Come to me brightly darling
With your sunshine steps
Rainbow brilliant illumination
I'm in need of your spot light hands
A guidance through the dark
My story book night light
Fire up this campfire heart
Ignite my aorta spark plug
Darling let me walk into your light
Drenching me in purity

You are my perfect nightlight
Giving me light in darkness
Subduing the fear in me
Protecting my shins
From dangerous coffee tables

Science has discovered the speed of light

I am present and perplexed at the speed of darkness

There was a locksmith in her finger tips. Every one of them showing a different ridge. A ridge of perpetual movement to find the right home. A slipped out the back door without saying goodbye. Ridges lining moments shadows like to hide from. When I hold her hand I don't ask questions. Embracing warmth between summer and the next breathe exiting her chest.

She was made beautiful. Crafted gorgeous. And stood untouchable.

I needed a locksmith. A savior with enough courage to talk back. Someone to open stubborn. She broke me human that night. Cracking my safe full of bad habits and leave out of this.

The lock fell off without a struggle. I was left, naked and afraid. Open and vulnerable.

I want to tell this to you now. But I could never find the words to tell you. I wrote hieroglyphics across your eyelids, stapled memos to your chest, and flew banners in the scenery while you dreamt.

Translations of these words alone will not be sufficient enough to tell you what I want to share.  I... Miss you. I miss you like a front tooth on picture day.

As death became reality
He attempted to convince himself
That if he hit delete enough
Enough people would pay attention
That his flair of calm temperament
Was a siren of helicopters
Berating sleeping neighbors
Wanting everything to be worth more than he believed

Poetey became a suicide note
Causing him to stop writing
With the fear of his words becoming eulogy
Bleeding paper with cut nerve endings
Fist indented desk topping
Proving a impending bad written letter
To people that may never read


Historians have probable cause
To explain what went wrong here
Until then
This man sits in glass bottles and retained thoughts
Smiling broken happiness
Through exhausted muscles
Knowing today won't be enough

Losing at winning
I lost you. In the ringing hospital machines and nauseating comfort of beds too many sick bodies have occupied. Through the stale air of the doctors presence. Into a room of 25 people each individually packaged. Wrapped in their sadness. Engulfed, longing for one more minute to donate to your blood stream. Lost in translation of recycled numbers that have bar coded too many lives already.

I lost you. In deflated lungs. Not only yours but mine. Speechless from all the things I forgot to tell you. The ones I have been screaming since. Running dry in a deserted lake bed wondering why these tears won't bring you back. The air I breathe is toxic. Feeling sticky as it slides down my throat for every breathe I wish you could still be breathing. Lost in life because you were life.

I lost you. In my finger tips. For everything I touch no longer grows. A gardener planting his lifes gain upon pavement. Praying for rain to experience everything wash away. Each moment of my days feel as if these callouses can't retreat. Creating barriers of a heart and mind. Stiffening my spine while burying coping methods under exit wounds. Hoping these scars will remind me of the time you patched my broken heart.

Do you ever wonder about the speed of love? Dashing through molecules infecting everything It touches. Probably slower than I talk because love doesn't need the words I speak to make sense. It probably takes its luxurious time moving in and out of spaces. Making room for exceptional.  or what about the way it moves. Dancing away like a beautiful Brazilian belly dancer, or maybe it slithers like a sneaky South African sea snake with Parkinson's. I've never seen the formula for such an anomaly. So I gave up on digging for disclosure in a sandbox full of worry. Instead I'll just watch it unfold over the soft crevices of life. Finding burrows to build up and burst over us. The kind of love I'm talking about is  love like when the sun loves the earth  with each and every one of is rays of happiness, daily smothering its every surface. love like the way water loves a body and the way that it gives so endlessly to someone who does nothing but *** in the pool of all it's family members. This is the love I'm talking about. The type of love that gives unconditional oxygen so we can be ungrateful and cut it down. Love can be selfish. Yes it can. But I refuse to believe love is always selfish, that we always cut it down. I have seen Forests for miles loving the earth nonstop. Love that will stand up for its other like the Venus fly trap eats flys only so we don't have to hear their buzz. Love is. Well love is us. We are wrecked cars, all eyes on us nice and tangled up. So let's love, harder than we were meant to.

