301

I reason, Earth is short—
And Anguish—absolute—
And many hurt,
But, what of that?

I reason, we could die—
The best Vitality
Cannot excel Decay,
But, what of that?

I reason, that in Heaven—
Somehow, it will be even—
Some new Equation, given—
But, what of that?

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

this morning i saw the sentence “if she is a goddess then i am no longer godless” and i thought about that a moment; the way our hands press to each other in reverence and how silent prayers leave my lips (and i never knew who they went to, but when i’m alone they ask for your presence and when your fingertips are learning my skin and your tongue becomes a tool for my destruction they go to you, they go to you). they say the body is a temple and if that’s true then i will light every candle and place an offering at your altar and stand in silent awe of your pillars and halls every blessed day. i will sing through every song of praise and dance in joy of the life you give to this world, my world. i never thought i knew much about how to worship but when i tell you i love you and you say it back, when i keep a promise that has lingered between us, when i brush my lips across your cheek or kiss your fingertips, i feel like perhaps i have always known. i have been a faithless wanderer who had no use for religion, but if you were a goddess, i would be a believer.

The clock keeps ticking on,
piercing the shield of my mind.
It ripples through once-calm waters,
always with the threat of the impending hour.
The thirteenth hour,
a chime no one else can hear.
the chime that takes hold of all hopes
dreams, liberties, experiences, and goals,
and throws them all away, engulfing them
in it's shattering sound.
It's the sound of finality,
and it consumes us all, sooner or later.
So don't just sit there and watch the cars pass by.
Chase that thing that you can't afford to lose.
Because when it's all said and done
you'll want to embrace the thirteenth hour,
not perish in it's ever-looming shadow.

Love is you and me staring at each other. Getting lost while gazing upon the inner depths of our soul.

Love is when our tongues meet while our  palms are making love and poetry is just running through our veins

Love is when our bodies make contact like waves clasping to sands, like magic and reality immersing as one.

My enemies hate me for all I stand for, and all I'll someday be.
My acquaintances know my name and recognize it.
My casual friends may not know who I am, but still make life lighter.
My friends are the ones who comfort me when I fail but draw away when I succeed.
My best friends laugh with me about my failures, celebrate my successes, and tell me straight when I'm being a pain in the neck.
My family supports everything I do and are always there, even if I don't want them to be.
And all those in between make life interesting, whether good or bad.

None of that matters unless I say so.

My enemies make me stronger.
My acquaintances give me pride.
My casual friends make me smile.
My friends keep me social.
My best friends warm my heart (and strengthen my patience).
My family is my lifeblood and backbone.
And all those in between, make me who I am.

Thanks to everyone in my life, no matter what you think of me.

Staring at the mirror,
not recognizing who i am
Exasperation in my blood
Indignation in my heart

Debriefing myself wouldnt work
Millions of disparate dots
Refuting everything i believed in
Reverencing my thoughts

Living in an inferno of darkness,
Searching for happiness
Trying to be convivial in,
The clutter of melancholy


Nix spirit,mettle,temperament
With fried skull,cold feet
Staring at the mirror,
not recognizing who i am.

I locked myself out of the apartment,
so I find myself sitting in the stairwell.
The same place you left me days ago.
Weeks ago.
Months ago.
The air is a little warmer but it still bites
wintry and frigid like your teeth on my neck
when you were biting back the screams I made you
scream.