there's nothing but the traces of your person
of hands and feet that barely made it through
and sitting in your solitary sameness
you can't be bothered any less to move

the circles in the sun become your fingers
but rays of light they cannot be contained
to see the sky and all of its arrangements
you mustn't ever fight the pouring rain

the wind is only present if you feel it
it changes every shallow thread of flesh
you know it isn't over for a reason
the purpose for your life has never left

The sadness won't collect
unless you settle in its path
And let it move around you
to remember where you sat
There's nothing but a story
you were hoping not to tell
your mouth begins to open
and the words become themselves
These little deaths are part of
what you need to understand
This life is but a moment
you will carry in your hand
The binding's in the middle
where your heart can keep it safe
And hold it all together
when your mind is far away
Before you see your body
fall apart until it dies
you'll find the only solace
is the sorrow that's inside

My desire exists
And it is what I say
I wanted affection
But not in this way

your face is a fire
I  cannot compare
To anyone present
For no one is there

And I am a shadow
Of figments like you
The sorry exposure
you will not undo

So come to the corner
And open the door
Let's be in the moment
We cannot ignore

She walks on egg shells
        there is no second chance
she wears a dress of broken glass
         the consequences will be dire
She's heard it all her life
          this isn't baseball- there's only one strike
Even in drama games
          one small ***** up
                  one unintentional mistake
                          the crowd goes wild
                                 SHEEEEEEEE'SSSSSS OUT OF HERE!

I don't seem to belong.
To the beating hearts, the
worn out, dirt-stained,
wry,
perpetually filthy
bluejeans.
I just am.
And how can that be enough?
I am a sheep in a flock
without such a heart.
For if wool covered potential,
any of my skin would be detrimental.
How can such a beast feel
stuck between an
immovable slab of concrete
and what is actually real.

Listen to life unapologetically.
For if there is no response,
remorse may go unmuted,
but unheard.
The only problem
worth deeming absurd
is that I was given this
flesh-filled, ruddy red *****
with a broken bridge
leading a trite path
to spoken word.