When I was a child,
I fondly remember
eating carrots from 
the dirt of our garden.

My brother, my sister, and I
would pull the carrots,
with great care, from
the dirt of our garden.

We would wash them
sometimes in the sink,
sometimes with the hose,
to remove the dirt of our garden.

But even then
as we chewed those carrots
we could still sometimes taste
the dirt of our garden.

After our 3rd 16-hour shift we skipped down the gravel road in the 4 am dusk holding still numb hands
hysterically laughing about a snowman made of ****** fish ice and decorated with intestines
to our room of splintered walls and sand infused beds.

Drunk on sleep deprivation and the movement of the conveyor belts
Fiona demanded of the 4 am twilight that our work be easier tomorrow
I told her that tomorrow could always be the hardest
she told me that I’m Eeyore because my contemplation always looks a bit like pessimism.

A week later I stuck my finger in the pus filled lesion of a salmon
and worried that I wasn’t existing well enough
I asked Fiona if she thought we were more ourselves dressed in layers of sleep deprivation
She cut 3 tails and stated that we must experience more life when we’re awake for 18 hours a day.

This place had forced the clean carefully constructed versions of ourselves to collapse
but she didn’t want this coarse damp translation of humanity to be what we intrinsically are.

Water and pink slime slid down my rain gear as I processed her words and the fillets sliding by
60 salmon later she spoke again
“You said once that every person you meet has some sort of impact on your life.
Maybe you’re always you but never the you that you were before this moment
because who we are is infinitely changing
we won’t always be grime.”

Write my name up in the sky
Let me fly way up high
Instead of always the painful cry
To lose the feeling of wanting to die

I'm tired of living in the dirt
Everything down here just hurts
With the Devil is who I flirt
He's wanting desperately for me to convert

I want my broken wings to mend
If not a smile, I at lest deserve to grin
But I've been covered in to much sin
To ever see my happy face again

All I ask is for a day
For things to simply not go array
For things to just for once go my way
If only I in my life I had a say

Just one day out of a lifetime
To simply be all in a line
For everything to be fine
For everything to fall in sink and rhyme

But if my past has taught me anything
Is there will never be a reason to sing
For the future only misery will bring
Still stuck in lifes boxing ring

I keep getting knocked down, knocked out
I keep trying different routes
After all these years all I have is doubts
To battered and bruised to get up, all I can do is shout

But just one single day, a short 24 hours
Where I don't lay in bed and cower
Just one day to bloom and flower
To escape from this locked tower

But I know thats to much to ask
I should just relax
In this darkness I will continue to bask
Just let me pull back down my mask

I learned the difference
Between grime
And dirt,
At a very young age.
That they can be different
Yet look the same under the fingernails
Of a child.
I hid them,
Bit them,
For I knew what would come if I was not neat.

Disapproving glances at my mother,
How dare she raise such an animal.
Disappointing looks at me,
I never could scrub my nails enough
For the clean to stain.

Don't be fooled by these **** offs that you're their gold.

There once was a woman
Who had three daughters
The eldest, Rain, was often moody, but always caring
The middle child, Sun, was cynical and hot-headed
The youngest, Wind, was free spirited, but often clumsy and careless

There once was a woman
Whose three daughters ran away
They ran
Until they could run no more

Then they lay on the forest floor
And melted into the dirt
Never to be seen as little girls again

There once was a man
Who loved a woman
Who loved three girls
Who melted into the dirt

There once was a couple
Who cried when it Rained
Who screamed when it was Windy
and who sobbed when it was Sunny

There once was a couple
Who simply gave up
And melted into the dirt

Hello.

Welcome to my poem.
I would like to introduce you to
a few words of mine.
The words come from my mind.
       I can't remember where my mind found them
Like a friend, they comfort me,
grow me, make sense of me.

My mind is open. Step on in now.
Come in, have a seat,
   the words will be home shortly.
Be sure and take your shoes off
and close the door,
        we wouldn’t want to let any dirt in.

You and I talk for a while. We share a few
   words of our own.

There is a quick, heavy knock at the door,
the first word barges in.
Slightly rough, tired and stressed, comes up,
shakes the hand.
“Hello, I am Fear”
So Fear comes in and sits.
We talk for a while. Share a few more
words of our own.
Then another knock at the door. A hesitant tap, like
someone was left behind.
Fear says “oh, thats my Of”
Fear yells at the door to “come in
and close the door and take your shoes off,
keep the dirt out.”

So we all sit and pass around
some words now.
It’s taking a while though.
It’s almost nightfall, and there
is one more word.

The sun is going down. Moon in the clouds.
A Word loud, roaring closer and closer.
A growing Light ending in my eyes.
A Light entering through the windows of my mind.
"Come in Come in!"
Such glorious Light. My door is open.
The knock is loud. From every direction.

Of is curled up in the couch.
"Fear" just ****** on the white carpet.
This knock will never end.

The door opens.

"Of" pulls it together, brings "Fear" to its feet.
Both "Fear" and "Of" stand to welcome this Word at the door, and together,
like a friend,
they comfort me,
they grow me,
make sense of me.
The last Word comes and sits with me.
All sharing words with the
"Fear Of God."

Don't bury me in the dirt
A place for grass , spring flowers and trees
Nor slip my body overboard
There's too much trash at sea
Don't burn my remains
I'm against air pollution you see
Just send me down the road
Make fertilizer out of me

Broken walls and cracked beams,
remind me of the cracks in the trees.
Everyday is just another game,
but nothing is the same.

Silhouettes dance in the clouds,
crashing into each other, so loud.
They shine down on me with shame,
but nothing is the same.

Blisters and tears in my skin,
invite the Devil to come in,
blood and dirt both look the same.

Every word is another temptation,
I'm just trying to find salvation,
some things never change.