Bottle of ***,
rock me to sleep,
make me feel numb,
so I don't make a peep.
Let them all see,
the river run red,
what I've done to me,
All the things that I said

No one to blame,
end of the line,
close to the game,
the fault is all mine.
I made a mistake,
one was too many,
I heard my heart break,
like I'd never had any.

Now rock me to sleep
so I don't cause more harm
Let the bed bugs creep
from leg to arm
I swear I won't scream
I promise not to cry
though it may not seem
My eyes have run dry.

Thou wouldst be loved?—then let thy heart
  From its present pathway part not;
Being everything which now thou art,
  Be nothing which thou art not.
So with the world thy gentle ways,
  Thy grace, thy more than beauty,
Shall be an endless theme of praise.
  And love a simple duty.

I am a walking glass
Transparent
An overflowing rim
I hope it’s not too apparent

Don’t tip me
I might just spill
Was it one drink or three?
I’ve drunk my fill

I’m your whiskey girl
Bubbling over
A sequined, beaded twirl
another lover

My body is present
Yet my mind is not
Off somewhere else
Out in the world
Anywhere I want
Free from the rules
And all the eyes
I am all alone
And truly alive

We pursue happiness constantly
Bliss more desired than gold

But we are merely chasing a daydream
To a place that here does not exist

We also have a higher calling
We were made for more

To stand and fight for truth and justice
And born to mourn all is not well

For the devastation all around
Should not go unnoticed

This blindness would mock the majestic earth
For beauty is shattered, merely a shadow

So let us weep at all is broken
For we were not made merely to laugh

But also to know there is more.

(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)

Lover sitting on the shower floor
spits at the drain,
watches it circle away between his feet.

I tell him to close his eyes
as I point the spray at his hair,
pull out the caked-dirt tangles.

I scrub at his back until it's red and raw,
and a thin trickle of blood
from a pimple or an ingrown hair
dances down the steps of his spine.

I could bathe him
in all the world's finest oils,
until the cacophony of fragrances
made my head spin
and he would still tell me that
I missed a spot.

Wrapped in a towel,
he asks me why I
do the things I do.

I say nothing,
and wipe a speck of grime
from his wet, swollen cheek.

as a child, i was more of a
hide-and-seek kind of girl;
i had no mind for playing
pretend.  

yet here i am now, and these
past three months have been
my greatest show yet--

but ****,

               where
      have
                                 you
                                             gone?

because i've been seeking for too long,
and i can't find you anywhere.