Eyes transfixed, care to take a second look
Lies spill like oil out of the picture book
See the ever present glazed look in her gaze
The levels of misery just might amaze

The smile superglued onto a falling face
This plastered image in a foreign place
A trick of light, my love, and that is it
Photographed half-truths, often edited

Bind them together, for a story we must fabricate
Smash the window to see the masterpiece we make
Distort and contort a slump into paradise
Hear the people wish for a second they had your life

Look back on smiles and then upside down
See the dull eyes behind the makeup of the clown
The lights are on, my dear, paint on a pretty face
So we can reminisce fondly of the happy fakes

I watched a live band
yesterday
my stomach churned
against its empty walls
digesting emptiness
and simply
feeling human
....again

With a voice
so mellow
it mesmerized
hypnotized
the murmurs
to a silence

A marriage of strums
carried feelings
embraced
every stander
with a certain warmth
that reaches the heart
I heard my friend say
"they make fall
in love with myself"
how delicate of a statement
to float amidst
the dark space
dancing with their voices

Something pure
was taking place
and as an audience
we have longed for
such a feeling
so foreign
to carry us a bit closer
to our very core
reminding us
that it's possible
for a heart to smile
to prove that
innocence does
still exist

"Who are they?" I asked
"Waynick" she said

Yes I am clingy,
But you will never find someone
There for you like I will be.

Yes I am needy,
But when you need reassurance
I’ll be full of soothing words.

Yes I am jealous,
But you will never find someone
More loyal than me.

Yes I am possessive,
But you will never find someone
That values you like I do.

Yes I have flaws, I am human. Please don’t fault me for loving the way I do.

lost little girl decides she can't stay
lost little girl stands and runs away

lost little girl gets scared all alone
lost little girl can't be on her own

lost little girl returns to her house
lost little girl as meek as a mouse -

lost little girl finds a thing called 'love'
lost little girl feels it rise above

brave little girl found not 'house' but 'home'
brave little girl has no more need to roam -

her body;

i refuse to compare it to another 60's                                      
                      ­                                   cliché.
she's not a movie, not a painting.
not a flower.
not a galaxy.

she's unique enough
to be called
         a
            river
                   of
                       her
                             own

because her body is made from the same matter clouds are made of.
mountains, oceans, fields cannot compare, to the pretty girl
with the curves
that could drown you
or make you
                              float


away, she is nicotine,
she is the balloon that guided my dreams
she leaves and i do too
wherever she goes i will follow.
a quest to look for the very strengh that belongs in the core of her eyes.

if she could only see
the way she looks to me.

when I began to write
poetry
all those years ago

I was amazed to find
that I even
had a voice.

It was a gift
that I never
hoped for.

I only shared light.

There is too much
darkness.

And then
little by little
I had to write
about the monsters
in the deep.

And my writing
got to be
unrecognizable.

Those couldn't be
my words.

Don't bury me
in a grave
in a big old box
I've known too much
darkness.

And so here I am
trying to balance
injury
with hope for a new future

That may be called
healing.