the ocean came into my class one day
no knock
no introductions.
she told me to hold onto my desk, and I kept forgetting to breathe
but she washed over me calm and sweet.
her water felt more like my mother's touch
than my father's.

"you won't have to ask me about it when the time comes" she said
—as if I would!—
"I'm all for secrets,
as long as I know them(just tell me a little bit, please)
it's better that way, for my health and all"
she was more informal than I expected,
she told me that I'd be better off alone:
"someone like you" —as if I didn't know who I was!—
"should always keep a hand nearby.
it's easier to stay standing when you know you won't fall"

I listened for a bit to the waves
lapping up against the chalkboard—as if I could read it anyway!—
and when the bell rang the room cleared
alone, she whispered "this is better for us"
and I wasn't sure what she meant, but I nodded from my desk
"this is better than talking"
she held me close, inside of her.
her touch felt more like my own than anyone else's.

History may repeat itself
But tonight is a stake in the ground of time
Rooted in the day
Never to grow old

"We will never have tonight again"
Leave no thoughts unvoiced
Say whatever you are thinking
No regrets

After all, open forums are tough to come by
And here exists one
For a short while
So speak your mind

Invite all the elephants
Into the room
Indulge
"We will never have tonight again"

Find the words
You thought were impossible
But the world needs them
But I need them
But you need them

And there will be no more perfect timing
No second chances
There is only tonight
And the weight that needs not
Rest upon your shoulders

Resting on a fallen tree looking up into a shaded sky
At orange and yellow spectacles aglow
I faintly hear the ancient forest breathing in a sigh
Drifting to my wonder here below

A glistening dewdrop shudders in a crystal mesh
High above from a speckled leaf
Aching to just let go and begin its life afresh
Grasping for a taste of relief

I hear a lively rustling in a nest way above me
Joyful chattering of a tiny squirrel
If he knew, I was here now, listening to his glee
Such a hush would fall upon his world

A song of jubilation rings through changing leaves
Planning a journey to warmer climes
Singing winter is a showing, cold wind we will receive
Gather round all my family, it is time

Countless hours I have rested on this fallen tree
Looking up into a shaded sky
I too can feel a cooler breeze setting winter free
Along with the ancient forest I now sigh

A severe civility rests within
the soul,
of the broken hearted man.

That burn which test, his fabric's core
has torn
the once strong warp; no more.

His eyes are filled, of far off light;
enough
for only, each sole night.

His words may break in lines, between
the bones,
of the sentence, of his meaning.

Not the whole man, he used to be
for reasons
less obvious, to you and me.

He keeps his grief apart, so he
can bury it
some place, secretly.

And though he never go there again:
his eyes
his loved one's shroud, still rend.

I miss you, and I'm afraid to ask
Where you've gone, where you've been,
How you are, and most of all, if you still are-

I fear the answer most, that doesn't come,
The reply that never arrives:
Bravery was never my forte.

But I wanted to say I miss you
And that I imagine you doing well-
Because that's the only vision I can withstand.

I wish I were the kind could shore up another,
Be their rock and guide, through stormy days.
Unfortunately, I am only that one who stays quietly faithful
In the inner heart, till the very end.

But I can't imagine there being an end to you
Or of that vision that you are the only container of
Ever met with, in my lifetime of knowing.

So I will only say, I wish you well, forever
Come what may, and hope that we will meet again-
Some other, better day.

Once you flip the addiction switch there is no escape
it becomes part of your DNA, a code stitched to a piece of your soul
Since the first time i kissed my wrists with something sharp i was taken under its spell
Even when you stop cutting you're addicted because every day you have to think constantly, "No, don' do it. Don't write your problems on your arms."
Every day until i die
that's the choice you make when you do dangerous things
you play with fire and you get burned
and I'm ashes my friend
ashes to ashes, dust to dust, blood to blood.
cutting is not a way for me to get attention or pity
its many way of control
when your life is swirling around you in a spiral of puzzle pieces that don't fit control is key
cutting is control
and as much as i fill these white pages with lead and tired words, it will never amount to the pleasure i get from filling my wrists with blood
i haven't cut for x days but that doesn't take back the 6 years i destroyed my skin or make me any less of a cutter
I am a cutter on hiatus and old habits die hard
I'm okay for now, but there is nothing more powerful to me than singing metallic

that's always the first thing I think
                    love
when lofty           begins to
                                              sink.