i've turned into a wild mountain woman,
conquering peaks and balancing in poses
on a cliff's edge. my strength is my
greatest gift, my solitude, my greatest joy.
the trees and breeze my only loves
until you stumbled upon my worn dirt path.

learning to love myself through the one i choose to love

with each step along the shores of my
pristine, clear heaven I can feel your
breath in sync with mine, the trees
sway and question the heavy footfalls
alongside my short strides, and my mind no
longer lingers on each leaf, petal,
sound, no, instead it's your eyes i picture
when i inhale deeply and close mine.

learning to love myself through the one i choose to love

to share this moment, this magic
where my roots find home in a place
that i'm beginning to realize that i've
always known, the glassy water reflects
how well you fit right by my side, and
my heart whispers, "go ahead, dive."

learning to love myself through the one i choose to love

i know it's not
really my problem,
but it still *******
****** me off

your carelessness,
your selfishness,
your unending
appetite for
something i don't
even want
around me,
that's what
******* ******
me off

reel it the **** in,
man up, grow up,
get it together,
let go of what
holds you back,
then, call me

the reporters kept going on and on
about how shocked they were that
the cold had come after the hottest
summer on record- didn't they
know that nothing lasts forever?

i refused to put shoes on, which
didn't matter much since i wasn't
making it out of bed most days

saving you was ruining me, and
then like magic- ****! you were
gone, but the smell of your decay
stuck to my skin like the smell
of your american spirits

i drew out the demons slowly,
agonizing over each lost smoke-
wanting to really feel the
**** i scraped off of my insides

i kept picturing you, shaking
because your body couldn't live
without 7&7's - christ, who had
you become? still, your eyes were
the same, but the look you gave
me had changed, and maybe my
eyes told a different story now too

i sang sad songs to the mountains
as the sun went to sleep, tears
came one at a time, but the silence
was deafening

time spent staring at nothing as
i traveled elsewhere in memories,
whether they were real or dreams
i still can't be sure

i looked back at myself and read,
"i remember when i was lost and
confused." how ironic and presumptuous
i had been, how little i had understood
about life, about how change happens-
through acute, exhausting, and
harrowing pain

i thought that i could give away pieces
of myself and still remain living,
but scooping your soul out
is so much easier than filling it

this place is masterful
in the art of illusions

one minute the walls
are closing in, and the
next the doors are all
locked and there are
no windows from
which you could
leap to safer ground

i stand in the kitchen
and try to be helpful,
but when washing
sharp knives i have
thoughts that i can't
even write down

there is a man in
the living room, but
he mimics a robot,
spending his days
repeating and repenting,
trying to lure us
into the fold

i feel alone amongst
eight, like everyone
looks through me,
misunderstands my words,
forgets my intentions

fading into corners
and under floorboards,
soon, i will be a ghost

suicide has a way of leaving a wake of potential saviors behind it

the kind of folks who've got all the right words and silent holding of space
who've been through it too and are happy to sit in solidarity for as long as it takes
the humans who know how to create connections to the right resources and have unlimited time to sit in the muck

i wish i didn't cut you out, like a child with wild rounded edged scissors chopping her best friend out of the portrait she drew of the last time they climbed up that big hill together

i can feel your spirit bouncing around the universe still, unsure and free, just as you should have been here

the echoes of loss are always painful, but this one is strange and different, this one will whisper me to sleep until i don't wake up

when I smoke cigarettes
I curse them, not myself

I'm sober,
what excuse do I have?

