there is a certain sickness which swallows the Poet.

i wish you weren't dead,
you've taken over my life
get out of my head.

your cool hands beckoned my shaky knees,
take me among the pine trees, please.
driving home through adirondack sunshowers,
i became yours in the fields of mountain flowers.
you loved me through the darkest night,
and you still want me in the mornings light.

blue like a well lit room
on a summer day, where the sun is warm but the breeze is cool.
the breeze, coming from my open window
which had been closed+ locked tight for two years too long.

a writer will write in any situation;
terror, and stoic sadness-
it's about manifestation.
verbal *******, mental incarceration.
the blank white page: a cage
and my pen is the key,
ink on paper to set emotion free.

"can i read it, please?"
you like eye ******* my poetry?
with my words i can make you feel anything.
with my words, i can illustrate an intricate painting
because a writer will write to make you see;
a writer would rather write
than speak to anybody.

(speaking gives writers anxiety)

shaman of new mexico, the warrior which resides in myself longs to
know what you know.
the desert may tame the wildest of hearts- or it can manifest
the wildest of starts.{it's really all the same}

witch doctor- shrunken heads,
the garden will tread
upon you in the evening
all starry lit skies +burdensome cries
the garden shall tread upon your soul

bearing the sweetest fruits, ******* explosions
bittersweet remedies, curing
no//every -thing

giving ability to possess what you otherwise
never would fathom or guess

Depression is a void, an empty ocean.
I dont want to go there, but she tells me to come anyways and I obediently follow.
Away from the hills and through the city, she reintroduces me to my two old friends,
Grief and Pity.
It's been a while, though they do not ask me how I've been. Its always been all about them.
I hate her for taking me here, but i have no choice, she knows the way because we've been there together before.
She knows how to navigate the steep cliffs, lies, narrow paths and empty eyes.
How silly of me to think that I could forget, so many times it was where I lived, cried and slept, I could NEVER forget.
I think I'll stay here a while, after all. Shes blocked the exit on the other side of the hall, but i dont mind because this comfort is mine.
Depression and my two old friends, three if you count her. I didnt miss them but I dont feel out of place here, they know me so well.
So I take another drag from my cigarette and I let the void swallow me.

we shouldn't*
we should

this is what i'm left with,
blank walls of a cold basement.
moving on seems so easy sometimes,
but this is where i spend each night
and it's lonely.

sometimes i'm able to fall asleep,
only to wake up abruptly;
half expecting to turn over and see your face
doing that mouth half open, eyes half closed thing.
but it's him there, because you're not around anymore

i don't love him or them, but they
never go away
(they come when i ask them to.)
faithful ******* specks
of dust clinging onto a broken piano
or a tired old bookshelf
whose books don't get opened anymore.

i miss you the most at night,
and lately it seems
like the night
never ends.

p e o p l e        d   e s t ro y t  he  thi ngst   hatyo ulove              
d e s t r o y     thi n g s         y o u
t h e                                                                     l o  ve  
t h i n g s
t h a t
y o u
l o v e

the blue of his eyes remind me of a time when i was a little girl.
that trip to the beach when the atlantic pulled me in
(i couldn't swim)
the way the waves pulled me into the vastness of the ocean,
so similar to the way that i fell for him in one swift motion;
a kiss and i was his
(in his eyes, i am learning to swim)
the lack of breath and anxiety,
until the idea of drowning doesn't seem so scary anymore.
a calmness washes over your being when you become afraid.
(your blue eyes are like a tidal wave.)
and i am yours, forever to claim.

as if the earth were two blue spheres instead of one, i feel alive in your eyes.

standing outside and weeping at the sky
experiencing an incredibly moving time.
"it's the most beautiful i've ever seen it"
that exact sentence, i want to taste you scream it.
fill my lungs with the colours of the sun
you and your tongue are my only ones.

your song came on and it made me weep because i'd still give ******* anything to hear you sing it, or speak.
"i just want back in your head"