I think the walls are judging me
I'm starting to hear murmurs
Murmuring "We seen the things you've done"
Since I was 4 years old to 17 years young
They know things about me
Things you wouldn't even tell a soulmate
The walls have been watching me
They murmur how they saw me laughing my heart out, crying rivers and oceans, even spilling puddles of blood
These walls have seen it all and now they want to judge?!
I trusted these walls with dark secrets...
God don't let them tell my secrets
Please don't let people hear them murmuring

often I think i can force the words from my throat
push past the floodgates and fix this drought
but they stick behind my teeth
breathed out - rearranged, changed - back in.
the hollow of my throat holds a thousand tragedies,
a thousand miracles, it births thoughts like colliding stars
and yet they will crawl around my mouth, humming,
a lungful of bees that sting and sting and sting
my thesaurus brain cannot find the right mixture
of vowels and consonants and breaks in sentences
to give justice to what blossoms within me
they say silence speaks volumes
and I have been shouting mutedly all my life.

you are an ancient oak tree
an old soul, silently standing vigil
over my balcony.
your branches shade me
as i ponder the intricacies
of the cosmos, limbs outstretched
in a complex web of leaves
embracing unanswered mysteries.

moonbeams peel back the branches to peer
down at you, white light dancing like phantoms
on your skin, desperate to heal
the bits of you cut  
and marred by calloused hands.
one day i'll kiss your scars like the moon
and feel the heat of your bark
pressing warm against my form.

your presence steals the toxins
from the air i inhale, steeling me,
harvesting CO2
and producing oxygen.
i want to breathe deep,
fill my lungs with your fragrance,
a heady high, lost
in an aura of hot pink.

as a chorus of crickets
deign to sing just for us—
the only audience still up
at half past 1:00
in the morning—
i treasure the way your mahogany irises
continually brighten when you look at me.
a symbiosis simultaneously saving both of us.

Feel the snow beneath your feet

As every light goes out

No more pulse, no more pain

Only cold

Eternal peace

There's this dance they do in Washington
whenever Debt's head rears..
It's called the "Fiscal Chicken"
They've performed it now for years.
With a Jiggle to the Right
and a wobble to the left
They kick the can on down the road
I can't say that I'm impressed.
The rotund in the Rotunda
Scream and shout and hop about.
Some claim that they will hold the line
deceiving the devout.
Don't let their moves distract you-
We all know whose Ox gets gored-
As Mister Ryan postures
and as the Donald roars.
If we manage somehow to save
they want it in their paws.
Like inebriated White men
They flail and shake their rears
The only moves they have result
from drinking too much beer..

everything looks different

now that i see you

i'm erasing myself from the narrative

I still remember our prime time
More laughter than tears
More discussion than ignorance
Everything seemed to be perfect.
Now everything has turned upside down
No more joys, no more good laugh
Shedding tears, ended up good fight.
And our prime time, has come to an end.