with a soft touch and a blushing smile,
vibrant green creeps into the landscape.
the longsuffering trees,
whose limbs have long been heavy with snow,
finally stretch their arms into the warm air
as suggestive buds speckle their gnarled fingers.
the clouds swell with life, and the sun
glows stronger than ever before.
as their spidery roots drink voraciously
from the moist dirt, smirking daisies and
blooming tulips unfurl their alluring petals
and bask in the glorious yellow light.
the firm, unyielding ground is teeming
and bustling with a myriad of fauna,
unsteadily rubbing the remnants of slumber
from their bleary, squinting eyes.
the flat, chilly silence of winter
has been quelled by the lilting robin’s song.
and as the very earth herself wakens
from this melancholy hibernation,
i let go, and float down that euphoric wave called life.

she's the humidity on my summer day,
the mosquito bite on the back of my leg;
that nagging cough that just won't quit,
weeks after the cold itself is gone.
she's the pimple on my chin and the
horizontal scratch on my glasses.
she buzzes in the background of my mind,
some days far louder than others.
i try to rationalize and reason with her,
but even the strongest will and the most
determined of intention is no match for
a steel-reinforced concrete wall.
sometimes she chokes my throat and
speaks for me, making me a fool.
other times, she just whispers in my
ear and poisons my whirling thoughts.
some day, i will muster the courage to
drown her out, once and for all.
but until then, if there's a hitch in my smile,
or a sigh amidst the peals of laughter,
or even just a downward gaze,
know that it is not me, it is her.
i hate her because i love her.
she is me, and i am her.

life, the world,
the human experience--
they can be dark,
cruel, and bewildering,
creating a
choking cloud of
chagrin around me.

but there are moments,
little glimpses of beauty,
of untainted perfection
in the vast array of living,
breathing creatures and
objects i surround myself with;
i string these moments
together in my mind, shimmering
drops of dew in the
intricate web of a sad,
reminiscent spider.

shivering with cold on the
side of a dark, dry mountain;
the air was frigid, so we
huddled together, leaning
on the side of the car,
necks craned upward at the
stunning display of stars
blanketing the sky above us.

my glasses made it nearly
impossible to see, stuck in the
rain walking home from class.
we took off our shoes and socks
and we ran through the grass,
sharp and slippery and
refreshing; we splashed
our way through the biggest,
most tantalizing puddles we
could find, and then collapsed
in your apartment, shivering,
out of breath, shoulders aching,
but laughing.

it was a dark, stormy sort of
night, and the summer air was
uncharacteristically cool; the
rain pelted my front lawn, the
street, and the rain was pulling
leaves off trees.
my eyes slid shut, tired, and i was
still smoking a cigarette, and i felt
the thunder resonate within
my body, and deep purple flashes
behind my eyelids,
and i was restored.

a vast pen of sheep was on one
sideof the dirt road, and an
empty meadow on the other.
we stood, again, on the
car as the bright orange orb
in front of us slowly crept down,
down, down, casting his royal
shadow over the twilight sky in
fluorescent shades of pink and
purple and blue and red and orange.
the air was thick and sticky,
mid-july in pennsylvania,
but i could only think of the
masterpieve before me.

once we sat in one of those veins
on the side of a mountain,
the ones important men use to run
power lines; we stared into the expanse
of valley in front of us, clear, refreshing
air after a quick, soft shower of dainty
raindrops and a cool breeze carrying
our smoke and noise through
the rock, the trees, the roads, the
few houses and manmade structures.

the first day we knew each other,
walking for ages down the old train
tracks, talking about anything that
seemed relevant, engulfed in an
autumn rainbow.

spending summer nights with the
people who entertain me, the people
who i love; nights spent with hand
crafted, often unconventional snacks
and some form of alcohol to share.
cooler evenings with those same people,
but with a crackling fire between all of
us, knit caps, and flannel shirts.

deep bonds, the ones i have had in
the many different shells of my life,
and the ones that still now hold strong;
the times when a gesture or a
spoken word brings a lump into my
throat, burning with curious emotion.
the bonds that sometimes fray or
collect dust, but still resurface with
suprising tenacity when tested.

when the present becomes
too dark, too ugly, i pick up one
of these images, these slices of memories
when, for just a few minutes, all worry and
negative things are completely
and utterly forgotten, and everything--
my life, my world, my existence--was
pure and infinite; i take a slice of happiness,
i hold it in my two hands,
and i remind myself that in order to
get to one of these moments, i have to
wander through the muck for just a
little longer, just a little farther.

the feeling is
new
and exciting, a
fleeting tremble.


your smile, a
catalyst;
your wall, a
challenge.


frivolous emotion --
a furtive
glance,
a shared
grin.


the beginning.


the end.

the night air is still,
so warm for the
end of winter;
the stars shine
with fiery hearts
far, far above me.

i feel waves of quiet
serenity run through
my body and mind,
and i shut my eyes.
the world is hazy.

i am here, inside.
the heaviness
of life shuts up
because i force it
to leave me alone.

but through my beautiful
silence crackles a noise--
a sound that cannot be,
a sound that should not.

my eyelids tear open
and at first, nothing;
but then, an anomaly.
dark, then darker dark.
impossible, i think.

i blink, but there it stays,
existing to spite me.
my mind must be
tired, worn; i look away.

my vision is unfocused
and out of control.
houses and trees
bleed together,
and spots dance in
my eyeballs.

when i look back,
i stare at this
impossibility,
and it stares
right back.

my heart pounds on
my ribcage like a
terrified toddler
screaming for
mommy.

and then,
the pressure lifts.
it is gone.

i didn't notice until last year.
the tumor, that is.
only a small and insignificant seedling,
it began to take root
deep within my cobwebs.
but the longer you fertilized
with your anger and hatred,
the stronger it became,
consuming my very soul.
and as time passed,
i felt it pulsating angrily
within my feeble brain,
maliciously eroding at my walls.

first,
it was only impatience.
i balked at your words and
your contempt made me cringe.
then,
it grew into anger.
so powerful it could erase
my love and replace it
with overwhelming loathe.
finally,
the bitterness budded.
i hated you venomously.
those seven letters raised my hackles,
your voice caused an adrenaline surge,
and your screams nauseated me.
before i knew what happened,
your tumor was my tumor;
your sickness was my own;
your self-hatred as strong as mine.
the line was blurred,
the ship sank as you watched
with a mocking smile.

someday,
i will face the tumor.
someday,
i will cut it out,
shut it down,
make you stop.
someday,
but not today.

i am driving down the familiar road home.
i melt into the abnormally plush seat, and
as pleasant lingering echoes of dolores
mingle well with robert's fiery heartbreak,
i feel my body sigh with welcome relief.

i make the same right turn i have made
five thousand times before this night,
and my eyes are accosted by ******
ribs and a flimsy excuse for a carcass.
it is not gruesome or horrifying at all,
the spectacle simply exists in my mind.

but then, after that split second of
involuntary reaction, my eyes and
my mind and my vehicle are close
enough to comprehend what i see:

the ****** carcass is little more
than a plant,
red stems for ribs and brown leaves
for flesh.