other than the growing sense
that my sky is perpetually falling

my therapist says
I should try breathing

i dream of bad things
and when i open my eyes
they swirl around in my brain
like a cocktail being stirred
slowly my brian is poisoned
by these strange feelings i've got
and the rest of my day is tainted
by memories that aren't memories at all

i try to believe
that everything's got meaning
but sometimes i wonder
if i believe too much

you stood there in a dream
and then we ran from something
in an old house
that i didn't know
i tried to kiss your cheek
and i couldn't reach

i search for meaning
in everything
i wonder if maybe
there is none

a life without meaning isn't life, right?
at least that's what i've repeated to myself
so many times that i feel
as if those words are etched
on the inside of my skull
so that when i close my eyes for sleep
that's the last thing i see

grappling with the idea of life
who i am, who i'm meant to be, who i've been, who i will be

the answer is always there,
playing like a psa
through the loud speakers in my mind -
you are in control,
you are a part of it all,
but without constant and
conscious effort,
true self cannot be realized

freedom is such a simple concept,
but a reality that is lived by few

we watched an airplane
eat a man alive
and as his body caused
the cylinder to explode
i couldn't help but laugh
because that's what i do at times
when i'm not sure how else to react

and as you laid your head on my lap
i knew that you wanted to kiss me
but i couldn't look away
from the ****** scene in front of me

you took my face in your hands
and when your lips met mine
it felt as if old friends were
embracing after years on the road

and when we ****** in your bed
i couldn't help but laugh
and i was surprised by the fact
that you liked being bit
but i didn't mind delving into
your skin with my teeth

three hours later and i'm still
messed up and you're still
making me wet
and the sun's coming up
and i'm not ready to let go
but it's time we go to bed

sometimes the cathartic ways of my slumber
invade the way that i walk this earth,
this morning i felt a cold trigger sit on
my warm *** as i moved 400 ks of coke in two hours

you said we should ban guns in dreams,
i said psyches deserve safe rest

the truth is that i liked being a boss
the feeling of that pistol in my hand was strange,
but the weight of a life seemed even more stagnant
as i laid there and lost myself in the life of a dealer

rest will never truly be rest for me,
but i have the luxury of dreams that will never die

sometimes i look at the clock
and then i'll look again and
it seems that time has jumped

i wonder where it goes
and i feel sad

sad that i can't keep tabs on my minutes
sad that i'm unsure what i've spent the time doing
sad that those are wasted minutes that i'll never get back
sad that my life has become so obsolete and unlike my own

i used to take great pride and joy
in the fact that my time
was used doing things that
were important

now i have no idea
what important is

i'm not sure i ever knew

tonight i count the ties
that keep me coming back
to this point, this place

i realize rope is just that, rope,
and it's my choice whether
i cut it or hold on

the slack loosens it's grip
and freedom unfurls that's
been between my fingertips all along

destiny discusses destination
with me as i sleep and keep
a mind that's as open as blue skies

i wake and sit heavy
in happiness, in understanding,
in self-propelled evolution

i hold myself and finally feel
pride for the strength i've used
to lift myself up time and time again

today i woke and found what was lost
a day of hurt, a day of cost
a look in the mirror reveals what's known
i am the only place where i find home

i control this lonesome land
with naught but a pence thrown in my hand
but still control belongs to me
which should convince me that i am free

a drive of doubt fuels me forward
though my heels dig in, i move onward
a flash of what i know to be the past
despite my desire does not last

i take my hands and hold my head
without self control i'm better off dead
muscle memory moves me on
finding solace in the promise of a new dawn

i know that when my eyelids part tomorrow
there will be less of this god awful sorrow
but for now i'll allow myself to sink a bit
mondays really are nothing but ****

on the eve of the night
when white people in this country
pretend to give a **** about the oppressed,
we watched puppets put a show on
for all of the fools too ignorant
to really open their eyes and see
the strings that pull at their sleeves

hillary took her sharp stick
and jabbed bernie again and again,
who smiled with graciousness
at each poke because his road
is the high one and people like hillary
need to be half villain in order
to fulfill their desperate attempts
for the young people's vote

o'malley was like dust under
six layers of worn out carpets
hidden under newly installed
hardwoods making the carpet's
entire existence completely void
to the outside world

ah, oh right - o'malley tried,
but that's all i can tell you about him

at some point we smoked a
baseball shaped spliff rolled with
three joint papers and i couldn't
help but watch them all and feel
the bile in my stomach wish for
escape, the idea that an old
jewish dude probably knows
what's best for my future is
an interesting one

lately there is a storm brewing
beneath my skin, deeper than
my bones, right in the very pit
of my soul, and i can feel within
it a great and forceful change

