once I was a child
but I was never innocent
because when my father told me he loved me
he did it with a leather belt
and a buckle that gleamed
each time it struck my already knowing body
pounding out years of masculine entitlement
I knew there were words he had heard his whole life
and in my blistered skin lied the understanding
women are less
best when subservient and quiet
so quiet I was
while I buried my head in freshly washed soft sheets
and tried to forget that this person
who hated me so well
also soothed me to sleep
told me I was beautiful
and that I could do anything
so quiet I was
he couldn't hear me scream
scream for the pain
scream for the mother who wasn't opening the door
to come rescue me
once I was a child
but I was never innocent

tight necked
tension held in hardened jaws
invisible hands clasp around throat
years of unspoken words

fingers slide swiftly
endless rhythmic finger pecks
bright screen burning
in dark bedroom corners

letters flow like a faucet
freedom found in syllables
assemble emotion in verse
paper giving a voice

my
skin
slowly
relaxes

in the dry yellow rolling hills of wine county
where crickets and cicada sing
sweat and memories guided new creation
a place for her spirit to rest
all gathered on homemade pews
strong stones and brilliant quartz the focal point
through cracked voices, stories erupted
they filled tin buckets with their grief
listened to the sound hit the bottom so softly
found a whisper of rhythm
linked arms and danced with sorrow
in a place of peaceful remembrance
those moments her nymph spirit was holding all there
she was the sky full of stars on that dark night
the electric energy in the air
with hands clasp tight
a united silence for the
celebration of her life
and a painful goodbye

Put on your music, dance alone.
No one is watching let it all go.
Free yourself.
mind, body, spirit one.

Lick the Bag
I breathe white powder like you breathe air
inhale its recklessness
heart attack speed racer

black pupils dilate
electric skin
follow lines to paradise

scattered conversation
shifting eyes
late night carnival ride

stranger passed out on the bathroom floor
rolled up bills scattered on the counter
laced with last nights bad decisions

empty square plastic bags
lick the corners
savor the taste of addiction

-somedays the voices in my head are shouting so loud I can't hear anything else.

Enough
-the cruelest of all words when spoken in silence to an empty room