they've got their fun
they've got their leaves.
i've got me
something that doesn't feel free.

they don't miss me
just the spectacle
they wish to disagree.

who me? none want to see
myself
i don't even want to be
- - -
lonely, lonely
a nameless void
i wish to fill

until tomorrow
maybe tomorrow
definitely not tomorrow.

lady lace
leaves without a trace.

fighting to be heard
to be understood
in all those years
that mattered most.

justice served now
when nothing matters anymore
a small disturbance
once, i used to be so sure.

yet it still hits deep
why- i cannot fathom.
wanting to be salt
feeling fake it in it all.

a void so deep of loneliness
no forest fires can light
the torch in my hand
but it's just my flesh
i manage to set ablaze.

her hurt doesn't change mine
i don't know what will

sheer curtains filter
light in many ways
as it shines in winter
it travels another space

sit in raw luminance
at nighttime or day
feel the divine presence
under which you lay

details of constellations
seen from land afar
up for modern contemplation
while smoking a cigar.

headlights glow in the
dark foggy night
stating their
passing presence
on the street

i'm listening to
melodies of my past
on the radio
and they remind
me of all
the tragedies
i've amassed.

ones that play
in every nightmare
and it's quite rare
for them to be
content with just
being there.

they have to
make me relive
all the horrors
i've moved beyond
to make sure i can
enjoy no reprieve

i wish my
nightly drives
could just
be therapeutic
instead of
being reprisals
of all that makes me
psychotic

walking left
or walking right
you drag me down
with no end in sight
you cut me deep
year after year
yet still i need
to fall at your feet
ha.

bidding my time
& counting the lines

ill be on my way
& you don't care

leave only healing within your wake
like a trail of wildflowers and stardust
twinkling and blooming upon the ground
that meets your gentle tread

blue bonnet flames in a sea of scorched terrain
the sun felt extra harsh as it touched my skin today
and my thoughts feel quite unsettling
not knowing what's true from my imagining
from where do i learn the art of trance?
i'm all ears, trust me. i'm listening

where lies the magic?
masquerading around like a poetess
dancing in the face of tragic mishaps
misshapen by extraterrestrial beckons
away from the melancholy of
rain-soaked trails

reconciling. constant. duress.
letting go of lunar divinations of one
and all perturbations using what comes
from the air unseen;
like the supposed
facets of my birthstone:
the clear blue aquamarine

another morning too; drenched in dew
reminiscing coils of sapience
seen in all corners of the room.
searching for some sense
where there lives only nonsense.
growing insane trying to grasp
magic from mundane.

earthly idols: all turned stone
like resounding walls
juggling with no catcher nor clone.
circulating beings; pick one-
how? without seeing what's shown

discerning devotion
driven to sheer delusion
confounded by exuberance
where only fear and control roam
through narrow corridors within
these lovely two-story bones

unsteady. undone.
i know not
which battle to be won.

and i'm trying-
hard as i might
to see through
and capture holy sight
along this dim lit path
that leaves me alone
where feelings of wrath
have surely taken their hold

what lesson lives in loneliness?
left my thoughts here
just as the powers that be
seemingly have left me
to solitary discernment.
not the slightest bit concerned
repeatedly echoing
what an embarrassment

no answers
only questions
once the dream ends
retreat into imperfections

highway's hush rushing through bare trees
as fiery snapdragon blooms stillness
despite outreached branches mingling with the wind;
sky darkens the sun with deep bearing clouds burdened
ready for release-
each meticulously becoming
one with intersection
softening the blow of punishing heat.
no blade no leaf suspicious
just breathing and being
knowing not of time fleeting

be still my raging thoughts
ranging from bleakest futures
to none at all
whether they root in truth
or become that itself
i'll find out in the fall
- - -
fibers of my clothes stitched neatly
into channels visible under a lens
expand with each breath
and retreat unto themselves by ways of exhale
however soft
however sharp
matching the pace
shaky at start
steady? still i come apart
unraveled at the seams
loosely joined to begin with

what love do i know?
rooted in shadows
i call home
warmless golden corridors
no palm upon the windows

groveling at the feet of
clay pedestals
in these names and forms
full of shame shaped thorns
forcing breaths that fuel fire
whose foundation runs weak
like volcanic empires

there i stay serving
myself on a pyre
going up in flames to release
sparkling embers fading upward
crackling from remains
nothing but charred

here i am free
where you shelter in me
scaffolding lay repose
and everything you see
is not mine I suppose;
never was, but in the end:
this capricious rhythm's taken its toll
& the avaricious will never does as it's told.

tiled by each passerby
tapestry woven from threads ever worn.
I am a collection
of everyone I've ever known.

many masks, one for any occasion
each gathered meticulously
from every stop at the station.

timidly tending to the layers
catalogued by time.
scattering all my prayers
hoping to reveal what's mine.

human inside and out
borrowed too, then lost
how can i live with no doubt
when moment moves faster
than i ever thought?

trapped by failings of a guardian
protective duty check-marked

how can i make a meal
so full of comfort
to fill my insides
with a sense of belonging
like a warm genuine embrace
trustingly exclaiming
you belong here

what ingredients does it take
to feel at home of an elder
compassionately caring
for you
providing you warm shelter
from the storm outside

i don't want to talk about my self.
but i want my core to be known
without brandishing victories
only reminding past miseries
and the bones that remain
underneath flesh
surrounding my soul

no matter i carry both
as they hold me passant
still not knowing-
increasingly growing
seeds colored virulent
even songbirds loathe

the days of my long forms
are long gone as
i no longer think in rivers
that set my canoe afloat

i now think in the waves
that come and go
as i sit still on the shore
no matter the tides

but the depth of the sea
is far greater than the river
so why then does my continuity
evade me

is it because i stop
and listen to every
broken sand's life story

instead of passing by the
rocks on the waters
that swiftly smooth them?

between the lines of my laughter
lays sighs of weariness
about what may happen
if i do not temper my joy
- - -
i worry about letting my guard down
long enough to feel
lashes of disappointment and loss
that will sure follow