It's about to be 3am
And you swear you can hear
Your neighbor thrashing
Inside herself
Through the loud bass
Of her sad music.
You've just seen her earlier
Disappearing into her laptop screen
Before you knocked on her door
And she comes out
Greeting you
Before she can even realize
That she's back inside herself
And not lost somewhere
Between the lines of words
That have lives of their own,
Feeding off of her
Until she's no more.
You tell her about the bill
And she fumbles to open the screen
To hear you clearly
Because she forgets she's still here
And she has a neighbor
She shares a water meter with.
She takes the paper off your hands
Reads it and gets some money
And hands you the payment.
You're not sure if she said thank you
Cause she spoke but you didn't hear any words
So you retreat back to your unit
And forget all about her
Until you wake up in the middle of the night
And hear all the words
Her thoughts are screaming out
And you think of all the times you thought
You've seen your neighbor.

The writer woke up
One day no longer pouring
Her thoughts over tea
Without a warning
The writer slept
Throughout every 2AM
Not tossing or turning
And hearing the walls speak
One day no longer to be found
The writer disappeared
In the pages of her history
Along with scars healed
After the storm
With the calm
Amidst the quiet
One day no longer needing
The writer in her story

I am but the seed
of a fruit all finished up,
with all my wisdom eaten away
left with nothing but the husk
of what I used to be
so bury me in the dirt
with the hope that I will grow
once again into a tree
ripe with glory and promise.

Silken skies
Candlelit sunset
Clouds of fresh linen
My lips all over you
Like rose petals
Scattered around my room.

Moonlit smiles
Red wine kisses
Slow dancing
To the rhythm under the sheets
Your body wrapped
Like lace on my skin.

Hot summer breath
Sweat like coconut and lime
Your voice soft against my ear
Time flowed like sand
You and I forever lost
In waves of lulling bliss

Colors flashed
Bubbles burst
Feet landed on the ground
But in your gaze my heart still floats
Though all this is only in my mind
This love is solid as your hand.

Do I dive to the ocean floor
or seek the edge of the world?
And will this heart of gold
sink or float?
I tell myself
with my blood as my ink,
I have my soul to keep;
now I’m at the tip of the quill
but the slate’s wiped clean.
When there’s nothing left
but the other side,
is there nothing else to do
but go there?

Tomorrow held such promises
then the next day came
and broke all of them.

Looking at a computer screen
but seeing blue skies;
brain frying in radiation,
body floating in the open ocean.
Heels on concrete,
grass between toes.
Pounding on computer keys,
pricking on cactus spines.
Thinking of brand conversion
but dreaming of the Grand Canyon.
Impersonating relevance,
giving my rhymes a rest.
A fool for freedom
but a tool for currency.