Spine tantalizing sensations
Bringing xylophone ribcage shivers to a halt
Salvaging an output of love
From an input of purity

Find me tangled in webs of elation
Laying prey to your immensity
Riddles I don't want to solve yet
Simply to relish in moments of you

Each day comes as relinquish
From times before we found love
Hidden in blanket forts and wedding rings
Loving each other like children

As earth rotated into my darkness
The moon kissed my shadow
Hard into the forest floor
Giving my shades of gray
Reprieve in a family of identical
Light has been moving quickly
For too long
Attempting to fill space
That is already filled
Our shadows never
Fail to remind us that we are still here
Alive and breathing
Blessed by the grace of the moon

She lit a cigarette with good intentions
Took one slow deep breathe in
Holding onto the noxious relief for longer than reason
Finding single mother half time
Somewhere between 2 sons and a stack of bills

She put out her cigarette with exhaustion
Gripping onto any possibility of a helping hand
Her fingers a light house for the weary
She is disaster relief
Shelter for the homeless

She saved lives
While taking her own
With each smoldering breathe
Her lungs held in my chest
Smoke free for the first time

Our lungs represent love

Better than the heart

Even when I hold my breath

My lungs refuse to give up

Lets name her Lynn for short.

A girl with gorgeous hair. A place for wind to look beautiful. Without this girl wind is something invisible. She gives form to the breeze. The same breeze that carries her voice. One voice told so many I love yous and a few secrets I can’t speak of.

She had a heart of a locomotive. Traveling the world infectiously spreading joy into the ears open enough to hear her step upon the doorstep. Steaming up and spreading precious moments spoken from non other than the movement of her frame. A train off track and causing chaotic freedom to something that can’t be held down.

This girl I am speaking of has eyes of the future. When used they can’t tell you of the broken glass of the past but of the future possibilities she will be giving to you. The moments of forever, happiness, and pure elation. Those same eyes are the ones with a history. I want to be her historian. I want to study every date of her life to know every moment of triumph and every fall. I want to study her bones to see the indents made from the people who have experienced her grace. I will tell you everything about her. Writing a book about the times she stole my words. There will be books of blank pages if that were true.

Lynn has a way to put a definition to personal warming. Warming hearts and melting pasts. Giving light to those who are lost. Bring in the cold, lost, and fragile to place them somewhere of meaning. A way of true refinement. I can now see from the times were once dark. This girl has an infinity for endlessness. I have never seen something so completely, infinite.

Everyday I live with this girl in my chest. She has built a home there. One of structure. Fortified and permanent. And each day this heart grows with the constant fulfillment it finds from its new owner. A new forever has been written on my spine. This forever will be one spent with you through each and every moment found in my brain. A moment of now and forever more. The last moment before you fall asleep. That moment when you have your best thought of the day but your body is too tired to write it down. I want to live in your thoughts. Because from here you are living in my heart.

He told me he meant nothing
That his existence was void

How do you tell a man that his existence alone has taken the bullet out of the gun. Without his wisdom cliff tops would have turned to treadmills with legs giving out before the ******.

He told me he doesn't want to wake up
That his hearts is on overtime

How can I tell this man his exoskeleton reflects the definition of perseverance. My father was a bad movie marathon I never watched. You sir have redefined father.

