Writing to me is harsh and senseless
Whenever in light of day
I pick up the words
And scorch the paper
Forcefully

Writing to me is painful
It wanders within me
As an idealistic thought
Something I wish
To master

Writing is sweet and chilly
As a crisp december evening
By the trees
A hot drink melting snow where it sits
Beside me

Writing is in my mind
At all times
I believe
Even if it does not make itself known
in actual lettering

A cloud covers the light
Yet another and another
Dark blue turns baby pink

A bird is flying through it
I wonder what he finds there
Love or hate
All that is between
There
and here

Such a faith
in humanities
moralities
and God to whom creation’s owed
Slay the words the wisest man has spoken
and myself for speaking out of turn

With sweaty palms
Placed firmly down
I told you that I loved you

Zero words
Only gestures
I'll always be alone

With lively chats
Inside myself
I told you that I meant it

Merely sounds
Only gestures
I'll always be alone

I meant the things I did not say
just wanted you to know it

Pay me ransom
to release my fears
and let them go

Tonight I realized that little by little
I’ve realized my dreams
my plans

never simultaneously-
years apart -
which surely must be why
I never noticed

Rather than being fearful
I want to be bold
and shed a tear of joy or two
where the winters are cold
and beautiful.

A gaping hole has engulfed me
and left all but dreams behind.

I think I'm in Wonderland.

I’m having a real musical moment
a real flow of tunes
through my lungs
phone
and ear canals

I live in a hotel
where the walls are decorated with screams
One happy, one sad
and one inbetween

when “future” seems merely inevitable

He was a soldier
living alone
He was a soldier
roaming the war zone

Living one moment
but oh not the next
and thus falls to me
to make sense of in text

leave us be
love and me

for
in the past
I let you have
a piece
and you passed it back
to her

not me

yesterday
myself and they
strolled up the path to Neverland

and in a shallow grave
myself and some of they
found rest and space to pray

myself and some of they
on stones and grass and hay
and glory’s way

A memory squeezes my liver
my kidneys and stomach too.
Similar to that “guilty pleasure” I ate
before I got the flu.

This one lingers, spreads to bones
which is why I’m here.
Begging you to fix me up
or even better
disappear.

Boundaries are bridges
with misty edges
they can’t be seen
they can’t be felt
until the crossing

The other side is green
with newly sprunged roses
and water springs
or so it seems
until the crossing

As you pass
your clothes are stripped
and you long for what you left behind
But where you crossed, a steep ravine
and what you had it never was

So mind you, that you will be told
that roses are beautiful and springs delicious
To you they’ll never be
Listen to me

When all is done
what’s left is you - post crossing -
and the ringing laugh
of those who fooled you

I got taken aside
told that I had won in life
offered roses as a token.

I never liked roses.

I carry a mask in my purse
for special occasions.
Turns out
wherever there’s people
there:
occasion

Had life’s purpose been to dream
I would’ve been the queen

But ‘stead I am mere begger
melting in sun’s sweet beam

Fly away my dearest
to that place you cherished here
fly away as if to meet
a newfound atmosphere

And as I feel the wrath
of times we’d yet to reach
May I tread that path
and life to me you’ll teach.