His eyes have stayed with me
How alive can one be?
I remind myself of winter

Sure, of bright, of white
A sugared mess of joy
But I am dead

I met autumn in him
Springing to life
He carried wind on his back

Though I tried I can not steal
His heart
Or his look of lovely cheer

Abled
Messingly sweet
Remembering your taste
In a cup of coffee

Sweating wet
Down my chin and over limb
I haven't heard
Spoken words

Designed over leave
Overseas, and for nearly free
Small size
I overcompensate my life

Messing memories
Swapping livelihoods
Words making their
Own way out

I have won something
Chance random
I come out on top
How hatred bursts and runs over

A cup, how small
Fills and wills paper towel
And cloth bandage
Reccuringly fixable

I can see the blue-green veins on my hands
Stimulant-rich filling a gradient mess
I've made my heart explode
How alive I show my attentions
Form of sly glances and pretty writing
Aren't I easy on the eyes?
If I were me, I could help you to decide
But I am just frame and lions mane
My music, too loud, ushers 3 truths
Deaf, blind, and dumb
Numb- I've finally won
War against self- ******* permanent wealth
Meaning in nothing
The emptiness as words
Stomach growling as reminder of worth
Mother Earth- seek, see? I'm no longer weak!
I eat!
So leave! I'll waste between each creep
Looking my way, bleed
Onto me
Manically, I plead
Stop- no, start watching me!

Lowly longings for desire
Changed and stimulated light
Slowing down, I re-train my brain with wires
Balanced or not I walk
Upon 5 miles of open study
Or 3 hours exercise
My muscles collapse and shaking
hands and feet and sight

silly siren
perfectionist nymph
lay languid
adjusting to the realm
of awkward itching
manic laughter
frenzied fictions
where the dead lay awake
a miniscule matter
both sailing in ***** grey
and laying in wait
on one end
a microcosm
opens to infinity
and any further action
is unnecessary
and tepid

I finally understand the hiding
Of hair and the covering of skin
These women embrace as custom
They are holy descendants of eve
What is left of perfection
Handed down for too many generations
They are cursed, so wanted, why not hide
Beautiful skin and silky hair
Full eyebrows, eyes wide in fear
Determined not to covet physical form