Gently, she goes
as soft as a fawn
opens the window
and waits for the dawn
fireflies glow
wind caresses her face
as she sheds all the shadows
not leaving a trace
She dons velvet darkness
wrapped in its cloak
releases all poisons,
                 sylphlike,
             in smoke
She is preparing for battle
in her own, quiet way
She only wants wholeness
as she breaks through the gray
For soon she will weave
prismatic wonders of spells
her own inner aurora
lighting heaven from hell
For suffered she has
and it's time to forgive
unlock self-made prisons
and let herself live
and now as sunrise approaches
stars still in sight
she turns the skeleton key
and glides
into
             flight

ink runs from the corners
of my mouth
there is no happiness
like mine
i been eating poetry

let me tell you about the sunshine girl
cloaked in copious shades of yellow
radiating kindness and hope
from every atom of her being
a single girl who is brighter than the universe in its whole
she has a heart filled with celestial beauty
and hands that carry galaxies
always found on her rooftop
admiring the moon and her stars
or
van gogh's sunflowers
loving that he and she alike
swallowed yellow paint in search for happiness
using the brightness of yellow
to escape the darkness of their minds for awhile
and while you think she's just admiring
the moon
poetry
and paintings
deeply thinking
or daydreaming
she's really waiting for a shooting star
to hear her wish
and take her far, far away from here

What I would give-
To touch your face.

To be in wholesome peace-
Under the hazelnut tree.

Oh, how I wish to live-
In that beautiful place-

Between blissful sleep-
And reality.

You are napping on my lap-
I am playing with your hair.

I am in your speedy trap-
And I couldn’t even care.

Yet, I know you’re not truly mine-
And I am a fool on cloud nine.

I know I cannot change your mind, dear.
Even if you wipe the salty tear.

What I would give-
To touch your face.

To be in wholesome peace-
Under the hazelnut tree.

My death will be liberating.

And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.

No.

I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you

that I do not know what is going
to happen next.

You see,

there is a
fine line
between
dreaming and
mortality

and

I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always
involve

being awake.

And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
nightmares,
hazy realities
and

the hung-over idea

of not being enough.

It is all out of my hands.
                 It is all out of time.

And the only thing I have left to do,
now,


is decide.

she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink

she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.