i think my body mirrors this earth,
this universe, this time, and i'm
waiting with baited breath for
the next great shift

tonight i'll lay in bed
and as my mind drifts
my forehead will open
and through layers of
brain, skull, and skin
will emerge a lens

upon my ceiling
a memory will project
of you taking my hands
and making me dance
while smiles lifted
our lips and took
control of our
desperate hips

i'll watch from the
outside while others
wish they could have
what we don't even
know that we have

i'll watch you look
at me the way that
you do and how
i must stand on the
tips of my toes to taste
the lips that i long for

i'll drift off to dream
of those hands that
hold mine and find
moments within madness
to make me swing,
smile, and slip
back into a place
where i found love

i am a hoarder of memories and monuments,
and lately i'm beginning to discover
i do the same with dreams

when i lay my head on the pillow at night
and enter the fitful in between
i often have 7 or 8 drifting through,
and the same affliction seems
to follow throughout my walking daze

i've always operated under the notion
that you're supposed to follow your dreams,
but the problem is this seems to ignite
a series of battles within that i like to
call the "this or thats"

to dive head first into this or that,
to give myself fully to this or that,
to let my passions lay with this or that,
this or that, this or that, THIS OR THAT

i wish that i had a telescope in my hands,
i would take it and shove it right into
the very center of my soul,
and i would lean forward and peek through
that eyehole and see the universe within,
after all,

we are all the moon and the stars

you see, i've lived a life so long in fear,
hands clasped over eyelids regardless
of whether the lights are turned on or off,
and now i must learn to pry each fingertip
loose, and with each digit dislodged
comes a lesson learned

i am proud to announce that with the
first came,

i am the moon and the stars

i fell in love to the sounds
of the sky falling down,
but the reflection of
the earth destructing
in your eyes
didn't bother me one bit

we laid there, holding one another,
knowing that we wouldn't
see this through,
that love couldn't conquer death,
but still, smiles and sighs
of utter satisfaction
lingered on swollen lips

urges of fight or flight
disappeared with each breath,
defined with depth
and even tempo, as we explored
the places we had pondered,
but never navigated before

i drowned in your arms,
and the panic caused by
the pressure on my lungs
never did come

love, the most powerful drug,
had made me numb,
and if i had to say good bye
for eternity, bare legs
tangled in fresh sheets,
wild curls on whale pillowcases,
hands holding hopeful hearts,
was the only way
i wanted to go

i wish i didn't give a ****, that you
want me just for my ***,
pretending to want to know me
just so you can **** me fast

i wish i didn't give a ****, that it's
easy to fall for fraud,
that trusting and allowing love in
makes me the classic, idiot broad

i wish i didn't give a ****, that
you touched me when i was asleep,
that i woke up with your hands
on me and i felt like the creep

i wish i didn't give a ****, that people
will feel real ******* bad,
but the truth is no matter how many
times, it's never the right amount of sad

i wish i didn't give a ****, but the
fact remains, i do
and i won't stop giving a ****
until you finally give a ****, too

i've got a bad case of the bends, baby
can't keep my frame up straight
if i'm not dancing, then i'm slumping
might as well lay myself down to rest

that night we fumbled, formed new foundations
separate was better in this case

a man i barely knew found more in my eyes
than i have in years, a silent strength, he
knew it well, but search he must behind
the silent and sly sadness that simply cannot
slip through fingertips that know just what to seek

since then i've thought long and hard about
just what sadness means, how the heart walks
itself out to a field full of dreams laid down to die,
faint last breaths echo amidst the sunny bliss,
but i've decided to take that heart and throw it up high,
into the blues, the bends that reach towards the sky

i've spent my life channelling
my anger because the people
around me never accept
the words that i need to say

i am a selfish slob who knows
nothing, forever, i am a child
with a messy bedroom, a *****
who just doesn't know when
to stop, a crazed woman with
too many emotions, a drama
queen spinning out of control,
a brat with bad intentions

i know who i am - it has taken
strange and twisted roads to know
the face that stares back at me
in the mirror - but i do know her

