rain is a veil
that shrouds me
from the world.
the world that hurts and scorns
and says what you are
but not what you wish.
that you want to be
a warm smile
in the yellowed pages of a dusty book,
or the streaks of sunlight that pierces through
a room of gloom,
painting stripes on the whitewashed walls.
yet the rain cannot drown out the sounds
echoing all around
"outsider outsider"
lonely and scabbed over

smoking is bad*
preaches the teacher
as he bites his nails
in anticipation
of his next
cigarette.

momma always said,
the women in our family are strong

the kind of women that are out in the field doin the same back breaking work as the men
the kind of women carryin their own groceries and two babies from the chevy to the back door in one trip
the kind of women who take a backhand from their husband and hit him back hard enough to make his eyes water
the kind of women that bring babies into this world and watch their families fade away like candles flickerin in the wind

momma always said,
the women in our family are strong

so, i don't really have a choice,
i got to be

i miss the feeling
of cigarettes making
me want to throw up

i guess that's the
trade off i get
for whiskey making
my eyes water,
******* burning my
sinuses so bad, i swear,
i'll never snort again,
two glasses of wine making
the next morning feel
like elephants have
invaded the walls of
my skull

i guess i'll take this vice,
for now

There is more romance in a simple coffee stain
than there is in a single bone from my body.

you didn't wish to see me today
and i wilt in shadows.
for you, my sun,
did not embrace me with your rays.

maybe my hands shake because
i've been told settling is wrong,
and my fingers have been kept
in their skin for too long

(if i shed, i'm sure i'll grow wings)

i wish i were
awake enough
to live my life.

if I should die today,
I would die without
ever having been
to China
without having read
Hemingway
with so many things
unseen
undone
still waiting
but knowing
that you love me.
if I should die today
I would be alright;
but if I had a choice
I'd rather die
having been to China
having read Hemingway
having seen your hair
slowly turning grey
having bought a house,
having lived in France,
when I'm nearly a hundred
and in your arms.