A wise man once said, "Water always wins."
     He's right.
For a long time I didn't know what you were.
     What you still are.
I never really thought about it. But now I know.
     You're water.
I did so well in the beginning. You were only a drizzle.
I carried my umbrella those first few days. But I must
have lost it along the way.

I ignored the raindrops for awhile, but you were
a force of Nature.

It began to pour, and you covered me.
You seeped into my very core, infecting
me like the Waters of MARS.

You were patient and persistent. You penetrated
my foundation, ripped open cracks, rotted the wood.
     And what's a body or soul with decaying support?

Water waits. Water cuts through mountains, carving canyons.
     You cut through me to make this.

What am I now? An eroded frame of what I once was?

That piece of mountain that you washed away, where
did it end up? Is it with you now?
      Can I stand without it?

Have you left a deep crevice, a permanent scar?
Have you ruined me forever, or can I still be
     as beautiful as the Grand Canyon?

a darker shade
embraced my shadow
and sew smiles out of my lips that he hung
on my mouth like the red-white bracelets
we give each other
each March
(somewhere far away from here)

I do not write,
I am spilled out on a page
like that time I got drunk on an empty soul
and vomited behind a dozen loves
on dog-****** snow

I am faulty
for I am an inhalation of the wind
and for

I fell from

love

into him

the tip of my fingers itch
and my eyelashes quiver like images of leaves
in water

Why did he decide
to make me part of his dream?

Why did I decide that these lines
are written for him?

How enticing
the scent of woman,
that often quite forbidden fruit.

----------0----------

That morning smelt of ***
and its dew
trickled thinly down my throat.

----------0----------

The silence filled the air,
and drowsy,
I listened to that lullaby.

----------0----------

Noise in the form of jazz.
Beneath my boot
the crunch of dry mud memories.

The child inside me awakens first.
She's too excited to sleep any longer.
She sees the light crack through the blinds
and a glimmer of excitement begins to flicker inside her.
A new day already?

But the adult in me soon follows, swinging heavy feet over the edge of the bed,
rubbing bleary eyes.
The child drags her along, pointing to the morning sun,
telling her,
Look, look! Another day, another day!
She looks, humors the kid.
Seeing the sun again makes her nauseous.
The adult in me yawns, makes the coffee,
stares in the mirror for a bit too long. Considers getting back into bed.

The child in me wonders every night, what good will tomorrow bring?
The adult in me does not wonder. Stopped wondering long ago.
She knows exactly what tomorrow will bring.

The child wishes all the time that she could be awake.
The adult begs all the time for the world to let her sleep.
They are both crying this morning.
We are both crying this morning,
because today is exactly what half of me
expected it to be.

i always fidget with my itches
then itch raw with each digit
of the rigid way we squirm with
words we feel to be explicit

but rearranged we're indifferent
without the frame we're elicit
no stopping shame that exhibits
the way your brain always listens

even in pain it's persistent
you can't prohibit the accident
of unwitting existence
don't say sorry to the superstitious fiction
stay judicious

just ease your mind with the lyrics
and grind the grass to find distance
don't mind, the path meets resistance
the system we're in's nonexistant
i'll build a fire ladder for each fallacy
and scale every rhythm

just cleaning out all desire
mind going off like a piston
mankind don't need this fine attire
but the dior keeps us christian
not built to feed to designers
only a liar does glisten
yet we find ourselves requiring
our own kind of inquisitions

in addiction and prison
a shiny label don't listen
so without your permission
i'll find my own set of prescriptions

One of my most treasured talents
Is my ability to at once be passionate
And jaded.
I can write you prose that drips with longing,
Love,
Ardor,
But if tomorrow you walk away from me,
I will have quietly, calmly
Expected it the entire time.

no calm inside me
bombs arise me
i long for peace
but it denies me