i do not wish for anyone else
to know her if the knowing does
not come naturally, if it is forced
and unpleasant, then i would
rather be alone with her

for me, the knowing is all that
i have ever wanted or needed,
the most honest relationship
i have ever had is with myself

chaos is overwhelming, innate, a perfect picture of what i've become
i live within it, no, i thrive within it,
pushing myself to levels i probably didn't need to reach,
but here i find myself, and often,
i'm alone

i wonder about what it all means, the pushing and the pulling,
the wanting and the nothingness, how i can wake up in love
and by nightfall all i want is to curl up inside of myself

there are moments when you're inescapable, but i'm
beginning to wonder if you've know about my evasion
from the start and have gotten too good at pretending

i wish i could be the woman i am sometimes, the one
that sees you for who you are and understands that
we all progress at a pace the stars decided lifetimes ago

instead i mirror my own destruction upon you, perhaps
because i see the chaos looking out at me from your
eyes that still seem young, and are nothing at all like my own

i am afraid -

i am aware of the constructs that i have created within my cerebrum, but still,
i am afraid

i dwell within possibility and i drown within pessimism, persistent prodding tells me,
you're not ready,
you're not able,
you're just you

within morning comes the mourning of every moment i've misplaced,
the dreams that detonate day after day as i don't dive deeper,
the wistful wanting for wayward worship of words that have lost their weight

i admonish myself with apologies as august replays again and again,
the shell of you sits there and sings songs of sobriety and sojourned slumber,
and i find freedom in the fact that i find myself finite in my finale- finally alone

it's not the truth that brings terror, it's the tired tongue that trembles,
the loss of lunacy and the latching onto looming, languishing logistics,
the halt of the hum that once helped me to heave myself towards hope

you are no one,
you are everyone,
you are whoever you want to be,
the words that imprison me illuminate an interest in introspective idealism

i am afraid,
but still, exposed, enamored, and enraged, nothing stops emancipation, not even -

i am afraid

remember the time
i lost my mind back
in college?

lauran had to drive
up and get me
because i couldn't
trust myself to be
behind the wheel

you didn't know me
yet, but you walked
me around campus
to look at the art

you were always
comforting

when i got home
i was put on meds
and back to school
i went, but something
inside of me was
empty, like someone
had been stealing
scoops of my soul
while i was passed
out after my nights of
drinking *****
from water bottles

i remember the terror
i felt while i called
my parent's cell phones
and the house again,
and again, and again,
but no one answered,
it was 2 in the morning,
and i was convinced
that i would cry myself
to death in that empty
common room

sometimes i still feel
as if i could cry myself
to death, even though
i won't allow it, and i
don't always want to
drive because i know
that i'm not to be
trusted behind the wheel,
and there are times when
i feel like i am calling,
and calling, and calling,
but there's nobody home
because home doesn't
exist anymore

isn't that a strange thought?
there is no such thing
as home

i'm everything i already knew that i was. a strong woman, with convictions that wilt like flowers that aren't meant for the 90 degree weeks we've been getting here in april. we sit around and fan ourselves with half thoughts, and you pretend that my sweat is the sweetest elixir to ever pass your lips. you make me sick with the way you look at me, but for a long time i can't stop trying to memorize the exact color of the water or the sky your eyes are. when i finally realize why, i'm taking myself in, dizzied by the likeness between her and i, and my mind, it keeps glitching as you and he run together. i'm confused at first, uncertain, but then i realize this is my subconscious speaking, the universe cross firing my faulty wiring to wake me up. you've given enough to everyone else, and i know you won't stop, but in this way it must end now. find a way to love yourself through the one you choose to love.