I told him he is a father to me
He has given me faith in altruism
Leaving the conversation
I thought of the gun
How It will always be there
Although we will not

I have folded my words in half
Compacted containers of dense details
Hoping to mold diamonds out of my mouth
Wishing that there was a chance
That these words could take form
Of a perfect circumference
One just snug enough to fit your commitment
Engraving love within this unification
Chiseling your last name into mine

Whisper my future
etch them into your palms
drawing a line between you and me

Blink away my past
burn a vision of elation
one so vivid you wake me from this dream

Scream my name
so hard your throat believes you
and your name becomes one with mine

Marry me
give me the palm of my future
forever, just you and me

The words filtered in my heart with a slight jolt of unknown

Leaving me awestruck with open heart surgery precision

I wish to know

Once

Just how beautiful we could both be if we dropped expectation for return

If we allowed our love to flow through us as night riders touching each and every fabric of one another

Meet me between now and our forever

Even if forever lasts for just this moment

Wake me with your lampshade heart beat and I will always walk in the light

Losing your mother at 22
Realizing she was more to you than yourself
The only saving grace
Excusing itself from dinner early
Forgetting to push in their chair
An empty spot yet to be filled

Maybe death feels like this
Forever without you
The light refusing to enter darkness
A slip of too many tangles
Staring into too much of nowhere
Still wishing you were here

So I'm sitting here, meditating
Focusing on the present
Assuring myself I'm breathing
Each slow inhale
Forcing life into a body less deserving
I tell myself I must fill myself with life
So a bottle appears
It empties into my lungs


So now I'm sitting here, meditating
Focusing on the drowning
Assuring myself I'm not breathing
Each slow inhale
I tell myself this will mask the pain
So the end appears
It's fills my head

The trepidation was evident by the gleam over her eyes. Fallen books in an empty library don't tell secrets. Open the page to find a broken story of success under a starlit world. Hiccups only trouble the weary. Chase a dream of band wagon dreamers told of constant maintenance. Figure out the cost of being lost to find the difference in pure pleasure. A difference of angles and trajectory. The degree is far greater than the temperature of sadness allotted by your heart. Filling up on diesel for an electrical Heart box. Logical algorithms are not needed for oblivion . Simply factor in the tangible feelings of reality. This will guide the principle notion of being afraid. Divide that by unknown to the forget real power. After all the figuring, planning, and  orbiting, I shall place this here for the return of who knows. Because math is no way to solve a hitch in the mainframe.

If we keep spilling
our hearts--

often enough,

someone is bound
to mop it up--

Metamorphosis
The mimic octopus can make its body look like multiple different sea creatures. When it is threatened it will slide it's tentacles into the formation of a flounder and guide across the ocean floor. Or into a pseudo sea snake. I have always hated toilet snakes. This octopus can mimic about 5 to maybe even 15 different sea creatures.  Now I don't know much about how to change my body and I certainly can't hold my breathe for that long, but I do know the second I'm afraid I change into 34 things that I will never be just to hide in the moment. Giving a ****** expression of std positive on top of an eviction notice of your well being into the outside of your door frame. As I watched this animal take shape across my television screen I made the realization that maybe we are more similar than i want to believe. Because We often change in bedrooms daily. Shedding every moment of our days onto a floor that knows our secrets and won't tell a single reason why there's always an awkward silence when we enter the room. We strip off insecurities that want everything to do with us, peel back our inconsistencies onto the dresser without keeping the change. My dresser has seen every side of me. I'm not all to proud of the things i keep in there. Like socks that have walked over my exes because I didn't cleanse my anger often enough. Or the time I left my sadness in the bottom drawer because I couldn't let you know that my shadow isn't my best friend. Sometimes I think it might be better to follow him around. I have been running around in circles attempting to figure this out. I've dropped math equations into chemistry experiments just hoping for a better answer. When spring came the answer was released with small amounts of heat, a back flip of conversation and a let go of the handshake you held with the past. This is how we learned change. We formed into what we were meant to be. Flawless but full of empty spaces. open to be filled by things like compliments. Or things like patience. I guess it was change that wasn't ready for our presence of purpose. All of this was as clear as octopus ink. We shape shifted into animals. Animals that love each other so hard that everyday on top of every moment they give a piece of themselves away for the better of the whole. We created change into a perfect moment of mutualism. Okay I realize that this a little far out there. But this change molded my knee caps into tentacles, my backbone left me and I folded into an octopus so that we could understand the importance of changing the shape of a person. Shape that you may not see through a telescope but maybe you can see it trough your fingertips when you feel the power behind positive change.

