On my way down, crashing into the earth, the soil
feels so hard. There’s no more grace in my

form unfolding, the sun has made
me a passive fool to burn. My words
are empty, my beauty’s

fading with the light which brings out the flaws. Once, I
was at my height, I could see the way down and I

tumbled over.

I’ve no hopes
for him, for I know he
doesn’t want me. One solitary

wave doesn’t erase words unsaid. I don’t
want to care, I don’t want to feel shoved aside and

forgotten. I see how love works
and she doesn’t
bend to me. I’ve no

salvation once the expectation and perfection has
been declared. All the ride up meant is I’ll

come down again.


© September 2004

My blood creeps through my head, in reverie.
I was left unspoken to and there are things I couldn’t say,
how this was I could not talk with whom

it mattered, at least to whom I thought
it did. And purging through the sand in the hourglass, the
grains start to feel like though they roughen up

my skin, it remains untouched by you. And it bleeds
on the inside, as I have my head and heart waiting for
reply. But it won’t come. How silence can unpierce

through me like an ethereal needle cushion. Am I not worth
it, have I left your mind now more than I have before? For the
screen I look and sit, patience I am burning, like

long incense sticks, but alas, my room’s ceiling has not
the height to hold the scent imprisoned above me, and it
escapes, with light smoke spiraling down the stairwell, it

is devoid of all serenity bringing quality. Still I keep myself
clean, from the foul smell of darkness, and maintain my artificial
scent, longing to break the concentration that I need to

stay calm over this. Though in almost more time I feel it become
more useless. I am not built for the speechless weight of others; I
wish you’d just come talk to me.


© 2004

We know which sacrifices what we believe in brings
So we will sit together amongst the trees to celebrate, the destruction and the fluster of
All this released creativity. So we know that only with standing together
We can own the future that comes to us, something we fought tooth and nail
To stand for, to gather for and burn our empires.

On the pyres of our ruined privilege we cry. Our holy times,
They have come and gone. In the emptiness we find our souls again and
Reclaim the soil that was born from all our forbearers together. And we know that
We own whatever will comes fleeting toward us.

In our clenched fists we hold hope and crush
The remains of past empires and privileges.


© 24 November 2013

The diseased roots have come to
lay bare. My fear so strong, this one thing secretly
paralyzing me, feigning it be a natural
friend or even the paper on the wall, written in
reflecting ink, permeating every part of me.

When time calls out for the necessity of my
bold action, I will run out into fire for another
but for myself, I hold no peace. So how can one

come out for other beings like this? It’s no

fact of toil, the lot befallen to us, all
the weary, is love. So when these hearts have the space
to call for justice, the lone world will tremble
from our contradictory bravery, unity in the
numbers, forsaken by only the giro templates.

If only this fear knew the strength I find
in lonely places, solely accompanied by sacred whispers
of revolution. How much we want it, I hear the call
in the night across the vastness.

The uncaring trees with pleading hands
will burn black, and the little birds fly free to
where fear no longer exists.


© July 28th, 2014

Sees the
trainwreck
coming, watches
it pass

by.

Over forgotten dreams... In which
a verdict could seem so
simple and beautiful, as the death that'd
ensue. Per guillotine, or

electricity, - merely the substance
that'd make my heart stop. A sig-
nature at the bottom of a sheet by which I
showed my keenness, for her.

On this day, that I could wish
for her wisdom, with the choice to go
or not. Therein I’d simply nothing to
lose; she couldn’t entice me. But a

hand holds onto me, so that I’ll not
become lost in the depths. And there’s the
face of the one who’s strung a cord into
my heart. In moments unprecious

to me I wished I could cut her, and so
be freed from this imprisoning pact
with this earth. To sink, and then after
the near drowning be lifted

out once more. With open eyes and mouth
the same. Rebirth through the water that kept
me confined at first. God, that there’ll be a
day that I don’t need it.

© 2006

The roundness of my fears, the despair
caught clinging under chains, how I could seem so
singular and solitary. My watery eyes gaze
up at milky grey skies. I can't

feel the weight of my
arms anymore. The pen I hold
hangs still with no intent but to

be in place, where I can see her. The
thoughts are cradled beyond that which
I can see in this space. In exposed symmetry,
they are staring, down

at the abyss. How I could fall, with arms
open wide to death and delivery. Then I’d
not have to think of this desolation that
comes over me, so deeply. I could be at one with

my peace and my pain. Never ending ties to
the earth as the air tries to lift me. Some bizarre
moment that I could detach, and fly through these
grim skies. They are my salvation and

my jail.

© 2006