Alone again,
Paper and pen,
Writing a sad rhyme,

Need a friend,
My heart to mend,
Lost, and killing time,

Make my stand,
Grab your hand,
Holding on so tight,

Do what I can,
To be a man,
But day, falls to night,

So alone I sit,
Writing my fit,
Wondering if you feel the same.

The skin wrapped so elegantly across these bones of mine
acts as a barrier
separating me from everything else,
as long as I keep my lips pressed firmly to each other
I can manage to prevent
spilling my guts
that's best for every one I think.
No matter how I yearn for the relief of pressure
when my heart tries to escape my chest
at best
and at least relive the flood of my thoughts.

I ought know
wearing this suit of skin isn't enough
glacial blue eyes are an open well
speaking of sorrow to anyone with
a decent pair of eyes to tell.
even my perfectly placed smiles
pale under that shadow.
the utter vastness of the loss I feel
reminds me how large I am
regardless of my frequency of meals.
the expanse in my chest is so immense
it seems I am tearing at every seam.
most every thing I have held dear,
slipping through the fraying tear.

voices from limited perspectives telling me how I ought to feel.
quivering with anticipation to mention
my over reaction to small things,
at small hills appearing in my waking dreams
as vast mountain ranges,
imagining tragedy in the  frame of my yesterdays
and through the lenses of life's strangeness;
preparing to head out with the Donner party
while you take stroll up a grassy knoll basket in hand,
while i'm measuring out my morality as meticulously as grains of sand,
and you
never once wondering the weight of all the other burdens I am carrying
and have carried try to tell me, i'm insane
for preparing for rain in dry summer heat.
with no one to share my pain.
I assure you i'm not insane
I just go through my life living as me.

but you have not lived the life I have lead
and dare not to spread the weight.
at worst,
I like to think of myself
As husk of skin wrapped around a strength unhindered by my physical size
existing out of the vastness within my emptying heart.
I will be alone to rejoice at my discovery.
there are a small number of things that can not be taken away
and it is those things I have discovered,
no weight can crush me.
I have carried the world on my frailest shoulder
I have been trapped and many have unloved me
but my chest still rises
in lows and highs
and no one has ever taken the endless opportunities
that dwell  deep within the days I have never seen,
but they come, and are always coming
they are the possibilities of things I have never even considered.
And while most days I feel I have not but withered and fallen farther from things
another piece of me fly's and rings.
godless or not I have found my faith.
welling up inside me trying slowly to fill this space.
to fill me with humanity.
I Have faith that things change, are always changing.
These feelings and this space will inevitably cease to exist as surly
as the way I miss the presence of my loved ones on this turning ball in space
my love will outlive that pain
and like so many other things
being lonely is a temporary state.
that is the strength within me.
life tested for durability
I will endure. I endure everything.

sometimes when i'm angry at the pillow beneath my head, and the ceiling for shifting in
the slow shadows of my room at night,
at the headlights that flash into my bed room window,
at the neighbor who's screams echo
in the cacophony of the outside noise
and the inside static
in the pensive thrumming ****** manic
turning troubled erratic thoughts
more times than not
its overlapping tracks
of your voice saying key phrases,
"disappointed"
"pathetic"
"crazy"
"victimizing"
"lazy"
"­loner"
"with out friends"
"leave"
"angry"
animated by that awful look and
eye roll you always gave me.
desperation lead me to the asinine assumption
that if i was brave enough to bring
your attention on me
you would see that i needed something
i needed anything.
acceptance
an ear,
suport,
an explanation,
a conversation,
a friend,
a few words of encouragement,
to be freed from your damnation,
a bit of patience
mother,
i needed my mother
and you never came for me.
no one ever came for me.
you gave me cruelty all the way to the moment of my liberation
where I was finally granted distance
and silence
but sometimes when I hate my pillow,
it's because
when it's dark,
and it is loud ,
I hear you in every sound
in every echo
I hear you.

dear mother, protector, teacher, communicator, bridge to my self empowerment, to my confidence, my role model and friend. when did you start to hate me? and mother when, when did you start to love me again?

I told myself every idea was *******,
just white noise sloshing in my head,
until I could bury that urge to put pen to paper
knowing
deep down behind the wall of sinew and flesh
pumping oxygen and platelets
deep beneath my skin
I just  hated feeling like this.
I gave up expressing myself,
convinced
of my deaf audience
convinced
that perhaps everything
I did was
worthless,
When I broke my reality
and rose from the ashes fresh glazed
from the fiery kiln of my personal hell
I did not realize I was to experience the most
monumental of my creative acts,
the recreation of myself
in complete solitude.
And perhaps
I'm still a little angry'
and very sad.