******
A word I have heard a thousand times
A thousand different ways
But has always sounded the same,
Like ignorance

A word that has never left me feeling worthless
Or unloved
Just misunderstood

Even when followed by being thrown into the bathroom stall of a Girl's gym  locker room
Or by the few friends I had left helping me clean up my battered face and the hide the bruises

I have always been proud of the term ****** because even though it was said to be offensive
I was being acknowledged as me

But when the word was spilled by the woman who once rocked me to sleep till I was no longer scared
The woman who has always protected me
It was then that all the pain I ever should have felt
Took a hold of my heart and ran it up to my throat until the pain leaked from my eyes
I was angry
I was sad
And I was scared
Because I knew that word was always followed by violence
And I didn't think that I would be able to walk with my head held high from this one
My face turned red and my blood turned cold and I watched my father defend me
Finally I stopped him and I looked at her
And I said yes, but I'm your ******

I think I
got bad
at poetry.

love, i dream of you
often. my
mind is lost in a
haze aphrodite
cast upon me;
my skull is a
honey-***,
waiting to be
scooped
up by some loving
hand.

Death encumbers me as I peer out from behind my eyes.
I’m not there.
Time drips in an hour glass.
And we care only for what is not in our control.
Our death being the only exception.
It is not thought of at all.
We drink to forget the time that takes us to it.

i am not ashamed of the parts
you saw of me
you should be ashamed
of what you did with them

no matter the day
no matter the time
i will always shake.

in fear i will tremble as a willow tree
in strength i will roar as an earthquake

as an addict i will shake in withdraw
as a friend i will shake with laughter

in silence i will shake
in din i will shake
i will shake in darkness
i will shake in the light

i will shake near and far

in shaking i will move

i will never settle

dear you,

please remember that your voice has power.
power to raise an ocean of words,
please make them mean something.
power to create a storm,
please don’t destroy too much.
you have been given hands to create,
a mind to wonder,
a life that is worth living if you make it worth living

There’s a house Anne built
with a crumbling frame,
she’d eat the paint chips
off the wood and dream
of a sun set she’d parallel
as an identical being.
A life cycle of  dissolving
lithium batteries in *****,
chasing doctor death
by staying still. Carbon
monoxide filled the cavities
in her brain and her corpse,
a beautiful foundation
destroyed in broad daylight,
do loved ones say goodbye
over the remains.

And in blood visions I see
the home I’ll put together
and tear apart. Is what’s
inevitable a tragedy?
If I stay in the garage
and let the car run,
the wood in the floorboards
would still be fresh. Anne,
my future is in all the
architecture I’ve admired.
If they’re all delusions,
then reality’s a great
impressionist and I’ve
been picking off all
of the yellow paint.

I will set with the sun,
I will set with the sun

when day time comes
to an end. and over
what’s left standing,

say goodnight rather
than goodbye.