiles and says it's just fine,
Then hurries off to the other room to grab his things.
Sitting on the bed, I got to thinking,
And the more I thought about it,
The more I realized that everything was going perfectly.
It was all going as it should,
It certainly couldn't be any better.
I smiled softly, a powerful peace filling my core.
He looked at me questioningly when he returned,
Quickly distracted by the task at hand.
He pulled the needle from my arm,
Replacing it with another IV.
Are you ready for your next round of chemotherapy Tiffany?
My heart flutters for a moment.
Yes, I am ready.

Heaven whispers peace in my
Ears, it rings so
Loudly, so all encompassing, too
Long has it been since its toll.

Ice freezes balefully on the borders,
Smooth lines drawn on the edge.

Careful grace,
Omits and voids any fears, any
Malicious shadows of a doubt.
I walk among these clouds,
Not seeing that it is all
Going so well.

Don't make me go home,
Home to a house,
A house in the middle of everywhere.
A middle of everywhere that is itself,
Nowhere.

Dont bring me home.
Dont bring me to the middle of everywhere,
In the center of every place I'd like to be,
Absent from every place I'd like to be.

Don't ******* to a house,
At the intersection of everyplace.
When all I want to be
Is with you.

One day,
We'll buy a nice house in the south of France
And dance on the graves of those who doubt imagination.
But not today for we endure urban slums
And cold concrete villages.

Someday,
I'll be rich and you'll be sated.
Together we'll grow old and discuss memories
Of when we first dated.
But just how weighted is the thought?
For today, everyone's the one and I can't see some days,
That one day we'll be together.

Today,
I can't breathe when the bonds of rules and fools
Push down upon the clouds of my dreams,
And I freeze.
No logs for the fire,
My motivation makes a proper icy prison.

One day, some other day.
In a life that doesn't exist today.
I'll be at peace.
Not today, for I brave no days,
And dream of that one day,
When I walk towards another day.
Another time and place. Where I,
Lay in peace.