the summer wind
whispered
her name
as if to set her free
one with the oceanic hymns
a scenic route to paradise
and so she went
away with
the summer wind

she told us of her conversations
With all the stars
And constellations
how they taught her how to dance
And so
She showed them how to sing
Soundless however
So marvelous
And with the moon they pray
For a place so perfect
And for the girl
Who dances through the streets
To the music only she can hear

Every bone in my body aches.
Dark thoughts flood my mind.
Caressing my brain.
With suicidal thoughts.
Never ending mood swings.
Destruction.
Mutilation.
Trails of blood from the sink.
Tear filled memories.
End it all for me.
Pull the trigger.
Let me be.

I want to help myself realize
why i fell in love with you
so I decided to make a mixtape
of all of your favorite songs
and replay it in in the car
over
and
over
I could taste your lips
by the third track,
and I could feel your skin,
by the fourth
but I wanted you here
at the first song.

lucky to be alive
when guns are"for protection"
lucky to be alive
when people are nearly dying of starvation
lucky to be alive 
when natural resources means risk of invasion
lucky to be alive 
with no money but education
lucky to be alive
in a civilised nation

you knocked on my door,
for i was your home.
the one you grew up in,
but grew out of.
you drank lemonade
on the porch of me,
hung christmas lights
on my gutters,
making the ugliest parts shine
just once a year.
but you never did plant a tree
to give me shade
or put on a new layer of paint
to patch me up.
you did nothing so permanent,
only putting band-aids
on my leaky pipes.
soon enough,
my basement was flooding,
my front door creaking,
and stairs falling through.
you knew i was a fixer upper,
but why fix me up
when you can break me down.
now my halls are littered with brown boxes,
and your key lay on the counter.
"it's a buyer's market," you had said,
before selling me for less than i was worth.

I just woke from experiencing what it felt to be free
of a doctrine, of this overlying immense pressure to be righteous and respectful,
that which I've inherited from my own expectations and from those of whom I admire.
I had been touched by something even bigger than my own self perseverance-
than my connections between "the wise,"
than my science that I hold so dear.
It's almost indescribable- so bear with me
as I dig through my consciousness for a dream that could just be a great answer to our confusions.
I felt myself sifting through a softened solid
that was smooth and sunset-hued.
It stretched around me but went through me all the same.
It was warm but refreshing.
It cleared away the dichotomies, the questions, the labels into a vast spaciousness that couldn't ever make me feel loneliness because in this clear space,
there was you.
In a raw form- without explanations, without excuses, without fear,
without the taste of another on your lips,
without the pressure to exist.
Just you, and your experience floating around and through you,
in the most beautiful colors I've ever seen you don.
It was just you, and it was just me,
in soft solids of insight.
When I stepped forward, I saw your life around you,
not my interpretation riddled with negative and positive energies,
but the sights and sounds that created an indefinite understanding.
With the sunsets swimming around them.
As I got closer I began to notice my own life,
spirits of the past grazing my skin gently
and gingerly.
And when we finally were face to face,
in what might be nano-seconds
our eyes were not expectations but one,
our lips were not provocations but one,
our bodies were not vehicles but one.
And it felt comfortably fluid as we walked together in something I can only liken to acceptance.
It was fleeting, however.
I was pulled out of this by the hands of 3 AM on a Tuesday, my disappearing fever,
and desire to relieve myself from all of the water I consumed before bedtime.
The lingering feeling of insight and acceptance urged me to write,
and expel the overwhelming emotion of wishing I never woke up.
I couldn't stop sobbing
and I hadn't a clue why.
I guess it was because in this dream
I came to know
the world is crumbling around us
and all we can see are the demands and the means to be something other than oneness.
We choose be chained by these requirements,
because living in this world is not the safety of the amniotic sac that we leave behind in the past.
We should know that we could relive that every time we create something we strongly believe doesn't have to last.
I'm not sure who I've lost,
or what I've found-
but I can hope
it's knowing that we may not ever precisely touch what love is despite how much we try to render it through words
and actions,
a definitive language that gives us its tangibility.
But it can touch us.
It can touch us into being one again,
if we put our lives on pause,
It can touch us if we let it.

When honesty feels like your organs are exposed-
blood is slipping out numbed wounds and it's embarrassing,
then maybe at that point, it's not just honesty.
Maybe it's a blatant self-sacrifice, like a look-at-me
look-at-my-love-for you confession,
or even an I-can-rip-my-own-skin-off-
and-show-you-what's-inside plea.
Believe you me.
You'll be a Prometheus punished daily
by reiterating the truth over and over,
only to grow a new skin overnight,
before you ever lie again.
And that honest self-sacrifice should not
be for someone unworthy.
It's a truth meant to be seen by someone
with merit.
Who wouldn't take your exposure
place it over the fire for far too short a time,
and complain while they eat it up.
The right people are hard to come by-
because real honesty is barely clean,
and rarely meant to be eaten raw.
Self-sacrifice isn't light,
isn't always healthy,
and may leave you with a sick stomach.
But if the right person sees it,
they'll stitch you back up,
drink only your tears until
you have empty eyes,
and hold you and your secrets in,
like the sweetest child they could ever love.
Stop ripping yourself open
to people who can't deal with blood,
especially yours.