Lies in a bath tub,
filled to the brink.
He has tried to go under,
He has tried to sink.

He maneuvers his fingers slowly,
To the edge of the blade.
His goal is to only,
Make the memories fade.

But not much will change,
The more he will suffer.
Lets try again?
One cut after another.

Warm blooded,
The water turns red.
He is still alive,
He is not dead.

His hope is religion,
His strength he must trust.
Take all the bad memories,
Turn then to dust...

there are two types of girls,
or so I was told:
church girls and
bad girls, and my mother
said this with such finality it was
clear they were mutually exclusive.

of course,
you know this is
Not True;
you once characterized yourself as
"the type of 'church girl' to light a
blunt in the bathroom (just sayin)" and
that single quote says more about you than
all this fragile wording, this silica dust
heated and wrought into intricacies and
metaphor and conceit.
You
are far more than
a bad girl,
are far more than
a church girl,
will never be
my girl
and this is how it should be.
you are not
to be domesticated
a la Robin Thicke; you are
uncontrollable, your lust and
disdain for monogamy
twin hurricanes, destroying
New Orleans in a heartbeat and
rendering FEMA
impotent in the next.

there are two types of girls:
other girls, and
You.

my name is christian
my religion and my name

I lay on my back, absorbing the pressures
Of the rocks beneath me, I breathe.
Eyelids resting on now blind eyes, I feel.
I stretch out as high as possible and hold it...
Allowing each fingertip to tingle, arms fall.
A rush of blood and my eyes snap open,
I see colours never known to man,
Unpaintable by all extremes.
Now, I sit cross-legged
Rocking as the wind sways.
The small clearing expands, opening up,
I see more now than two 1800's explorers
Ever did as they searched the world for forgiveness.
Looking up, it has grown dark
A deep blue, a deep grey.
It proceeds to rain, closing my eyes,
I open my mouth as if to speak...
The taste of wilderness rushes in.
Heavier, precipitation grows,
Heavier and birds begin to scream,
Landing at my sides, eyelids open...
I remain still. Screaming songs so intense,
The birds, they start to dance.
A pair with the tango,
Three with the jive,
I smile... I'm alive.
Beckoning me to join...
We danced all night.

Inspired by Divergent

The three birds,
Watch them fly away.
From the pages of the books,
Which almost lead them astray.

The Three Birds,
Soar through the sky.
Only to arrive,
In the blink of an eye.

The Three Birds,
Now circle around a girl..
They swoop down quickly,
Then unfurl.

The Three Birds,
Now rest upon her collar.
Resembling the girl's,
Brother, Mother and Father.