Sometimes I am sick of being sick. I crawl into the covers and hope tomorrow is a better day. One where my mind won't be so cruel. Yelling insults only I can hear. I wake up only to find. The bully still living in my mind.

if night had a sound it would be a low chatter
the hum of electric cold air
that quietly blows
crisp linen sheets
that speak in the dark
freshly painted walls
that scream in white
television screens
that murmur stories
flickering light posts
that buzz in the night
iridescent cicadas
that hum in the trees
incandescent lovers
that talk in secret
fingers pecking keys
that drum out words
if night had a sound it would be a low chatter

***** sheets
twenty dollar hotel room
she has
fire red hair
stained yellow teeth
reeks of last nights gin
and when she
opens
her legs
I see God

everything
is perfect
we have
nothing to say

I spread my pain like dandelions
in one quick whisper of a breath
no longer will it take from me
I have decided to let go of my slow death
misty-eyed I watch them float
to the green grass below
let the seeds that festered
begin a second growth
as they flower I see
the beauty of letting go

Love-
        I never felt safe until I met your arms and chest.
        In that sacred place, I knew that I was finally home.
        Could lie my head in peace and weep for all the pain
        I've known.

I lit a match
and let it burn
slowly down to
the tip
searing my fingers
just like you
burned
all of your life
in your youth
then disappeared
leaving
me
blistered
©

dear mother
I am the strong
powerful woman I am
despite your weakness
you gave me the mold
I shattered it on the floor
walked out the door
and build an empire
of my own design