i have three bees
these bees are three
they crawl up my spine
and then they sting
with bulging eyes
and grinning wings
they drink the sun
and what it brings

I am in pieces
scattered across the carpet
shoved beneath the bed
out of sight in drawers
when everyone and everything seems at the peak
I am looking up to the mountain
wishing I had brought my boots
every window is an opening,
and I find myself wishing to escape
and I find myself holding only so many hours in my hand
trying desperately to not allow myself
to just allow myself
to just let
to just
no time

painting my face the colors of fall
a pair of autumn eyes.
however, my intentions are good
doesn't that count for anything anymore?
a nod, a smile, a wonderful combination of the two
the best way to lie is to change the truth

hanging by a thread
sunlight pools at my feet
burning, raging reflections
brushing at my fingertips
no walls, no ceilings
just a pair of sunken eyes
blinking slowly
taking in the picture
just a mouthful of barbed wire
breathing rusted metal
memorizing my trails
I will start with nothing

remembering something lovely
remembering a dream
I fall into myself, I fall out again
I get so lost, so empty
and when my eyes open up
I am just a loose,
simple image of myself
just a pretty little doll
that walks and speaks simply
I awake, dress, eat, deliver
I drink, speak, break, sleep
it is so lovely, I forget to stop
and so like clockwork I am running
and I fall into and out of step
my own footprints
little trails of little patterns

the lion's snarl
dramatic
aggressive
yet nothing more
than empty threats


*I'm not afraid of you

depression, a sickness,
a lonesome disease
yet no outer sores
for others to see
deceptive smiles
a half-hearted, "Fine"
when someone is hurting
where is the sign?
they lay in their shells,
shrinking away
when they've lost faith in the good
and each passing day
a lavender lip smear
a watercolor face
struggling to continue
the rushing new pace
where do they turn
when depression is growing?
and those who are closest
have no way of knowing

the pink beneath the sheets
soft and ordinary
one pleasant lip curl
enough to knock me off my feet

the roses on your cheeks
wilt one at a time
oh, sweet sickness
the heat rose from the streets

the thick salted air
it's enough to fill my lungs
along with my cravings
I've got a spoonful