You are entitled, they say
I asked for too much on christmas.
I asked for time, and wished for difference.

She stands on stilts and judges outsiders
This is all for you, she claims
From behind the shattered window pain.

I gave birth to you, she says.
You are an adult.
Scratch that.
You are a child.
Strikethrough.
You are a burden.

I am crippled without her
I am broken when she's near
She doesn't want to hear

She's too far gone.

We sat behind the book stacks
and talked about our lives,
to an audience of novels.
You made funny noises
and talked about Australia.
I emptied my thoughts to the shelves
and draped my emotions over the light fixtures.
You were awkward,
you bit my lip when I kissed you.
I loved it.
I want you to feel my admiration.
Open your doors
and let me inside.
Lay with me behind the stacks
and value our existence.
Libraries carry many stories.

Your hair was shorter than I remembered
Your figure slimmer and very different
from this past December
You're tears fused with the forrest rain
And flew off your hair as you ran through the brush
Your voice, piercing and shrieking in pain


Starring directly into the sun,  your silhouette appeared
I never thought I would run from you
It was then that I knew I needed him here
He was waiting with open arms where the sun met the rain
A part of the woods I had never been
I entangled myself in his arms; ran my fingers through his mane

It was then that you realized, this time I wasn't coming back.

I saw you sitting in your kitchen
Dead, but lingering in your own absence
You were younger
Grazing your hands against the apple place mats
Your nails a pale purple, beautiful and no longer crooked
You were no longer in pain
Your hands would glide through the air
Without the look of hurt I used to see in your eyes
Each time you moved a finger
The friction of your joints
Burning, and hindering movement

I watched him fixing the picture frames
Folding blankets on the back of your favorite chair
His body ancient and crippling,
His mind stained and imprinted
His soul lonely, lacking something
But his faith notices your faint linger
The smell of you still trapped in the couch cushions
Your presence everlasting in this home
He passes you, sitting at the table
With your gentle hands
And for the first time in weeks
He smiles.

I am still amazed
that the gentle white seeds
and the vibrant, alive yellow petals
are the same flower. I feel
both against my fingertips,
and realize how different they feel. I
am in love with it's gentle touch,
but filled with sorrow as the seeds
fly away with the wind. I saw a
young child, blowing away
the seeds of the dead "flower"; creating new
weeds that will blossom yet again.

Standing at the shoreline
Its like I’m freezing for the first time
Drizzles touch my body and melt my soul
This oceans completely out of control

There’s no stopping these waves
The winds been howlin’ like this for days
So get off your feet and look outside
And ill be standing there throwing pebbles at the shoreline

Without a towel, I dive right in
I feel a new life start to begin
Right behind me, dive in? you’re torn
I’ll catch you right before the storm

Together the Earth swallows us
My soul was picking up dust
You came along and made things new
The oceans never seemed so blue

Leave the shoreline before the rain
Don’t forget the day we came
Always remember, even on dry land
The girl who was always your greatest fan

A small yellow puff sits silently

In a never ending landscape of dandelions

Silence can speak wonders

But only to the ones who want to listen

As the dirt shifts beneath our bare feet

We step through the part of untrimmed lawn

Each step we take makes an imprint on the world

The grass flattened beneath us


In this open field of possibilities

I can only keep my eyes on this single yellow puff

At night it closes its eyes to the world

At dawn it opens to the rays of the sun

Brilliant, yellow, vibrant

Yet only a simple ****

A shocking hole to the heart
A scar that can temporarily re-open
Especially after hearing your voice
Take your pain out on me
Lash me until I’m dust on the sidewalk
Crumbling where I stand in-between the parking lines
The phone shaking out of my hands
Now taken into the force of gravity
Its time to make one last swing
I’ve surrendered, its over, I’m done.
Beat me until I’m unnoticed
Back to the ground where I came from
Torture my being with your words

Too many holes, he said,
Referring to my ears.
Or perhaps my chest.
Thumping, squeezing blood faster

and faster.

Raging, thump, hatred, thump
Air escapes my lips but the words
too evil to be spoken.
So my eyes are driven into the seams of the carpet.

Only one little boy knows about the airplane
That will take me to a land unknown
Where it is okay to believe in mermaids.
And romance.

Where it is okay to pull the scarves
out of the hole in my chest
faster and faster I pull and pull
until all I am left with is me.