it seems the closer i get to my dreams
the less gravity pulls me towards reality

i wake each morning nose to nose with myself
floating above my still sleeping body

as my eyelids flutter i fall back within my bones
and breathe deeply as i recount the strangeness -

lost in the docks of antwerp desperate for evening attire,
watching robed friends don masks and sing of sadness -

my past follows me into the great beyond
and stares me in the eyes again and again

for some reason i can see and feel you,
but the familiarity is gone and your voice is no longer yours

i wonder if that's the first thing to disappear
from the recesses of our minds - the sound of love

what i wouldn't give
to have fifty hands
and seventy two
brains so that
i could do it all

i'd take you
home and wrap
you up in something
warm and explain
to you why this
scary world isn't
going to hurt
you once more

instead i'm stuck
here wishing i
was better

today i drove 3.72 miles
to buy a single 44 cent stamp
and a woman with hair
the color of a cement foundation
forgot my name,
so i pretended not to know
hers either

i stood in a line
of people with holiday
parcels under their arms
and i looked at my phone
to check the date
because i live in a world
where the days of the week
rarely flit through my mind,
much less numbers
from a grid written
on paper

(note to self:
don't worry,
you didn't miss thanksgiving)

i meandered slowly
through the zigzags,
all of us corralled
like cows gone to pasture,
or perhaps being led
to slaughter
by flimsy pieces of
polyester we don't
dare touch

the woman
behind the desk
broke my morose thoughts
with a joke about
the government robbing us
all blind

i imagined a swat team
breaking through the glass
wall behind me
and grabbing her
before we could even
blink twice

then a man
three times my age
looked me in the eye
and told me i looked much
too tired for a 20-something
and i told him, well,
that's because i am

we stood in the parking lot
for nearly an hour
and i told him of the dreams
that pull my energy away
just as i'm regaining it,
in the fitful in-between
of true rest and eyes wide open

i spoke of leaping broken stairwells,
chasing thieves on motorcycles,
finding true love only to watch
it be trampled by a crowd moshing
to the music that defines my days

i told him of my mother's theory:
that i was working out
the issues that plagued
me by day throughout
the night

and he scoffed and told me,
girl, your mother may be right,
but that brain of yours is a
gift and these dreams are
what's wrapped up within it;
if you know what's good for you
you'll figure out a way to use them

there are days
where i stand in the
steaming heat of the
shower and feel my pores
purge days of giving,
giving, giving, until
i'm nothing but a bag
of skin and bones

i stand there and repeat
to myself as many times
as it takes, "allow yourself
to be the woman you are"

this is what i call cleansed

the comfortable silences linger
and i find nothing unsuitable
about sitting amongst ferns
and breathing in the mountain breeze

i want not for long-winded
words full of nothing but air

we may not always understand
one another, but you have taught
me to value something i had
never even noticed before

how can i ignore eyes opening
and lights being turned on?

i think of myself and i can't
help but thank you,
for now, i am free

writing poetry daily,
hating you for not
loving me enough
to say it to my face
before i ran 3,000
miles away

i know that the bottle
grips your neck
and swings you onto
sidewalks, but let's
be real, that
excuse isn't one

help me unpack this
i begged as you tried
to hide yourself behind
years of teachers who
were all miss honey with
none of the sweetness

lean any harder and
you'd fall out of your chair,
but i get it, we have a white
man at our table and he's
handsome and successful

i don't nod enough, or
mmm-hmmm, or snap (often),
and my calf-eyed stare
makes you ask, "are you
with me?" more times than is
comfortable for either of us

i'm too wide open, a
grapefruit that was run over
in the safeway parking lot
after it bounced out of your
trunk, juices oozing and
the scent of my insides
familiar, but too ****

i wait to be eaten alive,
but the bitter rot has hands
scraping worn rind off asphalt,
tossed into the garden,
among sweet peas awaiting rebirth

when i'm reminded that i'm human
things swim out of focus
and my eyes work hard to catch up,
but they can't

and my heart races like a
man keeping beat for the band
and i can't help but realize
something the size of my fist
keeps the blood in my body
from sitting stagnant

and my brain wanders
to the darkest corners
covered in dust and cobwebs
behind the bookcases
that chronicle my 23 years
finding the most vile and disgusting
pages that make me up,
the ones i thought i had
torn out and thrown away

and you sit there with that
knowing smile, shaking your head,
because this isn't the first time
that i set myself apart from the rest

and i stare back straight into your
eyes and calmly whisper
that i'm not one of them

