When the
D u
S t
Clears away-

You
(-) (-)
Who cares-

And who moves
Away-

the smirk creeping behind
vertical shafts of wooden surmise
pale pastel gold, deep blushing orange
faint impressions of stars
like a single bead of sand
toppled onto the white washed beach
where the pink coral tore wreckage
trees uprooted, a hawk nested
absent of a human presence
for some artifacts man cannot know
that the sun is beautiful
and the sea cries remorseful
the wind a living organism
the pink coral skeletons
and a new day's rise
a blessing in disguise

like a knotted fist squeezed so tight
that creases fall into crisp white lines
feel the heartbeat circulating,
pulsing through the membranes
etched into the tissue of this
fist-knotted remembrance,
hopeful succession into the white capped seas
a simple touch, a simple shove  
and a burden to keep afloat the flood
holding onto my own gnarled fist
I think there was a stalk of lavender
crossed in the palm of where
the wild things lay,
churning nightmares and twisted sheets
cast upon the dusty shaft of sunlight
and I'll be alright, this fistful of lavender
scented of my dreams to keep
and future to see, the love yet to be
to break into tears at the sight
of beautiful architecture,
the foreign language unsettling on my tongue
never let go of this fist,
the fistfull of lavender

I thought I was the only one that no one understood
But I found that words could touch me in a way he never could.

he's a hangman's noose, with long fingers unfurling the tethers of his rope on her throat
shards of shame ***** the back of her eyelids until the tears stream down her cheeks
and he grips beneath her hips, uneven nails biting into
untouched, porcelain flesh with ferocity
drawing blood that would take a week to heal
and a nausea that will never stop rising

you can't ruin me
there will be blood on my hands
but you will not win