sweat runs slithering snake
down neck.
should i
brush
my teeth again?

fridged food i haven’t forgot
chewed up
dental floss
goes between
teeth like
love
trying to         ruin its way in.

Ease of access.
slippage of heart

The light that swirls in between spaces of the branches of the trees and the spaces between our fingers

the light falls out of pores.

we're either coming or we have just left, dimming the room.

and people always ask, where is our light?

it's gone out for them, but not for us.

overcoming the drown
of the tide.
More afraid of death than
the act of dying
A sinner losing composure
lies imbedded in my lungs
the slip of breath
the exit sign taunting me
in my ball & chain.
their clinking reminds me of the
the windchimes intertwined in my mother's vocal cords

YOU COUGH AS IF YOU FIND MY PRESCENCE SUFFOCATING

The words that pool around my mouth are sedimentary
left over from geniune artists
a palatte unrinsed.
I feel so forced
to make it.
A starving artists' dining requests
put it on the tab
write it down
Let me make it. It's mine.
Times New Roman has a new Helen
and she has no time for rocking horses or wars.
Every time I write
I begin to feel incomplete
and it's so frustrating, all these words crowding the inside of my mouth
waiting for the go-ahead.
When their speaker cannot see beyond her own childish feet.

subliminating
making all the bad thoughts into firewood to build a fire to warm my hands.
Teeth falling out, scared of how you see me. scared to see how others see things.
latent content laying me down, sweeping me under the rug.
dirt.
My ego and super ego are fighting, i.d's sleeping with childlike bliss.
Typical.
Dreams are too scary, I'd rather be awake.
Escaping
REM
Rapid eye movement, trying to find an exit sign. scanning the polaroid- covered walls of my skull for a fracture in the bone, where the sunlight filters in.
freudian slip.
a mistake. linked to my mind when it drifts.
I call you by his name, remebering his face that haunts the edges of my vision.
I think I may need a doctor.
a therapist, a  drug, a wagging finger to ensure me that this will be over
it's just a breeze.
kicking up the hem of mydress that guards my freudian slip.