Above
Below
Core
Dust
Every
Figure
Grieves
Helplessly
In
Juggling
Kneeling,
Lost
­Motivation
No
Opportunity
Plighting
Quite
Rigrously
Silthering
To­wards
Upper
Veins
Where
Xenophobic
Yarns
Zapping

©sim

I write with letters of the silent alphabet
the foreword is a short criticized page.
With my heart pounding and silence as my bed
I notice that my life will step to another stage.

I will not be a poet, I will just pretend
that I use noble and enchanted words
I'll write, but I'll be not famous at the end
I'm going to search for the emotions of verbs.

And the non-colorful muse with which I feed,
will be hiding in the comfort of billions of stars
will feel melancholy this entire universe of greed
my eardrums will have an echo of silence and scars.

e r r o r
i cannot function
the mistake is grave but I will not yeild
my life's a mess before I met her
but now it's messier
and even brighter
her mind's all over the place
my heart was once trapped in a cage
now we're here, let's cut to the chase
i can't make another error of waiting for too many days
i'll give her this raging beast,
so she keeps her mind in one place

b o l d
five letter name i do not even wish to write
the name of the guy she likes
and everyone knows because she is so bold
she has the guts to shout it to the world

d e m o n ' s  e y e s
dear her, cursed with scarce beauty
slitting throats with no pity
with one look you will plead guilty
guilty of bewilderment with her fierceness

a b r a s i o n
on her elbows and knees
on her missing soul and tainted heart
on the puppy that's been left behind

it was that night, not under her sleeves
so dim, i didn't see
the outcome of blissful events
not hidden yet unseen

We call it “a beautiful hand,”
the trace a practiced pen leaves
on its travels across the page.

Or a fine hand, whose sleight,
swift and surprising, makes
old letters new and delights

the dulled and scampering eye.
Swash and tail entice the reader
to look again, slow and consider

what it is that catches the breath
just where a spur leaves the stem,
or where the spine curves.

Men and women of letters learn
by inscription: the shape and space
of an O teases the mind

to a place just beyond reason. The S
summons us to a winding way and the T
offers a place to alight.  Alight

and watch the alphabet unfold
its thicket of veins and tendrils,
its solid declarations, its secrets.

BPAD
And
MDD
And
GAD
And
ADD
And
PTSD

And you wonder why I call my brain
Alphabet soup?

So many things
Going on in my head
And while I am astonished
That you love my insanity,
I am even more bewildered,
That you've somehow
Come across the parts of me
That are sane.

And I struggle from time to time
Finding bits and pieces
Of sanity
And putting it back together,
But you help
With casting light on those parts
More than you could ever know.

And I feel like
My chest is too tight
And like
My throat is closing
And like
I need to rip my heart out,
It's beating too fast.

But even on my worst days,
You still find ways to show
That you love me,
And I could never be more grateful
To you--

For holding me through anxiety attacks,
For wiping away tears,
For making me smile
When I forget that I can.

I know you hate when I thank you
For things you think you're supposed to do,
But no one before you
Wanted to.

And no,
Love can't heal my disorders.
But it sure does help me
Along the way.