For some odd reason I have always prided myself in my taste in music. That I could get lost in a new band I discovered. That maybe I can catch smooth riffs or ***** drum lines. This got me thinking, you remind me a lot of music. The way when you blink your eye lashes reminds me of the eloquent strings of a cello getting played in a 4 strong quartet in front of busy lives that never took the time to stop and listen. Your voice reminds me of the universal noise that everyone hears that moment you pick up a shell and put it to your ear. Not a single person can explain how an ocean can fit into a shell, but somehow the sound makes you forget the impossibility. The sound turns you into a kid and softens the sense of gravity in your knees. Your walk in a dope baseline hip hopping up and down my iris. Playing a steady rhythm I will spend each and everyday memorizing. Or the skin on your body. Shining like a fresh sheet of music. I can't read music. The different signs and symbols will always keep me in awe. That something so complicated and beautiful can fit onto a single sheet of paper. I take pride in getting to experience your music. I will put you on repeat. You are the most played track on my iPod.

There is a universe of dictionaries I will never read.
Library stacks of Volumes, collecting dust for most to see.

And here I stand in my ignorance.
Perplexed by your phenomena.
Extravagantly awaiting arrival.

Words don't always suffice.
When faced with extravagant.

Mother please,

Give me the strength to carry your legacy
The words you left here are heavy
Loving the world never came easy

Mother please,

Keep the dust off my memory
I want to remember you fondly
In your entire excellence

Mother please,

May I have your hands
Something stronger than my torn flesh
A way to hold on a little longer

Mother please,

Allow me to see through this
One step more than I took yesterday
Another breathe through the lungs you created

Mother please,

I need you
Here with me
Always

Remember me as your muscle
Torn down and then rebuilt

The horse ran for days. Without a moments delay it arrived to the infamous nowhere it set off to. Tracing tracks off of uncomfortable moments taken by men in black coats. That horse of his ran. Finding nowhere to run but away. Anywhere but here he told me. Here is not a place he could see his stampede of a heart settling. The stampede moved on. On and over. Over any and everything. Stepping on stools that looked like broken backs and flattened hearts. That cowboy kept running. He never stopped to recognize brilliance. The brilliance between his ears or the one between his skeletal cage of insides. The dust gathered on the platform he knew as home. People stopped by to visit once in a while. To find a flown coupe and no sign of coming back.

Nowhere. The place he eventually stumbled upon. Full of everything he has been running from. Trampling his neurotic brain waves with memories tucked in and put to bed. Cowboy couldn't make sense of the insanity. Of a pursuit of everything left behind would catch him before he arrived. The longing took over as judge. Leveling any possibility of freedom in conscious captivity. Haunting every step the man took away from every issue dropped in garbage cans. Cowboy stool up, chest out his quills drawn. Ready, steady, and ready to attack everything. When this man turned around. He found himself. Alone. Not a single heart around to listen. He did it. Ran away from everything. Including himself. Dirt and dust coving his mouth, the man stood in amazement. Astonished he had found everything he never wanted.

