.............

I guess you just never know
when it is going to happen
one day here, bright blue skies
cool breezes and then ****, gone

What were the thoughts, those thoughts
things you were planning on saying
when the time was right
It was never right, or was it

In a flash, self promises become regrets
wishes end and dreams disappear
if those things still exist
when you don’t

And what is the next step
crying for all of those things
or nothing becomes your world
and the darkness is darker

Free-falling, wondering
if what is left behind cares
probably not, you aren’t and never were
and never will be again

It comes, when you least expect it
You go, when you least expect it
So, expect it……………..

.

I’m usually sad when it rains

and as I walk today

all alone

feeling it hit
my shoulders

like so many tear drops

I understand why

This burning golden sun
Will move its haze to the south
Your cherry covered dress
Pressed among the years hidden in the wardrobe
Flesh warmed in its nakedness
Becomes a covered mystery
Lift your feet from the ground
For the footprints in the snow
Will cool your bare feet

She doesn't have to be your mother
For you to not call her a ***** for not doing what you want.
She doesn't have to be your sister
For you to not call her a ***** for having *** even once.
She doesn't have to be your daughter
For you to expect boys to respect her as a person.
"What if she was your mother/daughter/sister?"
Shouldn't be a valid question.
It shouldn't be a question that makes you stop and think,
"That's true, I need to treat women like I'd treat my female family members."
As though it's given you the epiphany
That even women you don't know are entitled to decency.
And if that question is what made you change your ways,
Get rid of the notion that women can only be treated to
The same amount of basic respect as men
If you can imagine your mother's/sister's/daughter's face staring back.

All strung
out
       on
sadness,
empty shells
of needles
      that injected
the next defense
      to keep me going
splayed upon
the coldness
            of metal
somewhere in a place
lower than
the floorboards
of the nether regions
of a private hell,
where no one sees
      the truth behind
the doors of
           beaten swords
of silken pictures
in frothy shades
of effervescent green
a smiling happy family
in which the
sounds of drowning
can only be
             vaguely heard
a faded gurgle
       in an ocean of sighs

Somewhere, there,
the pain in my veins
spreads like
a self-administered
                       drug
only it's not
my prescription, at all
just a parody
from the very
    sick doctor
who shares
          this house,
meant to
be a home
one who thinks
he knows it all
but knows nothing

In this dreamlike weaving
of staring blankly
into alternative spaces
when all is so heavy
that even breathing is a task
I suddenly remember
   who the **** I am
and push my gaze through
the ceiling cracks
to look up at
         the stars,
receiving their
            shadows
           of light
      like a blessing
   upon my
   nettle-stung
    tongue
and
       rise