They say, "good things come if you wait."
I've fallen in love six, seven, eight,
but somehow I find you worth holding the door for
God laughs at my girlish delusions
love is a trap door.

Good things happen
To those
Who are
Inane

The ocean current
With each crests' crash
Flows from me
Inhales,
exhales
A part of me

A symbiotic tide
A rise
And fall
Inside of me

Breathes from me
And takes away
Anxious energy

Have you ever been somewhere
Where alone you feel
As if something,
Someone
Is taking care of you

No physical essence
Just well being
Feeling of nurturing

And in that glimpse of eternity

Something knows you,
Loves you

And like you
Is Free

No one to talk too
My mouth is sore from being shut
My brain spinning with thought
I'd talk to the stars,
Even they didn't show up

The desert skies of royal hazey colors
New grounds for me
For others discovered

Through long plight before me
Spirits endlessly struggling

To bask
Alone
Under the hazey royal indigo
Desert skies

Enlightened wolves
Darkness despise

one day
when the sunlight
stops playing hide and seek
with the clouds

i will set down my worn out pen
and stop scribbling about you
the tears streaming down my cheeks
will not be for your benefit

someday
as the trees
shed their leaves
the color of the summer sunset

my pen's ink will have dried up
and my sappy poems brown at the edges
i have learned to pick myself up
one discolored piece at a time

as the waves
start to calm
and the tides
start to quiet down

i start scribbling
i start scribbling about happiness
about how the stars are all in place
and how i have taped and colored in
my once shattered heart

When I die, dear Mother
don't give my body away
to science.

I'd rather have it given away to poetry.

I want people to cut me open
and observe
how my bones were riddled with
melancholic verses of joyful pasts.

They have to see
the scarlet of my blood was the hue
I stole from the sunsets of
wishful thoughts.

Dear Mother,
give my body away
to the art of writing:
for they have to look past
everything they have ever learned.

They must know
of how much I loved and I lost,
and how that made the twine of my ribs
a story to tell.

Im so delightfully mad
Sometimes
So hindered by sadness

Becoming considerate
In an inconserate world

Wish I could show you where I
Come from
Its no use

For I am the fool
Babbling in the wind
I am the song rushing from the current
Of a dark sea

I wish above all you see the good in me
I hope above all I just insight you to dream

Transparency is my only downfall
I'm a book you're more than welcome
To read

Who cares who I am

I am the fool

Just read me like a book
And dream
Of what may lie
Beyond this dark sea

Stretched out past eternity
Far beyond my madness
Or silly ego
Of man