A light left when I was young,
And I, wretched, slowly succumbed
To a hollow death, the unhallowed breath;
Trapped in a life which liquor can’t numb.

Some glimpse of a shimmer
Just gold in a river
Washes through hungry fingers
I pray to the salmon
At least

Trivial and tribulations
The hollow of her hearts still shines;
Under moon light dripping sweetly,
Escape from your inclines.

Bastille trumpets a song aloud
To golden fields a maize we carve
Our minds imparting solitude
To hold the lands again we’d starve
So still the moon light pours.

Drizzlin’
The minds' spittle;
Kernals in the kibble,
Eternal yearns little;

Little found inside
This ground, hallowed
Hollow is;

Fallow sound rebounds
Echoes in the resonance;

This breath is;

A Stigma, Isms

i can hear it in the way your voice sounds.

the way you laugh,

the way i can see your smile through the speakers knowing that big heart carries worries and hardships that i will never know.

like quiet refrigerator humming, i can feel the pit of your stomach in mine.

i can see the way the ivy of the ocean spills and rushes around your neck the climbing waters rooting into you.

after the quiet days you will give me a meter and i can feel my heart start running miles, reaching for you,

trying to figure out some way to pick up all of this broken glass so you won’t get cut on the sharp edges.

i’m trying to save this sand that is spilling from my chest into my overflowing hands, so we can build a home together.

trying to bail the water out of the hull of your ship so the salt won’t touch your lips,

because

the ocean is deep and wide and so, so much blue but it isn’t enough to even try
and keep me from you.
i will swim out until im so tired im gasping,

so i can carry you out of the deep, brush the jellyfish from your hair, and whisper to the starfish that have found home in your eyes til they slide away back to their tidepools.

i will kiss the salt away and smother you in fresh water and warm hands to hold.

i know you are sailing in rough waters, the waves beat against my door and it makes me sea sick knowing you’re so far out.

i will turn on the lighthouse and stretch my arms as far as they will go, reaching to pull you back safely to the shoreline,

reaching to bring you home.
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