“Put pressure on it, it needs more pressure”
Holding your wounds shut
That senseless force is what took you away
Pressure- to be... whilst not desiring to be
You saw the clouds moving in greyscale
I saw the hills below scattered in shades of green,
Cavernous, shadowed, cryptic, familiar-

We were advised to go as the crow flies
I cried to a nameless God that your crow’s feet
Were from insurmountable happiness, not the pressures endured
I’ve forgotten much since the storm some-178 weeks ago
Though my body remembers yours over and over again
My skin has yours imprinted, correlated
Forged into one point on the axis between here and there
You the X, I the Y

The Earth crept between the crevices, curling
Through the distance between the Right radius and ulna
Elbows breaking knuckles, blood remains to be spilt
Blood doesn’t connect, if anything it merely separates

Scarecrows don’t help much when the crops won’t grow this year
Ants crawled out of the barrel of a shotgun
Observing the process of cleaning bones after tragedy

Follow the moss to find your way North with no direction-
Sometimes on the other side it’s not greener,
It’s more terrifying than ever before
Terrain untouched, unspoiled, sacred-

Climb up the trees with me, find your quiet
We won’t carve our names but we’ll find our niche
You’ll have quills and I’ll have armor
Not even the thought of stolen arrows,
Lost time through distance,
Or perhaps a slew of chemical imbalances
Can reach us up here
I chose to glue your pieces back together with mud and straw
Taken from the fallen, the loved and now distant memories

You may be an abandoned military base offshore
What was once used by many-
Witnesses life again, life of a different kind
The vegetation will ease its way into the cracks
Constructed when the foundation began to decay
It has a beauty of its own, one of self-sustainment
An everlasting beauty that connects itself
To the surrounding extravagance, often times ignored,
Death isn’t the only way to be forged into nature, remembered

Fear doesn’t always win, nor death do us part so soon
I hope your skin and bones remember before the end

I awoke in the night and felt your back against mine
Was this some sort of sign, some distance I couldn't explain?
Or was this a self-perceived storm in the making
constructed from nothing that was real?
The darkness took comfort in those nights we spent
back to back
Ticking, ticking, ticking-
Searching for an outlet, even forging one out of our lack
of subconscious physical attachment, trying to
create a wedge

The wedge served as an object that would separate
my vulnerability from reality
Creaking across my temples and finding solitude in
the destruction of everything I held dear,
you.

As time went on, naturally that wedge became an abyss
and every night I fell hundreds of feet over and-
over again- until my heart shrank into a thread.
The feeling of uncontrollable anxious behaviors
began to manifest in my chest
There it remained-
digging around to find its home, once more
In my adolescent insecure tendencies

"Can I take you home?" Home-
"The place where one lives
Permanently, especially as a member
Of a family or household"

It was August of 1993,
Summers were always humid down there
We would sit by the lake and watch the boats
With their bright lights and distant laughter
We would swing under the branches of the weeping willow
Catching fireflies in jars, just to let them go moments later

He would only come 'round when it was warm again
He would take the boat out with us, teach us how to fish
We ran to the end of the driveway-
Where he would pick us up to go get ice cream
I would stare at his hands, shifting gears, ***** and shaking

She would get angry with him and smash the dinner plates
We would sit outside and hum our favorite songs
Falling asleep under the willow, just beside the motionless water-
Shaken awake by the sound of yelling turning to screams-
Then, the sound of a hammer snapping against thick steel- again-
Muffled cracks stuck in our eardrums, repeating

Under the willow lay a fresh mound of soil
Next to it, a small cross we had woven out of sticks and twine
He left as suddenly as summer days, never found
The fireflies didn't come 'round anymore, people in boats didn't laugh anymore
Soon after, it was abandoned- that home -and never spoken of again

Walking up the stairs, it was quiet
Feeling that old **** carpet, like pillows beneath my toes
The house smelled the same, of dust and wood, sometimes
a hint of clean laundry and vanilla candles
Approaching the room - hit like a stroke - or a baseball
to the left eye in 1998

A museum of furniture, clothing, trophies, memories-
Notes whose meanings no longer could be immediately recalled,
And some we wouldn't want to remember
A slip of paper, under my mattress, it read "Please
just let me say I'm sorry one more time, I can't lose you"
Signed, The First Girl I Thought I Loved
She now has three children and goes on vacations to Lake Tahoe
To see the sunset, to breathe again and again

