i put my pen to paper
and try to conjure beauty
but there's nothing beautiful
about yellow teeth
nothing beautiful
about your stomach groaning
in large groups
about falling asleep starving
about eating tissue paper
to stop feeling hungry
nothing beautiful
about looking at an apple and seeing
60 or half an hour of push ups
and not a ******* apple
nothing beautiful
about bleeding knuckles
and pounding heads
about ***** in whatever
hair is left because
it's all on your bathroom floor
about light fur growing on your arms and legs
grown by your body to keep you warm
nothing beautiful
about feeling dizzy, always
about fainting on the treadmill
and getting a rugburn on your face
from the pressure
nothing beautiful
about tubes in your nose
feeding you sugar water
about sharp ankles on cold scales
about needles in arms
about shaking uncontrollably
nothing beautiful
about cold.

and there's nothing beautiful about death.

as a kid
there's nothing
like wasting away inside a tiny
room
sitting on the backrest
of the couch
looking out the window
and seeing her
tread through the rain

a red umbrella covers
her.

Mother

she's going back
to the liquor store

The soul must know something
that the mind
can’t comprehend

That’s what they said when
they watched him
from afar

He slept under the bridge
at night

During the day
the poor fool sat
by the river banks
and threw stones into the water

All day long

With obsession

And when he’d see no other stones
he’d start crying

Few things are more disturbing
to the ear than
the cries of an adult

He had a family some years ago,
they said

Had a wife and kids

And a job in the mine yonder

Then a boulder fell on his
head one day and
along with his mind
it took everything away from him

She flits
Through my mind
And I
Feel her
Laughter
In my bones
As joints
Release
With a pop.
She rests
Around the edges
Of my mind
And I feel
Her burdens
As I
Reach into
Growth.
She gazes
Into my eyes
And I
Recognize
Myself in grey
As breath fills
My body,
Making room
For all
Of what
Could be.

sometimes
there are no other words
that will do
no embellishment worthy,
no outpouring of devotion.
sometimes
all i can say is,
i miss you
more than i ever knew
my bones could take.

A great artist once said
Art is when someone’s subconscious
Talks to another person’s subconscious
Through art
I believe this to be true