we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections

I've got spiders crawling inside my head
They've got me like a moth struggling against their webs

And it's so hypnotizing the way I suffer
And it's so comforting the way I punish myself

I can see Spring
and her fine colours
from afar.
I long to stand under the
cherry blossom tree as
it rains confetti down on me.
Instead I stand in real rain, hazy,
pattering, smatterings of daffodils
pressed against barbed wire.

i bathe in serene
sleepy mountainside ledges
kissed by lips of fall

Take your heart
Unravel it
Uncoil the heartbeat
Into staccato imprints
Record your song

Take your dream
Feel it
Pull the colors
Through your fingertips
Paint your picture

Take your mind
Study it
Rope the chaos
Into a river of words
Write your story

My mind
Wanders
From bit
To bit
And but
To but,
Each feeling
Too big
To leave
Room
For the others.
And then
I notice
Space
Between beats
Between breaths
Between tendon
And bone
For me
To be still
While my mind
Just isn’t.