but my heart keeps on beating
and pushing the blood through
one piece of living
flesh to the next
and into the brain
that looks like any other,
and just like you,
without it, i'd be dead

collision -
head on into
something i thought
i'd lost
before i found

finding doesn't
rid you of
loss,
but the weight
of it all
can either suffocate
or liberate you

the thing
we must always
remember-
we never
walk
without a
choice

upon waking
i dance, pony, dance
and tell you what
the universe holds
in it's palms for you

my brain is still
trying to rewire
after a night of floating
that didn't amount
to much despite
the vice i placed it
within before the start

i wonder if you've
found the tiny flame
to brew your morning
coffee in that small
space you call home,
and then i realize, it
doesn't matter, even
if you're awake i still
have no business
crawling inside a place
that is explicitly yours

instead i sleep in leather
skirts and wake unable
to open my eyes because
i'm not ready to see a
world that deems me unfit
to love, despite knowing
that i'm the one doing the
reflecting and no one really
cares about my scarred
insides as much as i do

i find myself reluctant
to heal this time, working
slowly to touch every
inch of the broken and
beautiful pieces that make
me into the woman i am,
finding peace in the fact
that i am for the first time
truly and completely alone

the answer comes
quicker than most,
stop slaughtering time
and start living

warm night breezes
in a false summer start
make it easy
to do just that

i swore to myself
that i'd stretch you away,
each breath a release
of the negative space
you occupied as your
hands roamed and found
all of the pieces of me
that would never be perfect

i imagined us floating
above the water, lost in the
cracks between the planks
of wood that you cut and
measured as the callouses
became rougher on each
of your fingertips

i longed for them to get
snagged once more as you
took off my stockings, or
brushed my hair from my
face to see that i was only
a child waiting for someone,
anyone, to love me

i could still smell the wet
and hear the drops fall in
that measured way they do,
i allowed myself to be draped
in the clouds and the vapor
felt like your big dog breathing
on the back of my neck

i laid still and wondered what
it might be like to do so
in the tiny slice of heaven
you had created for yourself,
knowing i would never know

i wondered if it was the spots
or the lack of security, or
maybe it was the secrets
that i couldn't help keeping
even when my tongue
tried it's damnedest
to tell the truth

i woke up and my eyes
were still the same, clouded
and looking for something
i wasn't ready to see, 'maybe
tomorrow,' i whispered as
i found solace in my own
arms that rocked me back
to the inevitable in between

I wish that I had written sooner

though I can still feel the warmth of
your smile, see the crows feet by
your eyes, and hear your deep laughter,
all of your tattoos have begun to blur

I remember seeing you and needing to
know you, or maybe it was that I
already did, the universe pulling
me back towards an old friend

you kept me alive with coffee and
grant slams and the reassurance
that I would never be alone in
questioning everything, and even
though you're gone, I'm not alone

I think of the moon and I see you,
I feel us smiling and swaying as
Kerouac took us back in time, to
a place where art was all that
lived and breathed, our bodies
just vessels for the unveiling

you will always remind me
that there is no such thing as
too late, that endings are beginnings
bursting with beauty and
that happiness comes with
full acceptance of self, and
above all else, love

i was recently told that i'm no poet,
that my words don't evoke art or understanding,
that i haven't grown much, so i took that and chewed it
until it fed my insides and turned my eyes outward on
a world that i haven't dug into at all with words left
jumbling around in a brain used for other means,
i've been forcing my hands and heart to mold this world into a better place,
but without my words what capture will i leave behind, what legacy?

