the world is too bright.
i am blinded by false smiles and laughs strained to reach that falsetto note.
that preconceived notion that paradise of the land brings paradise of the mind.
sand is still sand, and water is still water,
less we quantify their quality by purity and color.
sand is still sand and water is still water,
and i am still me.

the world is too bright,
so i filter it into sepia tones gentler to the mind's eye and swim to where the water meets the clouds.
i am drowning,
but not from the ocean's relentless caresses,
but from the world's relentless stresses:
beauty that is measured and calculated,
saturated with standards that burn like the sun and are as intangible as its rays,
a paradise built on sand as quick as it is to judge.    

so i swim to where the water meets the clouds.
where the water is still water,
and i am still me.

a red velvet cupcake wrapper casts shadows on the desk while
abandoned crumbs still cling to a dainty mouth.

a rose dress worn by rosy cheeks and some pink thighs,
pink thighs that stay petite to match that flawless, porcelain stomach.
a stomach he wants to grab, and pull, and hold.
fleshy lips and rough tongues.
pleasure on the lips, on the hips, on the tips
of the fingers
that intermingle, and intertwine
that trace the perfect buds of a budding girl.

stark white snow ******* the life out of the frozen ground.
stark white sheets ******* the life out of men.
gloves that come in neat little packages signifying
love?
lust.
trust?
a gift given that can never be returned.
she can never return.
yet the bumping and thrusting and heaving continue.
sweet smelling sweat and sultry sighs.
roses are not innocent.
they conceal thorns, they draw blood.

blood the color of the last remains of a cupcake,
frosted with secrets and assumptions.
a pleasure on the lips, but
never on the hips.

I found her near a large Oak in the woods,
Not far from where that old cabin stood,
She was sputtering blood and not far from death,
I hadn't much water, but I gave her what was left,
Her eyes so weary and the purest black,
I felt heartless and wondered what her attacked,
Her wounds malicious and so very deep,
Yet she didn't convulse or even weep,
The Sun was almost rising then,
I wondered what compelled such men,
She had been, the passed night, all alone,
I knew all she wanted was Home,
And slowly her eyes went right to mine,
At that moment, I knew inside,
I watched every ounce pass from this life,
I sat there, pathetic, wondering if I could cry,
I heard her last painful and drowning breath,
She heard, like a gavel, my passing steps.

Fear of happiness.
Fear of distress.

Why are they so similar?
And why are you so familiar?

I won't run away,
if you tell me to stay.

I won't mind your habits,
I will love you to bits.

Please accept that you are beautiful.
And know that I am a complete fool

for you, alone.
Do you hear me moan?

And do you see me??
You have to believe me...

There is a symbol in my eyes,
wider than the skies.

devour me.
eat me until there's nothing left
but a hollow shell and heavy
breathing.
cast me to the side,
tears stained black,
thoughts fuzzy and a bad taste to
the tongue.
skin tearing, lungs collapsing,
just breathe.

the world spins,
falling, falling,
crashing.
heads on fire,
eyes diverted.
quick, silent footsteps across rotting ground,
dark rooms and dank air.
words that tumble and jumble,
roll out of the mouth before they can
be put back into their iron cages.

**** on my insides until theres
nothing left,
but a wondering as to what comes
next.

just breathe.

the sun comes up.
my demons are put to rest.

It's not the rain
that makes my eyes wet.
It hasn't rained in forty days.
Nights are long and quiet.
The silence cuts to bone.

It wasn't rain that quenched the fire.
It hasn't rained in forty nights.
The well is dry... so am I.
Nights I sit in silence
while it rains.

r ~ 4/19/14