I searched everywhere for the box, the one where we
keep sentimental **** because it feels wrong to throw it away
Then I remembered the day she threw it in the street, saying
"You think they care about you? You think any of these people know what you really are? Nobody will ever love you like your mother loves you"
The screen door cracked that day and my memories
Oh, they flew away like paper airplanes, flying so high

I sighed to release myself, to be free of it
Grabbed the bright red canister and began
Drowning the time capsule, the mausoleum, familiarity dissipating
I lit the match, paused for a brief moment of silence
Then watched as it was devoured, chemically altered

You both preserved this room, just the way it was
Locked me in that room, throwing away the key
Safeguarding these memories, only the ones easier to swallow
Maybe if it never changed, then I would not have
Maybe if it all stayed in place, it would be ready for my return
Let this serve as a reminder
That room killed me, and now it dies with you.

December 18th, 2018
I've been running down this
Snow-covered road
For fourteen miles
With arrowheads
Pierced through
The bridges of my feet

Extremities turning blue, then black
You can't turn back now, face it-
"Twelve inches overnight", they said
We reap what we sow, echoing...

A whisper ran beside me
Running off the road - into the woods
I followed-
Until we reached the lake

Frozen almost to the center
I laid down, began making snow angels
Looking up at old light and dancing trees
I hope the ice cracks reach me-
Before they do

We joined the group at the bottom of the cracked stone steps, some of them were barefoot
Roots and twigs bending and contorting
A collection of those repressed failed attempts, of blood and memory, joy and visceral pains left behind

She was new, moving with grace and apprehension
Her voice swam into my ear so effortlessly
As if the drum and cord had been sealed by string
Were you meant to? Were we meant, too
Did you find your way through barracks and empty closets?
Or through delicate spoons and an architect’s vision of the future?
What difference does it really make, in the end

She moved closer, saying that my intuition was the only thing saving us all from another life cycle, the replicated experience, of a collapsed star
That the scars all pointed in the same direction, to the garden where we stood, still

At an impasse between flipping through an old photo album, ripping at the seams
And the light shining on the white flowers and moss on the forest floor
They’re waiting for you on the North shore, they’ve been waiting a very long time

The Doldrums shifted, the tides adjusted from a decades long fixed position, the sails followed
Their many voices whispered over my shoulder
“it’s the only direction we haven’t tried yet”

CW/TW** Mental abuse, physical abuse, domestic violence


I.
You were sitting at the bar, neon lights danced down your face
With your friends you laughed about some stupid movie you all loved
I saw when you looked down at your hands, your smile disappeared
The loneliness began to creep up behind your eyelids
I approached you, asked if you'd have a beer and smoke with me
You walked me home after, laughing about ridiculous childhood memories
Sharing our frustrations over how much had changed since the simple days
"I didn't know you back then, but I wish that I had"

II.
He was coming over tonight, I was making us dinner
"I know your birthday isn't for another week, but I have a surprise for you"
He opened the box, full of his favorite games, CDs, and books from his childhood
The ones he had relied on through his mom's various relationships, the abuse, the picking up and moving, the lost friendships
Everything he lost, piece by piece, move after move
He tried his best to not cry in front of me
"I figured you weren't listening. Nobody remembers stuff like this."
He told me he loved me, I said it back.

III.
We moved into a Tudor style house with a big garden, just as I dreamed
Settling in the same town where I went to high school
We painted the walls shades of blue, had a candlelit dinner with a table made of boxes, we slept on our mattress on the floor
"All I ever wanted was for you to have a place to call home,
to want to stay, to feel safe"

IV.
The next morning he received a call, his mother was back in the hospital
He had no contact for years, she said she needed him this time
He was quiet most of the day as we shopped for furniture
A familiar face spotted me from down the aisle, a high school boyfriend
"Long time no see, did you move back?"
"Just yesterday", I introduced them
"We should catch up sometime, see you around"
He looked at me, unamused. "You gonna hang out with him? I think you should"
I shook my head "No thanks"
Laughing, he said, " Well, sure feels like you want to"
"I'm not even going to entertain this conversation"
He didn't come home from the bars until 3am, he slept on the couch
I woke him up, his plane was leaving in a couple of hours
I asked again if he wanted me to go with him to see her
"Don't act like you care. Have fun hanging out with him."
He grabbed his suitcase and slammed the door.

