tonight, darkness engulfs,
as it usually does.
the sun hides its shame behind the light of the moon,
only to rise with renewed power in the morning.

i find myself wishing i could speak to the sun.

if i could,
i'd ask it to stay down,
to linger in its dormancy,
to grant me the luscious solitude of the night
for just a little while longer.

because for once i am okay.

for once, i find my mind quiet --
knowing all the things that are painful to know,
and yet not holding too tight to them.

and i enjoy it,
this silence -- of mind and of world.
but i am not naive,
and i know that the sun will not spare me,
will not spare anyone,
nor will it give so much as a whisper
in response to all my feeble wishes.

so for tonight,
all i have is tonight.

all i have are the few sunken hours before dawn
when i can be at least somewhat free --
freer than i've been for a long while.

and that, though momentary,
is enough.

(a.m.)

T'was bliss yet also pain, it tingled and it pricked. Oh truly a wild rose blossoming atop the mountain's peak. Beautiful yet deadly, desirable yet unattainable; a true fantasy

More blood drawn for no apparent reason.
Things may be okay, but I am not.
My body will be my canvas, that nobody will see.
My scars will be a masterpiece, but only in my dreams.
I want the pain.
Or is it pleasure?
Since I get so much joy from the crimson blood forming on my thigh.
I am a *******.
I want it, I need it.

What if sound was robbed,
Held at gunpoint
And smuggled away
From me
Into a duffel of contraband.

What if songs became nothing?
What would I
Do? As the bus
Bounces up and down,
When the sun hasn't
Yet stolen it's kiss.
The window yields
Bland scene
And I would recognize
The silence
In the detestful
Way I do
When I forget the wires.

What if his voice
Was gone?
Could I remember it?
Could I fill in sound as his
Lips moved,
God
All I'd ever see
Would be lips.
And I don't like mouths as it is.
But maybe
They'd be my new wires
And my eyes would follow
Their parted
Movements, enamored.

What if instructions were silenced
And I was left to guess at
What to do?
Emergency situation
Stealing my life away
Because I couldn't hear
Anything about
The oxygen supply
Above my head.

I'd perish in silence.

Would I speak?
Or only write?
Would I feel heard
If I could barely fathom listening?

Recently, I often find myself feeling small
I know “small” isn't a legitimate emotion but when you live in a city of 825,863 people
And attend a university of 30,500 other kids
Who stumble and still manage to fake the answers to
Why why why
Where where where
How why where when when when
When your best friend lets The City change her into a stranger in a skin-tight dress at a club
And your boyfriend throws excuses like rocks at your naked body
And your closest friends are these words running across the page
Faster and faster and faster until these letters bleed and run and you don’t know what they mean anymore,
You start to feel small too.
Shrinking and shrinking and shrinking and shrinking and shrinking and constantly shrinking
Until you are the tiniest dot on a map in their hearts and flushed through their veins and spat out like a bad taste in their throats.

Every time
you unleash your monster
I do as well.

I told God,
"Write a poem please."
he looked down,
pointed at me.
"I already did."