strip away the physical of place,
the where-a bouts of purpose
     a naked soul peers into a mirror
                  reflecting self
within the heart is found a contained fire
      the flames roll with sturdy desire
                   spit, scream,
       lies muffle the scene
                   quick step to serenity
eyelids opened to a worlds window
        stark chills lift goose bumps
time is fleeting by while the  skin merely heats
the radiance is ignored
         inside self's cage it has nowhere to go

on her knees she comes crawling in from a storm
a refuge with heavy baggage
sludge marks her path to shelter
ten thousand ruined, and wrongs
a welcome across the threshold
and interweaving clench for comfort
she stood up for a moment
and her eyes witnessed the uncrossing
unforgiven

huffing cases float into the endless abyss
     taken away by the heavens
             sodden fingers bid adieu
                       waving off drips of gray fondness
           diving into heedless currents
                crystallizing with the past
amongst severed mountain heads
                rivers of lost marbles roll for rollings toll
           smelling of folly, fog dances with trees        
                   only shadows are left to breathe

I lie in bed gazing at my bumpy popcorn ceiling
I let my stare settle to follow my fan's revolution
Focusing on one plates trip around its axle
It is without fail and I find in my fan dependability
It deserves its place up there
It knows the right direction and spinning speed
It has no temptations to stop or slow
And rarely does it make a sound
It refuses to fall, to let the pressure win
It does not care its only painted to look like wood
Or that its never dusted clean
It does not complain about how the lights get more attention
Or how central air is more popular
It has purpose on the verge of personality
I lie in bed for my purpose is not so clear
And a personality not so worthy
Yet I am the one with the freedom to choose
Question: But what if my answers
Not to be
This fan seems to have proven a bitter point
It has made a mockery out of my passive glares
I fear its judgements, for it whispers disapproval
I tear myself away from its patronizing winds
And allow my eyes to float and find a mirror
Making sense of looks and location
And the human stare that beams back
Smiles and agrees
Decisively objective in its demeanor
I must admit that my reflection is convincing
But its light is late, and its fancy tricks deceive
Tis a fools mistake to reduce verbs to stale states
Question: To be alive or to live a life
Or choose to gamble with one's talent to lie
I lie; I lie in bed

stretching feet forward until they find themselves
following are less traveled feet
instead however nothing this round was found
digging at
in
and around her reflection
with wanting lashes she attempts to ask
and grasps at her flesh for deeper, for more

with clenched toes the early she turns on her heel
not to agree
she points at the statue
stiff and solid is it's state of beauty
and with this fat ugly no she darts shards of doubt
duck
duck
you must know she chose to say goose

sickly skin, an unfavorable face
you are the goose
a mere shadow in the breast of day
she picks apart the young puzzle
parting pieces in her many pockets

she swings the story closed
but through a peep hole a small ear saves
the reflections secret truth
that their sins are shared
and she is only masked,
and she is only mortal

Frequently I find myself covered in soot
Looking down I ***** shackles tied to each foot
Above I see bolts of boring bold steel
Limiting the stretch of what my feelings can feel
Within the private gift we all have been deemed
I am vested in crisscrossed layers uncleaned
Hammering my head are your ticks and your tocks
Recalling my labors for horrid have nots
I must amuse the begotten bejeweled
Robotically remain a chaotic fool
Most of us have been trained to forget
But avail awaits harvest like a reserve in the mess
Special they are that save and revive
Recognize the saviors that make you alive
Ahh…
Safely deep is the desire, a vision of retreat
Infectious is the perfect picture which I have begun to see
Fussing forgone, and put down with glee
I've found the buzz that busies me
That awakens my long since lazy feet
And ends the feast that which my fears eat
The world has given my soul a rhyme
To which I flow and from which I rise
I confused my curse; I'll refuse no more
Its decidedly a gift that has settled my war

left after right
and back over again
towards the horizon but with no end
the grounds shakes but takes me forward
considering not for my wishes won't afford
calmly encountering my chase after the wind
unknowing lover; I will never win
sore sad hands reach for my limbs
and halt my pace, I turn down my chin
stop
slow
go
step
leap
cheat
fall
crawl
curl
cry
sing
try
get up
and start running again
towards the horizon with no end