19 April 2013.
Today is silent.

Today I write day of silence on the back
of my hand, letting the words sink into my
skin the way they try, heavy as they are, to sink
into the minds of the ignorant chatters who ask
why I haven't spoken. If, indeed, they've even
noticed. Nodding and smiling will get you pretty
far, and people hear their own voices so loudly
as to assume yours has just been drowned out
by their own superiority.

Today I get home before everyone else and
I scrub the words away, because while it means
the world to me and I stand for what it implies
I cannot show it to them; they don't know who I
am, but they think they do. I do not have the heart
to crush their reality. They're wrong. There is only the faintest
off-colored tinge to my hand now. It could be a scar.
But they won't notice it. People cannot hear something
as loud as silence— certainly, then, they cannot see
something as loud as scars.

Now not even the message remains.
Ink down the drain.

This is the house where lonely lives..
skeletons in my closet, my only friends..
I might just lose it, it's evident..
Give me an angel heaven sent..
I keep sending prayers god won't answer it..
Maybe the address is wrong, return to sender..
I'm never sober anymore I can barely remember..
What got me here, and with who..
Predetermined destiny, not for me i pick and chose..
What's to lose..when you lost it all..
Prisoner of my mind, and these 4 walls..
Build me up to watch me fall..
My phones disconnected can't accept that call..
Leave a message ill be back one day..
When I make you proud like i always said id do one day..
a man of my word I won't take it back..
It's never good bye even if I don't make it back..
Ill see you one day later than sooner..
Such a pretty flower, it was just a late bloomer..

Today I stopped smoking cigarettes
I decided, looking at the sky
I was thinking about your smile
And how I’m already breathless

We were sitting by our open doors
Two feet from our two worlds
Filling the in-betweens with smoke
Clouds, through I would explore.

parallel motions
aligned in asymmetrical
      symmetry of the
subconscious eyes seeing
abductees of the mind
     gathering in blind
            exitement

opening to the silent sound of
fingers painted in rainbows

        touching the innermost
    honesty of every verbal
echo

mending hearts
                 in no time at all
         needing nothing but
*devotion

silence.
what? don't you have something to say?

darling, i always have something to say.
my mind is a construction site
alive and busy
people everywhere, moving
every which way
but it is so far away that
to me they are but ants
small and busy, so many of them
who knows what they are doing
what they are thinking.

i try to build words, but i am
too weak to lift them,
they are heavy as bricks
to my crew of small ants.
sentences thicken
into mortar that your
strength can master,
but when my ants
band together, bricks on
their backs, to spread it,
the weight crushes them
to the ground.

i fall before the words.

but
i always have something to say.

say it, then

.

why is it that everything about heartbreak
sounds like a cliche

heartbreak is not cliche
it is different for everybody
it is the most personal thing
and the most painful

it demands  time
and space
and respect

it effects each person
so differently, so
profoundly,
and while only those
who have experienced
it can claim to understand,
even they cannot claim
to understand fully

or maybe people are just
so self centered, inherently,
that each assumes her
heartbreak to be the
deepest.
and how lonely it is
to be experiencing more
pain than all those surrounding
you.

just the sort of heart-wrenching
loneliness one wants
to wallow in
in times of heartbreak