The moon spoke heavily in the sky
Drifting within time itself
Creating a comma upon gods plans
A pause of the hurry to get to the future
Hearts beating in unison
Gravity let go
Just long enough for
The world to freeze
To absorb the phenomenon
We call life

Most days I would offer my heart as an appetizer
Something to take the edge off
Never asking of much
Today I off my heart as the main course
Fulfilling your basic needs
Menu ready call my name
Write a poem in the form of review
Tell the critics of what you felt
I never gave you desert
For I never want the day to arrive
When you are fully satisfied

Her body is more than a form of elation
Delicate as a dandelion on a summer's eve
Respect does not define the way my hands have graced her
What happens when you take care of something too perfectly
That in the end you lose it
With too much delicacy you can never fully understand
The true beauty of something

I sat on a hill one day. It was spring. Maybe. Or maybe it was winter. Spokane can't make up it's mind anyways. I watch while the horizon tucks the sun into the blanket of darkness as night falls upon the everything bright. I forget that I'm still moving. That the earth doesn't slow down for me. Or that the eucalyptus forest in western japan still feeds pandas while I sleep.

There was a new feeling of glory that day. Of power raining down into my fingertips. The kind of rain that won't stop when you dry your hands. This long awaited arrival doesn't have a a departure time. Full steam ahead and best foot under.

I built a mountain once in 8th grade. Molding every tip and compressing every valley. That's this moment right here right now. I will stand on the top of this elevation, all 13853 millimeters of it and I'll be proud of the mountain that lay under me. We are too tragic to think we must all conquer mt Everest. That we must be the first and the best in the west. I want to be first at the trivial accoplishments. I swear on everything I'll be the first to find my miss matched socks. Or that one time I was the best at listening. It's so hard to listen when there's an orchestra in your lungs waiting to be heard. I want to be the first to the playground to show them how serious I take this thing called life. How I'll swing on those swings with the confidence of a bald eagle. Did you know they can glide for 3 hours without flapping their wings. If only I could focus for that...... There is a bird in my chest is what I mean. One that wants to fly. It's stuck in this cage of opinions and small talk keeping it at bay. Telling it how there is no time to reason with centrifugal force. You get too dizzy when the time comes. I'm dizzy with life. I have spent the last.... Too long trying to see straight. To figure out what path I should take. I want to be a teacher to help things with their smarts and stuff. Or maybe I want to be a garbage man to help people get rid of all their regrets with non of the space. I'll tell them to have a nice day as I tuck everything they stopped caring about Into my pocket. I want to be better. Better than I was before. I will be more than everything. Because right now I am more than a 10 letter word and I can prove you wrong with a pen. So as I show you 5 pairs of matched socks, holes in my 3 pairs of underwear, and a closed drawer I don't want to talk about, I hope you know that I am trying to show you how much I care. It's the trivial things that matter to this ghost box of a heart I have.

And some days
I am nothing more
Than a refusal to be
Another poorly written suicide note

I reached for my phone today
Wanting to tell you everything about nothing
Emptily expressing the deepest details of the ghost between us
Gift me your crescent ear one moment longer
A last call of slurred desperate expression
Forgive me
Drag me out of the bottle
Beat the intoxicants of father from my blood
Show me strength in separating the curves of blurred lines
Spread the gospel of the broken glass ripping at my thoat
Hoping to manufacture and disassemble yesterday
Drowning never felt so everyday
2,920 days of stories fractured under tongue and cheek
Placate my disgusting necessity for reassurance
Crash the ******* plane already
Zero gravity won't lift the weight boy
The blackbox may hear your desperate pleas
There will be no response
8 years of practicing crash landings
I reached for my phone today
How does nothing feel like everything

Transcribe these words into the soft pallet your sky
I want to rewrite your history
Exchanging my presence into every lonely moment you ever experienced

Remember me as a part of the past, present, and future

Melt my everything over the bad dreams you had
Of men who didn't know how to fill the space between your ears
Reassuring you my mother raised me to jigsaw my way into your thoughts

Remember me as a part of the past, present, and future

Create a log history of every time you thought of me
Yet didn't know how to say my name yet
For I have not been blessed with your presence yet

Remember me as a part of the past, present, and future

Plug my name into the blank spots
The one's where your husbands name will go
Plan your wedding with my image in your mind

We are no past, present, and future

Let me be a historian
Memorizing every inch of your life
Loving each event.
Loving you wholly.