i marched with womxn last month, alone and surrounded by 140,000
others who gabbed and growled about a man with tiny
hands who employs those who want to take control of our reproductive rights,
and wants to throw some of us out of the country, and **** us in the streets,
but the white ladies behind me were more concerned with their clever signs
than the native's plight for their land and the black lady's murdered babies and the burkas being ripped off of women trying to buy skirts in a walmart

i guess i have a hard time finding my america in all of this mess -
i'm a white woman, but i didn't vote for trump
does that make me different? does that make me woke?
i want to join arms and resist with everyone who's ever felt
like they're less than because of something they were born being,
but i'm still not quite sure how to shine solidarity without seeking recognition

i think we all desire ego to be stroked, but how can i want for that
when some people just wish to live? i look long and hard at myself everyday
after too many hours reading about the chaos and sadness so readily
accessed at keyboards stroked by too quick fingertips, the tears they
come and the heart lays heavy, but what do i do? i rally other white folks
to march, i try to change their hearts, i explain what being an ally looks like,
i work in the communities that need it most, i love the children who feel alone,
but i wonder how much of this is for me and how much of it is true love

i'm learning, growing, changing always, but fear holds me in a place between
truly giving and giving just to fill my own cup, the world has changed and the
little girl who stood up to bullies still sits inside of my heart, but the bullies are
corporations, and the president, and coworkers, and family members, and
friends at a super bowl party, so i've got to find a way to be strong with my
solidarity no matter who, what, where, why, when, because this matters and i don't
want to be that person standing up only to put it on instagram, no i want to
affect real change, to be a part of history, to truly love all of my fellow human kind

i want to give from a place of caring without condition, a place that sees color, sees faith, sees gender identity, sees ****** orientation, sees *** work, sees disabled folk,
and doesn't pretend that their story is one that i understand and echo because
i have ovaries and know what it feels like to be frightened, no, i can't put my ******
on a pedestal and use it as a badge of courage anymore, it's time to open my heart
and ears and truly be humbled in the honorary process of letting myself learn

just because i've felt real fear, doesn't mean i know anyone else's fear, and the only
way that i will come to be a true empath, a true ally, a true warrior is if i learn to quiet
the voice within my head and listen when others speak from their darkest depths,
i must build my strength, my bonds, my heart, my mind so i can lift those up, serve as a megaphone for the voices quieted by men in uniform and suits, pound the pavement as a truly intersectional, solidarity-filled sister of every man, woman, child, they/them, that has ever felt alone, that has ever wanted for more, that has ever been denied
the privilege that i benefit from just by living, as a white woman in this world

sometimes my head emerges,
i breathe deep in clear skies and then
again, i'm lost
deep within the fog that makes it hard
to know which way
is home

I spend my days
thinking in poetry-
perfection never penned,
perpetually falling upon
my own deaf ears
and disintegrating into
the great nothingness,
only to be recycled
into bits and pieces
of other poems
never to be read

with each night
the words vanish,
one by one,
as I repeat them
incessantly, hoping
that I just might
recite a stanza
upon waking

I wish that my
mouth would open
and out they would
come, perfectly pressed
upon cardstock, fresh
with that inky smell
I swear still lingers
on my finger tips and
pillowcases

instead, I lay still
and silent, and watch
hopelessly as
they drift into dreams

each of you reminds me
that strength manifests
magic and majesty at it's
own rate and pace
within each of us

i hear the roar of the lion,
see the silent slow build
of muscles below the surface,
smell the sweet satisfaction
of forging familial ties,
touch the tangible results
of big brains and hard work,
see the bravery it takes to
let love in after horrific loss,
and taste the treats only
an open mind can unleash

each of us wholly woman,
with wombs that grow
babies, change, and inspiration-
all creators in our unique
capacities, with hearts
as full as the moon that
moves the waves within

he strums downstairs,
remnants of childhood and
forevermore colliding

i wished for a life just like this,
complex, beautiful, and full of living

imagine a single silk thread extending
from your soul to mine, a line that doesn't
force us too near, but reminds us of the inevitable

the star that decided upon our fate may very
well be extinct, but to it, i am forever grateful

we are nothing but specks of dirt
blowing in the wind, father and
farther apart.

and if somehow by the grace of
the current that carries this air
we are brought back together,
i'm not sure i'll recognize you.

stuck between heart break
and a deep sigh of relief,
i wish either felt easier.

why do I still care
that you dated a girl
with my weird,
half-shaved head, haircut?
I still wonder if you
asked her to cut her hair
that way
because you missed
the feeling of fingertips
on fresh buzz