Run outside to the car
in the dark
in a thunderstorm.
Listen to
the dogs bark as
Earth's drums repeat.
The beats are soft
and then become louder
as a band of clouds
marches across the skyline.
Board an airplane
at 2am
Sing softly a tune
you learned
while your sister
was in the shower.
but skip imitating
the soothing pitter patter
of droplets.
Watch other planes
take-off but be
not afraid of flight.
Date somebody
completely different.
Watch them
and know they may
not be forever, but enjoy.
Lend out your heart
in many places;
for it will stumble
upon mountains
and valleys.
From a valley,
the view isn't as great
but the climb out
is worth it.
The heart may race.
The breathing pick up pace
Headaches
Heartaches
We've got them all.
And valleys will be valleys.

Dear Christmas,

You have left me with tears
Too many times before.
Reminding me that I am a nomad.
A wanderer.
Pushed out of the nest to fall to the unforgiving ground,
Crushing my beak.
You have laid me on velvet
and ripped it from under me.
You have burnt my desire
and suctioned any leap of excitement from my stomach
You have crushed me with ex lovers
Draped me with winter scarves
when I am going to the tropics.
Covered me in a blanket of snow
falling all over my natural being.
I am not entitled to happiness today.
I am elected as a fool.
And stomped upon, turning my soul inside out.
My grandmother would turn in he grave,
Knowing you live the way you do.
Christmas, where is the joy?
Why can't I be in the city,
Feeding the homeless turkey and pie?
But instead I am mourning over a scarf.
Who have I become?
And who are you?

Spilled beverage
Slowly seeping into the carpet
Over washed dishes linger in the sink
Foam from the sink to the floor in waves of three
touches the bottom of my socks
Puffs of smoke
Absorb inside my lungs
I've been invaded by this drug
I'm weak, I'm worthless I'm out of control
And people will never look at me the same
My insides start to rot
My world is no longer rooted in reality
I enter a land of insecurities
A land where my body separates from my mind
I've lost every ounce of patience
My mind spins, I hit the floor
Trembling, perishing, disappearing
My chest cavity begs for a break
Barely breathing I reach for a hand
A soul bound with calmness and serenity
I attach my body, a mechanism of coping
Because I have lost all connections to myself
Heavy head, spinning trees, time has no more meaning
How many times have I paced around this building?
How long has my body been taken from my soul?
How long until people realize that there is something terribly wrong?
Like i've said there has been all along
A brain tumor
Or a person rotting to the core
A real, living person
Somebody who exists
And is decaying from the inside out
With no escape but waiting
I want to hide
I want to separate these two mixtures; these two sets of self
My body and my mind
They say the body and the mind work together
But for me, I am betrayed by myself

Stop one second in time
And think “what could become of this?”
Or make what could have been reality
Don’t settle for a life jacket
When you can have the red sea
Why did you come to me so suddenly
Why did you enter my life and allow me to love you
Because I don't see a reason why you can’t stay
I need someone to tell me I’m worth it
But I want to choose that person
I want that person to be you.
Hold me through it all
I can and will stand tall
I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before
Where have you been?

The crease between his eyes
when he laughs. The fact that
he is the epitome
of beautiful. The other fact,
that he
can't
stand
it
when I call him beautiful.
He is beautiful,
in the essence of the word.
Because he is ever so genuine.
Innocent like a baby bird.
Because he is a bulldozer,
pushing through the rough terrain;
he makes it look easy.
Gentle, a feather grazing a cheek
Passionate; fire unfolding and unfolding
into ferocious flames; intimate coals,
sizzling with heat as they huddle.
Because he bobs like a turtle,
draws cartoons that are real
and sparks my renewing imagination.
The fact that he withstood the bubonic plague
and kept me on the other side.
The fact that a poem is nowhere near
enough to explain
what he means to me.
He is the mountains.

I never thought about geese migrating south
they always come back
to their mating ground,
never to once mate abroad.
Away from their home they fly miles
brisk winds over feathers,
death of loved ones
mid-flight.
Before takeoff, they huddle in the sun patches
soaking up the warmth of the last days
before their adventure begins.

I never though about the trees
and their intertwining branches.
Reaching for love in each direction
Branching off of ideas
Death of leaves mid-year
Only to liven again though the seasons.
The cycle goes on, and I stand still.
Where is my cycle?
Should I migrate, take an adventure?
Should I branch out new ideas?
When I huddle for warmth,
how do I know
where the best sunspots are?
Certainly not under the branches.
They say the apple falls not far
from the tree.
Will I do it like they did?

