There's a sullen word
Written on my windowpane
Though my eyes can't see
At a glance far
From the distance
Of viewing.

Maybe scribbles of street children
Creeping the panels
Kept the glass sheets
Full with designs
Of hand markings
Able to confuse my soul
With my thoughts.

Is it really
The four-letter-word
That has denied me
Of life?
My eyes do not lie though.

True.
The sights are keen.
But the feeling?
No.

I could only remember
Anagrams of the word,
The consonants
And its vowels.

It's there. In every smile
it hides in the creases of your lips
and when your eyes light up it's there in the empty spaces in between
laughing like darkness laughs when light can't catch it,
and light can never catch it completely,
it's there always, always always
in the way the summer sun dries your tears and
massages your shoulders, it's there.
In every word it's hiding there just behind your tongue.
Most of all it's there when you stare off at nothing,
down at the emerald carved grass, up at the stars,
at nothing and I can see your mind tick straight
through your eyes, I can see your soul screaming and
it's screaming and it's there in the screams
there in the back corner of you,
of your mind of the place so deep inside shadows of shadows
whisper secrets to themselves, the kind you're afraid to listen
to because you might see yourself too clearly
and it's there, it's all the way back there,
it's in every every and it's an impending failure,
a misunderstanding, an explosion, a fear. It's fear
and it's a waiting, a knowing, a certainty.
It's a knowing, and that's the scariest part.

Isn’t it



Wonderful,

The suffocating love of a hundred people
They want you, what’s best for you
What’s best for you, what is best for you?
Rejecting them means rejecting love,
but you are in short supply of you
As demand increases, so does price
the price of you
the price is you.
Sanity sets in, escape’s let out
every night let it out,
beats staying in
Some are in short supply of love

*******

Not you
The suffocating love of a hundred people let you know
Across the room, across the country
a hundred people can’t help
shedding ‘bout one sixty does
only, you have to shed it
anchors only work when attached

love

it pulls your judgment, mind from its foundation
wants to make your choices
wants to make your coffee
you start to save you,
in a container with a seal
the shiny latch makes a pop noise
You can see through the otherside
No one can get in,
Not with the pop noise
Its where you keep you
in the house, Close the door
pressure mounts
let it out in

drops,

thoughts and blood
watch it heal, know you’re better
lets you know,
you are better, you are better
You are Better,
better isn’t with help, it doesn’t come with age
it’s a choice you make
the suffocating love of a hundred people
they pile on blankets, keeps you warm
but at a hundred blankets deep you aren’t moving

move.

Don’t think about me, don’t think about him
Just move and keep moving,
roots and anchors
Learn which is which
Remember which is which
Act on which is which
you grow roots, anchors are placed upon you
usually around the neck region.
Box up all the memories, store them if you like
But don’t stay attached, burn if necessary
Anchors only work if they’re attached
You can’t ‘be ready’ for something that’s already happened
It’s the past in those boxes,
the fond death of past nothings,
Life only exists in the future,
Not to be too dramatic but we’re dying, right now
in the present
we breath out life out as we speak
Only the future has life, stored as potential
just take the steps
cut out the cancer
if you want to be ready for something, be ready for what’s next

There is a place in my body where you lie,
A place where fold of muscles and skin,
pillars and bridges and jails of
bones are intact. . .
Where you swim in blood,
dancing in an endless rhythm of beats.
There is a place in me that can be measured,
but whats inside is immeasurable. . .

There is an Idea of you in me.