I write down my thoughts so they can breathe.
Don't mistake them for poetry.
I write to prove to myself that even on days I awake with my own blood on my hands.
I still am sane.
Or at least something similar to that.
Because if I was truly sane I would hate myself.
And I grew tired of that many months ago.

There is sea glass in my lungs. Bottles of undelivered messages smashed and worn down from the unforgiving waters in my chest.

Underneath the growing grass,
  Underneath the living flowers,
  Deeper than the sound of showers:
  There we shall not count the hours
By the shadows as they pass.

Youth and health will be but vain,
  Beauty reckoned of no worth:
  There a very little girth
  Can hold round what once the earth
Seemed too narrow to contain.

I shall gather myself into myself again,
I shall take my scattered selves and make them one,
I shall fuse them into a polished crystal ball
Where I can see the moon and the flashing sun.

I shall sit like a sibyl, hour after hour intent,
Watching the future come and the present go—
And the little shifting pictures of people rushing
In tiny self-importance to and fro.

Jesus is the messiah.
Jesus is the key to the lock.
Jesus is the light within darkness.
Jesus is the strength to every weakness.
Jesus is the truth to every lie.
Jesus is the right to every wrong.
Jesus is the good within the evil.
Jesus is the answer to every problem.
Jesus is the forgiveness when one feels vengeance.
Jesus is the words in every book.  
Jesus is the life to every death.
Jesus is the messiah.

stars are tiny holes
in Heaven's carpet
and they say that
humans are made
from the dust
that falls
through them
and can't get back home.

As we lie dying
the little death,
pull me close
beneath your chin
and hold me tight.
Breathe me in,
feel my heat,
wear me warm
like a well worn blanket.
I will weave you a dream
of dyed wool, desert moons
and a Paiute wind.
I'll dream us through
this long night.
Wrap yourself in me
and rest easy.
Breathe me in,
sleep in me, wear me
like you need to.
And when you awake
I'll still be here
like the desert moon
in a Paiute wind.

r 7/15/14