She
   People-watches
     Lipstick-blotches
       Kissing her coffee cup
   Daydream-drinker
     Over-thinker
       Brewing in her mind.
   Bold-with cream
     Cool-with steam
       Latte lifting up
   Always stirring
     Wond'ring, worry'ing
       Of love she left behind.
|b.g.|

i have survived
storms.
i have survived a father's voice like thunder;
handprint lightning flowers petal over my skin
like i am a garden to sinners-
adam and eve call my grassroots their home and hum lullabies-
i have survived
anger.
pros and cons of
clock-ticking therapy sessions where money is thrown at my gaze,
fixed on the wall,
dollar-a-second drumming fingers
screaming so loud that heaven shuts the blinds and hangs a "closed" sign on the door.
pros and cons of
stumbling home,
under a murky peerless crowd of smoke,
slurring words trail around and behind me like moths to a porchlight.
morning headaches,
angry adults
damaging drywall and breaking family portraits
exhausting search for answers
exhausting search in a silence that lengthens the disconnect from child to mother
where your mind goes red and the honest truth that stays stuck to the roof of your mouth falls out
where you become an overflowing mailbox and your hands shake
the absence of parents who never taught you to hold your tongue
i have survived
hurt.
i have survived the specific type of loss that you feel in the pit of your stomach
the one that lies next to you
when you stare at the ceiling and your face hurts from crying
tears scrub your eyelids raw and you promise,
"if i ever make it through this,
i will never be here again."
i have survived giving up,
taking it all back, throwing it all away,
parallel structures of contemplation and decision
i have survived
lonely.
angry storms of abandonment, melodies of the lonely and the hurt
i reprise to the ones that add injury to insult,
you are not the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
i echo choruses to the people that force me to grow up at sixteen
i have destruction embedded into my neurotransmitters
i have shooting post-traumatic pain in my memories
i have survived
a hell that your hands are not stained enough to touch.
i assure you,
my love,
i will survive
you as well

Etched in his mind,
The internal war,
Haemorrhaging blood,
Hidden once more,

Slowly he’s dying,
His body too weak,
Paralysed lips,
Unable to speak,

Traumatic life,
Slipping away,
His heavy soul,
Aching today.

He witnessed it all,
The burden unseen,
Screaming their names,
Tortured in dream,

His cries settle,
His memory fades,
Wiping the tears,
For former comrades.

(Repeat)

dragging forth a smile
i stand before the storm
of teenage angst
set down on worn carpet

we are in the eye
at rest, becalmed

but just for now

soon the winds
will blow and crack
and the seas
will roil and seethe

and from the mouth
all things vile will
spout and spew

and I and my albatross
will rue, having awakened

but I will smile
even as the albatross
whimpers and hides

for my smile
is my defence
against
this incoming
kingtide

of hormonal  soap  opera
that is  this class
of seveteen teenage
pains in my ****
this farce of bed hopping
and sloppy breakups
followed by anguish
and x rated make ups

all played out before me
like reality tv

and I and the albatross
smile and stand
thinking ....
one more semester
then
I am gone from this land.....

My albatross and I ... can take to the sea