lonely moths -
black and white
and in-betweens

navigating
by the same light

  spiraling -
adapting
- changing

traits
moth-ers know

no need to race
- we are one.

r ~ 10/28/14

http://anthro.palomar.edu/vary/vary_2.htm

a learning experience
- the detailed
timing and precision

- a certain etiquette
in the rise and fall
of hands and feet

i learned the walk
- mirrored on the toe
of a spit-shined boot

shooting imaginary doves
in white gloves -

the proper fold
of the cloth
- tight and taught
with stars above

the tri-fold - not
a trifling thing we're told

the color of a mother's tears
and grip of a father's grief -
the why in the cry of a child

- sad song of the bugler
on a windswept hill
standing in the detail.

r ~ 10/29/14

Depression is like holding a scalding hot cup of coffee,
Some days it burns you constantly,
Sometimes it's a dull ache
Sometimes it gets cold,
Until something comes and fills your cup again

fire burns slowly
it feeds on the dead
red hot flames
coaxing strength into ash
it used to burn through me
charring pale white skin
with its all-consuming hunger
forcing blood to pump through my veins
forcing blood to drip down my legs
it is my own fire
that scarred me so beautifully
it clenched my teeth
and wrenched my eyes wide open
red-flickering across the the smooth surface
of blue green eyes
until the needle pierced me
and fed the ocean to my veins
freezing deep blue flood
extinguishing the searing hot
that once forced me to live
the water drips into my lungs
killing all the smoke I stored there
then it rushes in too quickly
all that's left is ice
crystallized behind a glaze
of blue green ever shifting eyes
where passion once burned bright
brutally murdered by
the crash of smothering waves
infinitely taller than my will power
disguised as good intentions