It's gonna get colder when you leave.
The ground will harden
And the trees will sleep
And the world
Will wait.
Underneath the snow,
Life
Will wait.
The wind will search for you in every face
Biting and frantic
But find nothing,
And in despair crack across the ground like a whip
Stirring up little ghostly eddies of ice crystals.
The snow will catch the branches and drag them down
Asking
Why the silence,
This year?
None of that summertime laughter
To light up the ice and make it sparkle.
The days will pull darkness around them like a thick coat
And slink by
In a hurry to be elsewhere,
Still too long, and too strange.

And then
Just when we've all almost given up,
Winter will soften, just a bit.
The rains will come, like a good cry you've been holding your breath against
For months,
And the snow will wash away
And the ground will be ugly and scarred,
But bare at last,
And the land will begin
Slowly
To bloom
In anticipation of your footsteps there.

The sun will hold its line in the battle against the night
For just a sliver longer every day.
The first flowers will shoot up through
The last little patches of snow,
Light green and fragile.
The world will wake
Yawn and stretch,
Is she back yet?
Is she here?
The cherry blossoms on the tree in my backyard will unfurl
White and delicate and frothy on tough, leathery branches
And we will all see that maybe
Everything is going to be alright
After all.

Is she back yet?
Is she here?
And summer will stroll in, laughing,
The moment you set foot on this soil again.

Shoot up with Ink,
Take off the edge,
allow it to float you
down off the ledge
of destruction.

Instead place yourself
in reconstruction,
go on,
change it all;

Skin
Words
Thoughts

This drug may crawl you back to freedom

First the skin, cut to within
Slithers of scratches
Skim over your arm
doing just enough harm
To Ensure you're alive
Yet this pen's marks are
harmless enough
that they can only reach inside through your mind

You're sure to survive
you must never cut deeper
A needless nicotine patch
for a virginal physical self-harmer
Cut yourself Calmer

Here come the words,
allow verbs, vowels and nouns
to sound their way out
Say things you wish you'd said
Type things you want to shout
Find the door and safety lock
and force your way
bound out

You are Alone
but for whispered, mouthed and subtle
tone of Freedom

Relish and Revel
Search your way to hell
out here
Find the things so close,
so near,
you couldn't see them if you
tried,
they hide behind the ink.
Blink, they're gone,
splattered in the lyrics
to a lifelong song,
branded.

How could something so true, be wrong?

Allow your thoughts to be free,
be you, be me
See everything
Feel all,
Stall as you wait for the buzz to fade
You can never be sated with this
Something you can't recall
but you must always miss.

Addictions scarring, marring and barring
words always a
kiss
away from overdose,
it's so close you can taste it
Feel it's breath

When you put the pen
down

You can only feel

Bereft,
so test yourself again
Find the mental vein and
slice it open

Feel the pain of truth
Open the roof of your skull
and allow the clock to fall
Ticking
to silence
Violent peace
Calm chaos

Hyperbole
Alliteration
Oxymoronic
Nouns
Verbs
Words
Words
­Words
Think
ThInk
hInk
Ink

Ink
InkInk
InkInkInk
InkInkInkInk
InkInk

Whistling,
whirling,
swirling.

As the first snow falls to the ground,

it leaves us housebound.

The whistling silence that lives outside,

from this I must hide.

As the fires breath gives us heat,

this is where we meet,

brought together through simple circumstance,

I look out as the snowflakes dance.

Whistling,
whirling,
swirling.

Clang!

goes the unhinged doors,

the storms hunger begs for more.

Crash!

goes the broken branches,

for a second our blood flow stanches.

Whistling,
whirling,
swirling.

The eyes of the fire jump out,

for more firewood it shouts,

this beast we must keep at bay,

it's the only way to make the warmth stay.

The hunger that is outside, and that that is in,

one so cold, the other burns the skin.

From these to poisons we must choose,

oh this winter we are paying our dues.

I think of spring and all it promises,

but all I can hear is,

whistling,
whirling,
swirling,
whistling,
whirling,
swirling­,
whistling,
whirling,
swirling.