I found myself on a cloud.
Surfing the skies with the wind on my hair and life in my veins.
I knew the trip had to reach and end, but I never knew when.

And so the day came when the trip ended.
The cloud just vanished under my feet, and I fell,
and fell,
and fell,
but just as I was about to hit the ground
a strange force kept me from it.

I wasn't moving.
I was just levitating.
Not in the sky anymore, but not dead either.

Numbness surrounded me.
A cold chill invaded my body, and I shivered.
I was gently laid on the ground, and lights went out.
Darkness.
Silence.
Not a sound was heard. Not even the beating of my heart.

Suddenly a bright light pierced my eyes.
When I could see again, a feminine silhouette was drawn before me
yet I could not see who it was.
She lent a hand.
I grabbed it, and she helped me up.

She spoke to me in the sweetest voice.
Singing like a choir of angels.
I felt safe again.

She wrapped her arms around me.
Her skin as smooth as silk, her touch as protective as a mother's.
I was safe again.

She flashed a smile,
but then it all faded to black.

I woke up... alone.
No one near my hospital bed, but something caught my eye.
A "get well soon" card next to some flowers in fresh water.

Again I felt warm, happy, alive.
My journey had reached it's end, but I was safe again.
It was safe to begin a new journey.

Men who look like ferris wheels
every color representing different aspects of their personality

The first three words don't have to be beautiful
they just have to make sense
like connecting dots on paper

men who love with their fists
and hate with their mouths
who once were boys taking things apart
like remote controls their own fathers used to beat     Obedience into their small bodies.  Left them with a fury tattooed across their hearts
Just to give them the challenge of putting themselves back together

They buy their wive's flowers after
a four day bruise isn't so glaringly purple anymore
not so accusing-
kiss her broken ribs
and tell their children midnight stories

children trained as mood detectors
human robots
know when to shutup
speak when you are spoken to*

Men who speak like cutting boards
Every slice of the knives in their toungues leave
hollow aching missing parts
just to teach their children that not all
things can be put together once taken apart

whose daughter glues together the parts of old telephones
to spite the missing pieces
so every welt he beats into her bones
she sings herself unbroken
until she stands robust and imperfect
there are holes in her armour
but she holds it together

with her fathers fists.

You have black eyes
You have ugly features
An evil streak
That's oh so seductive

There's a scar on your soul
That you don't know about
It's as clear as day to anyone
Who passes by your way

Your mean, silly and stupid
What a combination
You don't understand anything from any perspective but your own
Which makes you stubborn

You have nothing going for you but your arrogance
What more can I say
You're beautifully ugly in the worst way

I once wrote about an independent life
in a reality where I supported myself on
letters from the cute mailman, salad and
eggs, where although time was constricted
my heart wasn't, and I could be happy on
a diet of keen understanding and wisdom.