Let today teach me the things that yesterday did not.

He told me he has hit rock bottom
That he sees this world in a Kaleidoscope of empty liquor bottles
His veins run thick with well whiskey from problems he has yet to talk about
My brother told me he can see the future
Things are clear there
That he will die
It is all facts when it falls off his tongue

I tell him rock bottom is okay
That from here the only direction is toward heaven
I show him what strength is
I ask him to trust me
I speak through tainted lips without the correct vocabulary
So I drink
Searching for answers in my brother rock bottom
Praying for new ways to drown
Knowing we will all die one day

Drink me up

Tell me what your heart really feels

My heart has become the only thing worth writing for

I would be lying if I told you death wasn't an option
We can choose it everyday
And most days i argue
On what the best course of action might be
Between Berlin walls and burlesque dreams
My heart has decided it's mind
Into suicide flower arrangements
Multiplying in hope that one of them might be better
Becoming a stem grown mistake
Leaf to sky
Praying to the god we call heaven
And the clouds we call hope
Make me pretty
Show the world my worth
Allow the tender fabric surrounding my inners to bring joy
Break my roots in a wish that maybe the ground can remind me from where i once came
That this earth returns us to form
Not the other way around
Eradicate the suffering so commonly accepted as the present

Own you.
Own things.
Own spaces.
Own desperation.
Exhale. Release.
Pick it up again.
Pick your actions.
Pick the way you say
The way you care is so fragile.
Don't diminished the experience.
Know you place.
Back right, second to last row.
The place where eye contact is a rarity.
Tucked in on comfort and limitation.
Give half *** is all that is asked of here.
Pressure is minimum.
Exemplary is less than effort here.
What are the expectations?
Inhale, move, live in a space.
Space is what you make it.
Classrooms, ballrooms, fields.
Own you.
Own presence.
Own breathe.
Own time.
It's of the essence.
Drop worthless.
Drop loneliness.
Drop perceptions.
Expectations catch you.
Trap door spider.
The shifty silhouette in the corner of the room.
Applying societal pressure on your jugular.
Snap the twig blocking your airway.
Rebel against the flow.
A river of that and this.
White water never felt so sharp.
Leather skin never fails in a rodeo.
Cowboy up.
Own you.
Own identity.
Own pure.
Own reality.
Head high. Heart strong.
Finish up.
Finish through.
Finish what you started.

In elementary school you learn about the importance of the 8 parts of speech. That with these essential bits and pieces of the English language you can grammatically slay dragons, build empires upon prepositional phrases, and verbally split wigs with hammering conjunctions.

Spitting flexible adjectives in general directions with a chance that someone might listen. I wish you could still listen.  I want to tell you. Verbalizing verbs with vicious vernacular. I shipped it. Wrecked it. Mauled it.

I want to fix it. I can't. I'm waiting. For the day I can hug you again. To apologize for the lack of complete. In life you complete stuff. Like when your mother tells you that you can't quit clarinet in the 5th grade, because once you start something, you finish. We never finished.

You left before we could complete. I didn't say goodbye or even hello. I guess I could blame it on pronouns. I could say well she didn't let me know, he was lost in his words. We didn't want to intrude on the walls they built with words that I never spoke. But without them I would be so much better off.

Or That we need to talk. We need to figure my **** out because some days this iceberg set of lungs I have, only melt when I don't need then to. So pass through me. Across the tremendous skin across my body in order for me to feel again.

The skin is tucked under this hard shell I learned to build after being poked all too often. Poked with things like goodbyes or when I can't tell time on analog clocks. Numbers are hard to compute when all I see is you. I want to quickly get over the slow process of slickly sliding into a hole I'll never figure out.

I'm in a directional pull towards who knows where with nothing but my brain space. We all know how dangerous things get in there. Like that time, when I was 7, I was convinced you were kidnapped by the bandit in my dream. Sleeping is hard these days.

