There is freedom in isolation,
in being idle and invisible,
where one could sit in muteness,
swim widely in dusk and ask,
"Am I really here,
if no one is around to see?"
A different kind of suicide

There is pleasure in being a shadow,
in pretending you don't exist,
to avoid acting like you do

Solitude isn't a time for me
to let myself free
but rather a time to free myself
from who I am

Outside the confinement of company,
I am anyone and anything,
I am someone else, somewhere else
I am alive,
but I am no one
I am alone

a.r.

coddled in this blanket fort, for now
to be contained is to feel bigger than space
fragile fabric slowly fraying at the seams-
meant to protect me, for now

the sun makes it hard sometimes—suddenly,
it's a hug that feels too tight, too warm

nauseous of the collective breathe
that fools itself to being one

a.r.

Mutual respect,
Distinguished taste,
Distinct and directed.

Mysterious fate,
Promises made,
Laid beneath the bed posts.

Roaring heart,
Fueled with flames,
But the fire went out.

Pleasured faces,
Darkest temptress,
Tears in my eyes.

Lie through hope,
Plead and beg until,
The words are too much.

The flowers have fallen,
Summer is ending,
You sewed my lips shut.

Alone but not
when others fail to treat you well
and when you suffer from demons within

You rely on those demons
to come and save you
all over again
a concept I believe
others without demons 
can ever comprehend

Because people can't be trusted
because I'm too ingenuous to see
overly kind and take their side
instead of my own

In my hearts eyes
it's crystal clear 
that I can't always be accepted
who would
but my demons do
so why seek love

Anyone would see me as insane
but I chose to be this way
because I'm done 
burdening others that fall for me
I should be fine on my own

ghost-like, the song of syrinx,
seven hollow reeds plucked
to make a flute, a star-wish
where the dark waters ride,
(the horned god laughs and plays),

shrunk to a dusk, the river mute,
her voice trickles over stone
and leaf, branches reflected, pools and
caves where otters breathe, where
drinks the evening dew -

her voice fades like a star as pan
awakes, his pipe brushes her lips,
sings of the infinity of night of
a moon white-layered like stone,
dancing like a woodland breeze.

With crying seagulls, salt tears of spraying seas
this rugged coast of obelisk ancient stones
black blowing reign of squall and fury
the swallowing of sand and shore
tonight a ghost, a murmur of moon
the pitch grows ever darker
fretful wrath of wild ocean
awaits the calm to come,
the bright startle of
tomorrow.

i.

unwrap me tenderly,
pour your love
like water from a jug,
please me and
harness me,
bring me to life,
beneath your touch.

ii.

tonight the puddles
whisper to a wandering moon,
reflections like onyx in
dreamy pools, the
water’s soft breeze,
a stream of stars,
your love also, the song of a star.

iii.

the last heartbeat
of summer in the
honey light,

after the rain
everything feels
refreshed,
ink pressed to
the water.

iv.

nightingale-free
the breeze
whispers to the
trees,
dark-eyed, its
leaves a rose
on my pillow,
beats an ashy drum.

v.

you pull me to you,
i’m brought to life
by the sound of your voice,
caressing me with
your lips, my back
arched back, my ribs
a dream of you,
monet-reflected
in the night and in your
eyes.