I fear that one day, I will run out of words.
I fear that there will come a time
when every word I speak, write or think falls flat and bland.
That the meaning will be stripped,
and all intentions will be rendered dull after years of use.
My writings and work will be repetitive, a pointless task… a fading chant.
The cycle continues, with no way of slowing.
I drag my feet, digging them into the earth,
but still it moves. My heels are so ******, and my blisters are festering.
My fear is already growing so large,
that even before half of my life has gone,
my words have already begun to run out.
How am I fading so quickly?
How long until I vanish completely?
Will any part of me remain?
With everything I have barely done.
I’m beg, beg, begging you. Please.
I need my words to linger, just a little longer.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
From the sweet laughter dribbling down your lips,
To your gentle eyes fluttering at dawn
From the way you gracefully pounce across the sea rocks
Gathering and sorting rounded glass—milky in color
The way the afternoon sun turns your hair to gold
Your eyes to deep, evergreen forests
Your limbs, like Icarus’ wings
Glowing, fragile,—temporary
My love knots tightly for thee, unslipping
However,
With every yearning glance, I worry you will wash away
Like the piles of creamy glass you once collected
Returning home to the ocean and her waves
Leaving me unmoving upon the shore
—gazing

I got into a car accident today
My fear is rooted in the familiarity that I found
As we collided and in the wavering second after--
As my body stilled
In the sound of the metal crunching from a forward force
And the thump-like drop
That shot from my throat straight to the bottom of my stomach
The sudden compression of metal has startling similarities;
To those same compressions that reside in a realm of loose thoughts
The tension of my fibers contracting into each other
Reaps an illusion of protection
My left leg experienced a shocking pulse of pressure--
One which did not linger
My eyes took position;
Readying themselves to flow
Before the impact my mouth released--
Three
Small
Pitched
Words…

Rolling above the trees,
Rustling in the leaves
Fear grows near,
The branches dreadful cheer
Harsh rumbling,
Sends thoughts tumbling
Through my mind
Heart to ribs, bind
Jaw clenched,
Body wrenched
Chilled to my core,
I wish for nothing more
But for the winds to calm
So that I may drift on

peel back my skin
carve unto my bone
slicing away layers of flesh
unwinding coils of neurons
remove, reset
remove, reset
rearrange what is left
of me
replace what was lost
by me
and once fully done
glue my pieces back together
place in the bone and seal it
so that my thoughts remain inside
fold back my skin
bandage me up
so that I am new

“Is anyone listening?” Cried my conscience
Teary-eyed and locked away at the back of my mind
Staring in horror,
At the disgraceful scene laid out before her
“No feelings, no right… no consent.” She screams
Clawing at the darkness,
Unable to speak through to me
“Is anyone listening?” It was my turn to cry
Teary-eyed, locking myself away in my mind

Every cascading curve,
Envisioned and brought forth
Colt brushes accompanied by oils served
Gentle glide to slight drag North
Smooth, fair *******
Of yellows, white and reds
Complied thoughtful hues
Silk of emerald, bride of white
Paintress’ gaze, lovers by night

Be,
As a love
Whom together,
Discovers
The art of sin

Ask,
Not of the wrongs
Nor rights
But,
If the sweet cherry
Seeps or flows

Approach,
A figure, yet
Merely a reflection
In fruits,
Not leaves

Gaze,
Vanilla cream
Opposing,
One robust
In darkness
And desire

Fuse,
The sensation
Of honey dancing
Upon buds,
Of taste

Addiction,
The willingness
To enable,
The expedition
And art of sin

I sigh
Another day painstakingly crawls by
Crawls,
As does the ivy circling my neck
Restricting my breath,
But I couldn’t care less
Chartreuse vines, enveloped by raw, grim leaves
My words are no longer mine,
But the thieves
Knowing of my impending doom
The poet’s worst fear comes true,
No voice, no words, no pen nor quill
Nothing to live for,
Stripped has been my will

I scream
Raging embers arise amongst the leaves
My trembling jaw, shaking tongue and quivering lips
Eager claws and curled fingertips,
At the ivy they rip
The fiery yet gentle glow of flame
Disintegrating the captive plant as soon as it came
The embers of the past settle upon frigid ash
And no longer should I thrash

I sigh
Relief floods my being, knowing the vines have died
A catalyst to the ethereal lilacs that are now by my side
Flourishing purple buds rest pleasantly upon my face
Lavender tinged petals carry honey laced words,
Close enough to taste
The dance of petals surrounding brings wind,
Of my newfound happiness and strength I found within
Once ivy thrived all around me
Now, petals of a fresh start reside in my heart