your first step on the road to "recovery"
was to tape words on your reflection
colors littered with senseless lessons
colors littered with senseless rules

your second step on the road to "recovery"
was to trail words on the thin walls
tainting the white trim of your door
the words were like water seeping from
your demon flooded bedroom

your third step on the road to "recovery"
was to illustrate the words in unsustainable images
literally photoshopped to the unachievable
recovery became self indulgence

you have a skewed sense of progress
thinking consuming the clean will clear you of your sins
but your sins are buried deep in the abandonment you kept hidden
in the hallows of your debt

self recovery cannot be found with words spat out of context
hanging on your reflection
self recovery is found when you reflect those words into context

innocence
the ticket’s too big to fit in my palm
the bag’s too heavy to trail behind
giants carried briefcases glued to their hands
and mourners took flight to the end of the world

my father’s gait was too fast
to keep up to for the short length of my legs
nina the yellow sheep bobbed happily along
as did the pig tails attached to my head with bows

despite the noise, the crowds, the lines
excitement fueled the erratic behavior of
the butterflies currently residing in my stomach
behind the 101 dalmatians t-shirt that dressed me

i never thought the airport would become a second home
the planes that flew over head while i looked at the sky
from my backyard would become not
just a mode of transportation

even if the thought appeared in my head
the young naive girl that i once was would be pleased
with the statement and rather excited as always
she would board 1000 planes and still wouldn’t have minded

experience**
the ticket is just an other piece of paper
and the bags were tattered with experience
the men with gray faces traveled with their gravestones
and the loved ones were still at the end of the world

my stranger’s gait was still too fast
but this time his urgency didn’t appeal
there was no stuffed animal to take away the dreams
just the headphones that contained the remedy

noisy crowds were just an other member of the family
they didn’t mind that the butterflies were now
dormant or dead or maybe they left when i had to
throw away my 101 dalmatians t-shirt

the 7 houses i previously occupied had all burned down
the airport was the only one still standing
it changed its face many times but held the same feeling
an airplane is a calm palace in the sky

sometimes i miss the girl that thought these houses were exciting
sometimes i miss the sweet naivety of her father’s ways
sometimes i miss the blank passport of the unknown
but then again 1000 planes later i don’t mind

i remember when
the avenue was empty
and street lights lead the way
the world was freezing
but i finally felt warm
my hands grazed the evergreen
contents in my pocket
“the city is supposed to scare you”
i told myself over and over
i was scared for sure

it may have been a vacation
but it felt just like an other tuesday
walking to the theatre
seeing a show i’d seen 100 times
turns out you didn’t need
120 dollars just the thirty
from the deposit on monday
i could spend the rest
on more useless items
to fill the absent void of my walls

walking out i knew
i could stroll two blocks east
to my best friend
i could walk 20 blocks south
to my residing hall
walking out i knew the city is just
a cheap thrill for the power hungry
an outlandish dream for the useless
i remember when i finally felt home
in a place that is home to no one

you can’t have it all but you can have hope
hope lives beyond your fear and your lies
hope holds opportunity, an other gift
hope is the only thing that keeps you afloat
the only thing that lights the way

you can’t have it all but you can have hope
hope ignites the words that ease the hurt
hope burns the demons that haunt you
hope fills the smoke in you lungs
but does not leave it there

you can’t have it all but you can have hope
hope runs fears in the opposite direction
hope takes the void and replaces it with a filler
hope can’t fix your broken soul
it broke your soul

you can’t have it all you can’t even have hope
you’re grounded to the shore
looking at hope floating the ships of your enemies
there’s no hope in the air
their words lied to you

there is room in my heart for you
you, who holds the one that loves you hostage
hostage to the pains and inflictions
of torture you hold in a silver blade
a silver blade composed of truth and lies
melded together in a beautiful engraving

we talked about angels falling
yet the next day you seemed to have forgotten
you threw your heart at the moon
and it landed in australia
you wouldn’t dare to tie it up in a bow
and give it to me in return for the
one wrapped in a present i gave you

it’s desperate and pathetic that my heart
still let’s you in despite the fact-
the fact that you eat hearts for breakfast
after impaling them with the
sharp wings on your eyelids
after telling them you love them
and then running back to your nightshade berry
after cutting the vein and running me dry
you still send surprises

there is room in my heart
but none left of my patience
your malice is too much
for a hazel in the summer

ice turns to air, freezing my insides with
every breath intake. the trees seemed as though
they were soldered, engraved by a goldsmith.
yet the grass is still alive without woe.

i sit isolated at a small park.
kicking the stones with many mindless swings.
cars ruin what’s to be silent as bark;
things have changed the old poets’ viewings.  

old poets like emerson who said that
nature leads to truth, but how could truth be
found in a place consumed by noise and chat.
worlds transcendentalists would hate to see.

this park may still be calming like before
but only lies are hiding in the core.