I found myself in the hollow
Painting pictures of you
With no color and all the memory
A film with audio cut
Silently grab my hands
Trusting knives for fingertips
Show me how how to feel again
Painting this backdrop
Of the darkroom we hide in

Jon you love to teach with your mouth.  Please start teaching with your ears.

I am only one person.

Jon I know you care too much. Please don't ever stop.

I don't want to burn out.

Before you go to bed you think too much. Make those your most important. For they will be the ones you remember forgetting.

I never write down the things I wish to.

Jon breathing comes simple. Your mothers lungs were not as fortunate. Don't abuse the airbags in your chest.

I can't do this

Without your fingertips you wouldn't know what amazing feels like. So touch the lives surrounding you.

I have too many calluses.

You were given a heart in one piece. Stop convincing yourself it's broken.

I found hope.

Jon your dad left you for a reason. You are a man because of it. Now chest up like you mean it.

I miss him.

Jon she is here. In the snowflakes on your tongue. Sunshine in your steps. And in the muscle that helps you swallow the loneliness of her absence.

I dream of a life with her in it.

Jon you have one back. Please stand up for something worth your time here. Do it with pride doused in confidence.

I don't know my purpose.

Jon you are purpose.

Depression is the view from a plane.

Beautiful.
Intricate.
Far away.
Too close.
Out of reach.
Memorable.
Suffocating.
Vast.
Below us.
And above us.

Depression is something all around us.

Please forgive me

Hello there, looks like were here again, playing the same instrument, with the same breathe.... Awkward if you think about it considering I have not talked to you in a couple years. I know I wrote the last poem in complete hate, disgust, and well to be honest I really just don't enjoy your existence on the dirt we share. I don't share well with the selfish. But I kind of have some empathy for you. I feel for the unfortunate disposition placed upon your life. Your parents ****** more than a shop vac that was built to **** down unholy spirits. This could be something to learn from because we can't call the ghost busters every time the air gets *****. I want to clear the air between us. What I wanted to tell say to the man who donated ***** to my mother, hung around a few years to long and stained the life of a new white tee shirt, is thank you. Thank you for my showing up to any of my sports events, I know you would have enjoyed them too much. Thank you for never staying in my life more than a year, my eyes can only handle looking at your deflated life for so long. I really want to thank you for leaving when I was 3 years old, not for leaving me and my brother alone, we always had her, thank you sir for dropping my mother like a faulty Walkman with no batteries, she is an iPod with an unparalleled playlist that you never got to hear. Thank you for not listening to the way she loved my brother and I, she spoke soliloquies with a harp in her throat, piano keys for teeth and a heart made out of everything she picked up after you left. So thank you for not being selfish and letting us have her all to ourselves. I'm sorry I have hated you for so long, it just took a while for my eyes to adjust in the dark, then I realized I was in the shade. Thank you for your genes. I can drink like a fish, I'm balding at twenty two, and my second toe is longer than my big toe. Now I'm not complaining one bit, because those are the same genes that gave me this heart that wakes up and feels everyday the earth rotates, the ability to smile from ear to ear painting a canvas full of alright teeth, and last but not least you gave me the genes to forgive you. So thank you Jack Binschus, in my eyes, you are not that bad of a guy. yes, maybe you are selfish, addicted to any substance that will wet your beak, and have tunnel vision in a broken mirror showing nothing but images of you. I will never call you father, or dad, or tell you I love you, but I will tell you that the pallet in my chest that has painted pictures of hate against your everything is clean. I'm over you. We can move on, you can now live in peace not ever knowing that I forgive you.

Poetry holds me hostage
Whispers sweet nothings in my ear
Digs its nails into my back
Melts love into my mind

The sun reminds me of this computer screen
and I turn to find my bed empty
exhausted
Without any more words

Let me be the batteries to your sun
A force warm enough to lift you out of bed
With a smiling heart