i Keep rubbing my wrists and my forearms nervously anxiously and can
feel the tendons ache and the muscles on my left forearm snap back and forth: a (broken) guitar string slapping the frets every
time it is
strummed.  If i push on the muscles --or the string, perhaps there is no difference-- too hard my hand (goes numb) and the cord (chord)-like muscles seep exhaustion into my skin --forgive me for this. there is little i can do and big i can do but all i remember is everything
it starts small a little bit of pain but i know I will willingly take it for just

( a little bit of you )

infiltrating me I don't know why my legs ache and my skin fights against me I am grateful for You fighting for me grateful for me fighting for You

this has been full of change full of upside down i am proud of my START AGAIN abilities of my explore: drive anywhere you want GO GO mindset
but sometimes I ache. calling you nightly is
not enough but I promise to make it enough
to try to make everything you do
feel like more than enough

                                             i love when the sun is warm and it is cloudy and i get the opportunity to trip over you Accidentally or (not so accidentally). falling into tears every time I hear a symphony play-- perhaps there is no love in the world comparable to a
symphony or perhaps I am
sinfully biased due to my
experiences with symphonic beings

i Intend to live my life Running or dancinG with symphonies blossoming between my tender and temporarily not calloused
fingers and
with you and we
Constantly reinventing what it means to be Alive  
I will try my best ( for you and for Me) but
there is not
enough time

Dancesong soul your
gentle yet competent –oh so competent—
fingers are mesmerizing with
chipped baby blue nail polish
adorning the clear keratin
you often forget exists.

you also quickly cease to remember that
You Exist.  kaleidoscopic and symphonious
tremors of life can break
you in violent waves or soft
eucalyptus scented embraces
oscillating between ecstasy and
euphonious melancholy
is Okay.

raging with life
stay vivacious and full of
sweet scented oils and soft yet strong
--oh so strong—
unrelenting
music.

I can't walk in
flowered printed heels
I've watched you study yourself in
the mirror
steady neck leading down to
gentle shoulders and halcyon hands
sour ideas filling my brain I'm
imagining my hands
sweetening your concerned
soft-muscled legs
into certainty
bronze-brown strands of curly hair
on dark grey seats
I sense dancing trees behind me
and savor the beautiful bitterness
of abyssal secrets
on my saccharine tongue
your collar bones are silken
and veiled with Taurus-led
misunderstandings.
mine are always veiled with
uncertainty and
sporadically veiled with
you

spinning the words 'there is no god' in-between my reluctance laced breaths.  black high tops walking up to me with shoulders bowed slightly I wish you would walk tall.  knowing the end is inevitable makes things difficult but also powerful  in a way that makes -2 degree weather feel warm

happy ridiculous day to you and all of humankind.  I am confused at times to a level that I cannot always bear.  Death itself is mortifying.  Irony.  Laugh if you will but a full casket is emptier than a finished glass of water. I walked to the casket and I thanked her for her life.  "I'm sorry I never saw you.  But you never saw me either."

             sad that this death thing has ruined the us
funny: there is no god.  Goddess should capitalize automatically as well, but this male dominated society of humanity is ruled my a single perfect male.  Hey god hope your day is going well.

*an energy
you sing it wrong every time

I would like to give you a bouquet of flowers that I myself have created.         Drawn from the earth and filled with intense reasoning and reluctance, I would kiss myself into them.  Wrapped in a ribbon of black and left on your doorstep.  My mom shoveled dirt and was the only female THIS IS THE DIFFERENCE MAKING.  I was too weak this type of self-loathing is healthy. handing myself over to everything and nothing I know I will shatter.

    shattering for death unto death away from death.  stop writing about dying I'm still alive.  but how alive is alive?  

correct my grammar draw on my skin touch my bones until I am alive.  until the page is heavy with ink.

lying for freedom
is it acceptable to walk
my bare feet across the floor
is it acceptable to walk
my bare self up to you?

my pathetic mortality
etched into every groove of
my delicately built body
opiates dance around
my mind
take take take
choose your ****** I choose bare hands
on chests and
violin strings