He walks out of the cab
Hands in his pockets and he looks at me
Something inside him causes a scream
His red eyes beam in my direction
I stand still; silent
I imaging the crack throbbing though his veins
He looks at the ground
He looks at his wife without making a sound

His 11-year-old son sits quietly on the stairwell
The man walks right by him, without even a glance
The monster inside him begins to give way
He wishes he were sober
He remembers leaving his son stranded in the driveway
He decides his life will soon be over

There she sits, standing and looking into my eyes
Her little brother close behind
Thoughts exploding through her mind
She wishes he were sober
She can't run from her thoughts
Her spirit starts to rot
And anger takes its place
She knows his time is ticking

Holding back tears
It's time to say goodbye
It’s time to let go
I let out a sigh
And I realize the fight is over
He will never be sober

I told him I loved yellow roses
and dandelions.
we danced across the campus like lovers;
I talked, he didn't.
He didn't need to.
Interwoven fingers, high hopes, and
the pages of my sketchbook mixed with tears,
stained with charcoal. The same expression used by primitive men
in the caves of the world.
Lacking words, but speaking wonders. I asked him
to say what he meant, and I saw it in his eyes. He was
never able to recite lectures about love but he knew,
because he remembered the yellow roses; and the beauty
of the weeds.

I always tell you that in my eyes,
your face is shaped like an hour glass.
It is only a small amount of time,
just one last drop of sand
before you make me feel calm.
Like the world is suddenly safe,
and in your arms i can be me,
without the baggage of worry and fear
that i carry with me throughout my days.
Your sweet skin is soft, and smells like the wax of a candle.
When you enter a room, I look beside me for something
Why didn't I get any flowers?
Where is my box of chocolates for you?
You mesmerize me, baby.
You have me wrapped up in your serenity,
in your loving and docile nature,
and your sweet ability to lull me to sleep.
You whisper in my ear and i hear the sound of the ocean,
peace and quiet.
The seagulls silently float on the edges of the water
and your voice is the soft and carefree wind.
My heart is open, and ready for you
and it wants nothing more than for you to stay.
So for every today's tomorrow,
And for each wave that foams beautifully on the sand,
I love you.

you're so vain
you think i would wait around
wondering aimlessly though life
unable to live on without the thought of you
you left me stranded on an island
where not one part of my life was clear of your traces
like your footprints were un-washable, tattooed, and stained
but now i have grown stronger
you are a distant memory
a faded image; a possible mirage
however, i do not regret you
i know those three years held a purpose
they changed me from a wild teen
to an actual human being
but the change did not come from you
it came through you, but from the inner depths of myself
you were my life jacket; but i have always known how to swim
you were my lifeline when things got rough;
but i never needed you.
I don't need a dish towel of a person
to keep me standing.

I never knew how to fit you into a poem.
Because for you, words are felt like knives or hot tubs.
We both live in fantasy, where romance exists.
But at the same time, you are logical and honest as a compass.
And I always said I preferred metaphors to similes.
I always described my ex lovers as having a face
shaped like an hour glass.
But with you, I can't see the sand falling, or the time ending.
I see your eyes genuine and filled with passion for success.
You wonder how it will all fall into place.
It will. It always does.
You are the train I was waiting to take,
out of my cyclic masochistic nature
Into a world of senseless sense,
fantasy and logic
and cartoons in real life form.
You are the ocean;
We are the ocean,
Filled with possibilities.
I have always said that the ocean
is where I belong.
Even when you need solitude
to think and write and believe.
I will always be here for you.

I was told it was beautiful
when i cried, sprawled out on the carpet
thump of my heart, chest to floor, chest to floor
nails scratching the seams

I remember that day
we looked at the stars through the windshield
and you said I sighed beautifully
so I sighed, and kissed you deeply

I remember the day you brought me coffee
in hopes of getting me out of bed
and you said i looked beautiful in the morning
my eyes small as slits and my throat coarse

Then the day came
you were silent as a dear
tiptoeing on leaves with utter fear
your humiliated face stained white
you said I was beautiful

And I scratched my fingers into the carpet
eyes as small as slits, wet with tears
my throat unable to speak,
anything but a small sigh