I don’t know who the girl is staring
back at me in the dusty mirror.
She is consumed by sadness,
fueled by bitterness,
enveloped by grief masqueraded as a
warm hug.

She exists merely to escape.

She keeps reaching for acceptance.
She is grasping at love,
pining for tenderness.
She screams hoping that someone hears her,
yet again, it goes unnoticed.
Her plea bargains unanswered,
petitions overlooked,
because that bottle cannot give her
what she so desperately seeks.




Only I can.

I always just let sleeping dogs lie.


B
u
t


if he just
soOoO happens to
awaken with a tail wag,


I might give him a treat.

Let’s go somewhere nobody knows our names.
How do I explain this feeling?
You are very warm in person,
but your ideas are harsh and severe.

You better go.
I’m beginning to like you.


What if we were soulmates,
who just met at the wrong time?
Of course it’s possible to love a human being if you don’t know them too well.
Brave birds still fly through fog.



Now we’re just strangers with memories…




“Told you so”, I whisper to me.

When the drunken stupor dissipates,
and haze clears from your eyes,
I pray that you find solace within
and hope it was worth our goodbyes.

Blue eyes, vacant, unsure, lost.
Our souls enmeshed
while shadows danced,
(clawed)
their way up the walls, through the ceiling.
That’s the last time I’ll ever get that high (again)
on drugs? Yeah…..right…...
(fat chance)
on empty words, impure intentions;
(destitute souls and cowardice pretending to be men)

I don’t want to remember,
this last month of November.
Gouge it from my eyes,
carve it off my lips,
scrub it from my soul.
You see,
the moon rests high,
while the tides pulled low
and waiting for that change
merely hardens the soft blow.

The rust on the chain lock
glimmered in candle light.
I latched it…
the very first time tonight.
No need for a visit or to be here
ever again.
Easier with me,
and harder without.
Harder with me,
impossible without.
The conundrum I must face.
The script of Wellbutrin,
and you’re avoidance,
like I’m a plague.


Lead the path of war, destruction, pillage, demise.
ConunDRUMS……

N
A
  T
   E
  
     could you play that beat one more time?
      Just like the cannon fodder fuel.
       *** vs. Kettle
        Jekyll v. Hyde
         bandage third degree burns,
          but you never were mine.
           This lifetime,
             this timeline,
               self sabotaged and deconstructed,
                left salvaging the pieces now.
Isn’t that what we both always wanted?