V.
He was returning today, we had hardly spoken for two weeks
He came through the door with a dozen white roses
He hugged me and wouldn't let go. "Please forgive me
Please? I am so sorry. I couldn't live if I ever lost you"
I awoke in the middle of the night, our bedroom glowing
I caught a glimpse of him, my phone in his hands, I pretended to sleep
I didn't want to fight.

VI.
The garden had become overrun by weeds
The vases in the house had emptied
The blue walls turned to shades of gray
It was pouring rain, at home, after the funeral
I walked outside, laid in the street
The drops of water reflecting the landscape across my face
It washed over the blotches on my skin, old and new
Blue, black, brown, green, yellow
He saw me and ran outside, carried me off the road
"I'm so sorry, it won't happen again, I promise
If you leave me, I would die
If you leave me, I would die
I don't think you understand
Without you, I won't survive"
It felt
like drowning

"A child may not be
considered a piece of property-
only the child possesses genuine rights
the Right to be respected as a person
from the moment of his conception"
He was born in the year 1964
A world on the brink of splitting open,
On the edge of revolution, progress, protest

The stained glass windows speckled from the rain
Incense and old wood covered in fingernail imprints
Matching those on the sides of his arms
A small choir singing hymns of Salvation and Praise
His mother nudges him "stand up straight, eyes forward"
A mind wandering from the homily on Sacrifice
To the images of bombings in Hamburg

Adorned with black and white collars
Gripping an unlabeled wine bottle
The children sprinted through the wooded trails
Mud spattering across their legs and dress shoes
The others spun in circles, as if trapped in jewelry boxes
Their ankles dressed in pink ribbons
This was no place for innocence and imagination
But one of penance and prayer

He kept his toy cars and trains in a green metal box under his bed
It wasn't much, but they were his
Through them locking him in the closet for hours
And being told to not speak unless spoken to
The times of self expression, of emotion, feeling
Shamed and forced suppression - turned to repression
These cars and trains, they were his

Mental illness is a myth
Suicide is a mortal sin
We decide who you are
You cannot feel
Kneel down
Be quiet
Say your prayers

We gathered to celebrate the newlyweds,
I only came here because I knew
He would be here
July 26th, 2008-

It had been fifteen years... since she was taken from us
The night had come swiftly, salt tainted mist - for your wounds
I was but a child when he took her and disappeared.
You robbed, stole, abused - Now, it is your time.

You didn't recognize me from across the room
My fingertips softly tapped my champagne glass
Glancing at reflections on the sharp edges
Explosions in gold, a world turned upside down
Melting around the corners, disappearing -

Our eyes met and you took my hand, to the terrace
As we stared out into the shadowed earth,
Only comforted by the sound of creatures and smell of dew
You looked up at the sky, a coat of silver jewels
Spread across dark, ad infinitum
You inhaled, exhaled - a plume of smoke
A world shifted, right side up
Again.

You began to speak of Federico Fellini
As if I were a conquest... to impress
Interrupting, you, "Say my name"
You stared blankly at my eyes - shifting from fire to ash
"Say my name, say it"
"Say my name."
Suddenly - your eyes widened, inhaling, the memory
Your mouth opened to speak - I pushed as hard as I could
You fell - and lay - beside the river below
Unchanged, an immovable object, an anchor, callous

Running down stairs, through trees, amidst the collapse
Reaching the point of exhaustion, I sat, I smoked
Surrounded by chairs dancing in the dark, like skeletons
Is this what you wanted?
Is this what You wanted?

"So come with me
where dreams are born
and time is never planned"
often called the loss of innocence
or a coming-of-age tale
a set structure of safety to reality
or stability to instability
with named antagonists, protagonists
an ending wherein the dust settles
A Satisfying Conclusion,
through lessons and growth

How does one rectify a disruption of The Structure?
Stories of the unnamed antagonist
not seen - but experienced
Where one's own skin becomes a prison
or a memory palace, brought to life
by the pain of experience
Not tightly wrapped with a satisfactory bow
Where everything lingers, festers
and lessons will never be enough
Icarus and Daedalus, one in the same
a neverending story of retrospection
a story suspended in act two-
"His childhood was dead or lost
and with it his soul capable of simple joys
and he was drifting amid life
like the barren shell of the moon"