You're a cigarette and I
can't find a patch.
You taste foul in my mouth,
my tongue is dried out and my
words taste like tar as your
name rattles out;
I feel sickly satisfied as I realize
I have nothing else to scratch my itch.

You are
You have always been
a bad habit.

I quit.

Reverting back to my teenaged years
I pressed a razor into my thigh

I liked the way the blood
Mixed with the raspberry & vanilla
Suds in the bathtub
To make this ombré
Of maroon fading
To peach

My brain's been itchy
For weeks

I am overwhelmed
And imaginaing
The bathtub
With no bottom

Drowning
In a ceramic hole
That leads nowhere

My body
Wrapped
In
Raspberry
And Vanilla
Soap suds,
And my hair
Wet
And long
Between my
Shoulder blades

I wanna be
As pretty
As the ocean,

A perfect shade
Of baby blue,
With navy
And purple
Accents
In the deepest
Spaces

And I wanna be
Just as infinite
As the ocean,
Incomprehensible
To the modern
Human mind,

Everlasting
& Impossible

Went to take a bath

In a room with no windows

Disappeared
Without a trace

And no one will ever know
The bottom is an illusion

There is so much more
Beneath,
To dive in
Or die in

my mind
UNRAVELS
and lands here
At the brink
Of reality
And delusion

And I stay here
Because it's easy

And it's kinda silly

And no one is angry,

Not even me

But eventually

The water
Runs cold
And I start to feel
My
Heart beat
In my finger tips

And as I take the trip
Back to my body
I dread the dizziness
I know is waiting
On the other side

Cause I cut too deep
And now I have to
Explain myself
In the back of
An ambulance

And,
And,
And,
"Morgan,
Aren't you too
******* old for this?"

Oh,
How I'm homesick
Homesick
Inside of myself

The piano is the poetess of a lovers quiet world. Like sonnets and symphony go together,  he was a note and she played him well.

Too roughly hewn and cleaved around edges frayed
shaped and reshaped by these own calloused hands

I realize the shape of things ,... who I am ... who I've become ―
The sound of my own raw voice knows not convention ;
it was nothing more than words of fragmented tomes exposed

Only the broken wind covering footprints on the road not taken
on a never ending journey into a lonely abyss

These greatest fears I've come to know ;
my greatest weakness bared and borne
                                        broken dreams bought and sold,
                                        for less than they were worth.

In the chill of this winter darkness grown cold
a newly recurring silence echoes poignantly,.. 
                                                  ­             redux
                                                          f­orevermore
                                                           self-loathed
                                                               déjà vu ―
       
                                The only dream's fruition ever feared:

                     to walk alone at that predestined parting moment

                         within a stones throw of six feet underground ,...

                                 dropping to these knees at a threshold

                                              well-nigh left behind,

                            knocking at the door that leads beyond  ―  

                        never needing to know how to say goodbye …


                                 thinking out loud ... 11. 29. 2016

On the mourn it's you
Your essence fills my mind and
I open to fill

I will look past your wrong decisions
Might overthink your mistakes
But underneath it all I know you're better
Always taking a chance on someone I believe in
I'm in the pool of your promises
Forever

Beth figured she’d marry a man with a full tool box
capable of building a house anvil strong,
                              
a man who’d plug her good and help raise
children with squares jaws,

he’d  praise her Christmas fruitcake,
provide every American good thing;

she added
wrong.