I look back at myself
and I feel shame-
not for the things I’ve done,
or haven’t-
but for not loving myself
deeply and always,
for selling out to insecurities
and letting others tell me
what defined my essence of self,
for not seeing my soul
clearly, and for not
being my own
biggest risk and reward

the only thing you ever
gave me were ****** up
naval cavities and an
inexplicable understanding
of what it means to lay
in someone’s arms
and feel completely alone

how do i put into words
that the weight of want crushes me

that i had you and now i don't,
and there are so many others
that have laid in my arms,
but i remain a clam shell
refusing to open up into
the lotus i'm destined to become

i lay at night and think of
you, lightly brushing my skin,
the deep release we both felt
in the moment we allowed ourselves
to dip back into the same spot
of the universe, that moment
of presence within and without each other

i lay there and i tell myself it means
absolutely nothing, that you are
there and i am here, and that it will
always remain that way even when
you're standing nose to nose with me

i lay there and love you and am sure
to stay silent because i can't bare to
break into the unknown and possibly
sink further into this sadness that i've
worn draped around my shoulders
for more moons than i'd like to admit

i am crushed by a loss i haven't experienced
yet, but i mourn just the same

feeling for feeling -
fingertips, foundations, friends,
they slip, they slip

i know not what i once knew,
but for always and forever,
there is more to know

growth is the answer that i get,
to whatever question i decidedly ask,
it's roots deepening and branches reaching

and the pain, it's brief, but deep,
haven't felt it in awhile,
but i know it's the good kind

loss is inevitable, but so is strength,
and the buckets never seem to empty,
no matter how much is poured

so, i will swim, paddle, and float
my way to a better existence
beyond the ether and into a new day

the voices in my head
become undead
the voices in my head
become undead
the voices in my head
become undead

and i am nothing
but a memory

i feel the water amass beneath my dark circles,
pushing against my eyeballs with the gentle whisper that says,
"this release is just what you need,"
but still, i can't allow it because i'm the steady hand,
the rock through this **** storm that will see everyone
through to the other side of the choppy waters before us

i wonder what life on the other side of the chasm
will really look like, if this utopia is nothing but a farce
that they've written in children's books and bibles alike
to keep us hunting and holding onto the only shreds of
humanity left in a world intent on murdering love

i feel the pieces slip between my finger tips, and they
linger in the air longer than gravity should allow, but still,
i cannot catch them no matter how quick and agile i become,
so i try being flexible instead and the back bends serve me
well until they don't, but that doesn't stop me from continuing the practice

i stay awake and bathe myself in moonlight even when
the clouds hide all of the pieces of me that i thought were already
illuminated, i lose myself in moments of stillness in a bed that
doesn't really belong to me, but really, what do any of us truly
own on this rock hurtling through time and space? i wonder about
that for a long while and hum along to tunes that belong in music boxes,
not the heart of a girl who will never commit long enough to release them

i sit in the sadness so long that the muck dries like a crackling mask
over my entire being, the peeling back reveals loss on a scale i still
don't really comprehend, but still, my feet move forward into one day
followed by the next and the next and the next, and in the moments that
i find stillness i think nothing, just relish in the embrace of an effortless breath

I wish that I had the kind of mind that would allow full release, but the truth of the matter is that steal traps have always been my ideal. I've worked hard to build myself an island, surrounded it with mines, and loaded myself with ammunition for anyone that manages to make it onto dry land. I lay at night and watch as the screen on the ceiling replays my greatest failures and losses. I feel your warmth next to me and can't help wondering what will bring our demise. I float above us and watch myself pull away, inch by inch. I place jealousy, hysteria, impatience, doubt, and desire between us in a neat line on the mattress that the last man I loved bought. Is this it? An endless loop of love lost? Am I so jaded that I'll never heal enough to allow truth and love to permeate every fiber of my being? I want to give myself to you, but I have this odd feeling that the cup is close to empty. I worry that I'm nothing if not greedy, pulling you towards me, all the while knowing that I'm incapable of allowing you all the way in. Maybe you're different, maybe I can be. I want to be, that's got to count for something. Right?