I have –

Poison in my head.
A heart that is beating
but might as well be dead.

Anxiety ticking through my limbs,
clawing at my throat,
a thousand tiny pins
scratching to spill out.

Rage,
terrible, blinding, impotent.
Cold fury,
I break my bones to contain.

Puny sorrows that rub me raw.
Self-deprecation
that is more self-loathing
than feigned humility.

Amidst all this misery
I do also feel
kindness, joy, compassion.
Wonder, hope, faith
have yet to forsake me.

Let me whisper another confession –
I admit,
I have made playmates of all my demons.

Savage as they are,
I am wilder still.
I haven’t yielded yet
and I never will.

The potted banana tree has borne fruit.
Light, water, fertilizer,
I gave it as needed.
Every day I watched it grow.
Every day it made me happy
to see the potted banana tree
thrive,
and not just survive,
in a place it wasn’t supposed to be.

i only wanted to be quiet for a bit
   my words had become empty of meaning
  by embracing silence i thought i could
   try to get in touch with what i was feeling

  why the emptiness grew deeper roots
   i never really understood the reason
  my heart fell still, my blood ran cold
   i felt more lost with each passing season

You know the feeling
when it is pouring outside
and you are home,
tucked in,
warm and cozy.

You lie in bed,
awake,
listening to the rain
drown everything
in white noise.

You feel the fog lift
from your mind.
Ideas take shape,
building,
till the air is alive
with possibilities.

Yeah…
when that happens,
take my advice –
write it down.
All of it.

Because
if you don’t,
the next day you won’t
remember
any of last night’s
“brilliant” notions.

Silky vanilla custard
(fluffier than clouds)
sweetened ever so slightly,
topped with wafer-thin
layer of hot, crisp
caramel.
Crack!