I am cigarettes, chocolate & cotton
The things that melt, not what freezes,
I have no patience & I won’t spare your feelings,

My skin is a canvas, it’s never empty
Bruises in water color, blood in ink,
Grace in the day, destruction at night

Selfish, megalomaniac & narcissistic
Not a shred of sympathy but empathy that’s endless
I have spent my entire life trying to get out of my body

Live outside my mind at all times,
repression, displacement, denial : defense
my anger consumes me & i can't see why

I have spent the last decade puking
my sexuality is twisted & it’s always been about power
tug of war, to keep the upper hand & keep them down

In the mirror, I see myself at 2 years old,
singing & kissing my sister on the forehead
& then pushing her into Christmas trees

I am open, gentle, loving, creative & kind.
A picture of fragility & resilience
So blinded in the light of this life

Forgive but never forget
& such grudges kind of weigh me down
I’m just scared they’ll all do it again & I’ll be the Fool

My mother has only slept, ate, drank, spent her way through life
When I’m really strong, I’ll let her off for that but right now,
I just can’t

I have always wondered why I was not like the others
& then I decided I didn’t want to be
they are puddles & I am a lake:

I’d rather swim, & risk drowning
than never see the depths of my being

The problem with me is that I believe in souls.
A dangerous belief to say the least.
I feel as if I have lived this life a million times over
The pain is
so routine
so familiar
so real.
It is recognizable.
Quite.
I have been around a long time.
Though: I am not experienced.
Nor am I inexperienced.
I am not young. I am not grown. I am not old.
I never will be.
I am but a mere soul living in yet another tattered body.
A problem in itself.
But, if I am a soul I will exist forever.
And I am tired.

with life's first breath

the newly born

cries out in fear

for what could be


and at the end


with life's last breath

the dying man

goes out in fear

for what could be

And so the cycle continues

her life is fixed as mine falls apart

it won't be long be fore we switch places...




again

People always say that diamonds are forever.
Well so are Mondays and so are stains,
And other things I'd name if I were more clever.
So I choose the rose to carry through the rains.
For what's more like love than something that dies,
And what's my love for you if not the act
Of washing out the vase and setting it to dry,
And then getting more -- yes, that's the pact --
For nothing's more like love than trying it again.
And today we'll kiss and tomorrow we'll cry,
But when we love again, well, it'll be a new rose then.
For this time you'll have set the vase out to dry,
And I will watch as you carefully make our bed,
And decide that I'd love to make it instead.