It's fascinating That I keep coming back here. When my heart breaks And the darkness seeps in, When there seems to be No one to talk to I come here And I talk to myself. I let strangers read the words That no one can hear. Even when they spill out of my mouth. I come back to connect With my true nature And to those, I dont even know their names. So...I think I'll always be here. So I can always be free.
I do not use my words I do not use my emotions I do not use my self-control I do not use my eyes I do not use my ears I do not use my mouth I do not use my tears
I use my hands I use shiny metal I use my impulse I use my intuition I use my brain I use flashy silver I use bandages I use antibiotic I use my pain I use glass I use scissors
Maybe she's still there when the tide rises foraging in the river dreaming in half moon they meet their fate floating into her net.
With the tide ebbing maybe she's still hugging the shore praying for a little more till the stars blink weary waiting for her to go home.
Is she still there her skin smeared with mud stalking like a night heron silhouetted against the skylight her feet kissing the riverbed her bed lonely and cold.
I wonder why for me she's so mysterious a predator in the river a foresaker of life for the life of her brewing a love deeper than I've ever known.