Eyes on fire, sweating into sunken sheets.
You begin from the hair,
Lighting me like a candle.

I stare.

What are these morphing molecules of madness
Annihilating my arteries with their acid?
Now you surround me with sun-bright gasoline;
Set bedroom walls into stars.

I am the center.

Ingredients
For a cure:
A match,
A cry,
And a crow
For after, to screech and crawl into the holes
Of my cindered body.

Let the rest disintegrate into the dirt that
From the foundations of our home, has
Drunken our despair and disgrace for far too long.

Slipped into internal madness
Can you hear the mime speak?

Street light flickered fifty times
**** the crickets? chirps no more

Greed and violence seeks all pain
Black butterflies fall to the ground

Brick stained walls swallow me whole
Mercy is the scorned woman sober

Identity mistakes visual sight
Wake up from swollen fist of the ape

Fly through the silver and black wires
Fear gripped reality slapped stupid

I think about the number of faces I see each day
and the number of faces I forget.
and the number of strangers who see my face each day
and the number of strangers who forget me.

I think about how easy it is to literally just pass by
and how many people live their lives simply
passing by one another, passing one after another
and how many people forget and how many remember.

I think about how many faces there are in this world
and how many faces I can sincerely say I know

When it's October 12th-
When it's a sunny Sunday afternoon
In the fall
When you're curled up in your comfiest sweater
Next to a purring cat curled up in his
And you sit in front of the bay windows of your home
Watching the clouds and cars and wind roll by
Carrying burning yellow leaves
In the updrafts.

When you want something,
but you don't know what.
Maybe it's a want to want,
misplaced in hopes of filling
the ever-present void in you.
Maybe it's happiness.

Maybe it's as close as you'll ever get.

Either way,
Maybe it's enough.

By Arcassin Burnham




maybe i was wrong once before,

maybe i was wrong once before but,
she was,
the only thing to keep me from going insane,
i fly near the night,
telling myself,
what more can i gain,
to think it would ever change,
the heartaches and the pain,
and people forget your name,
but she didnt,
learning all the secrets,
and the foul plays,
with all the cruel intentions,
from the south,
it stays,
remember when i told you that i was a shy kid,
remember that the only thing i was,
was quiet,
remembering all the stupid stuff i did,
and when i did it ,
you were still there,
smooching and planting kisses,
you very ******,
and couldnt tell anyone about it,
if your not anymore,
i really doubt it.



when i met you,
my heart was beating like drums,
and when i met you,
kisses deeper than it was,
you made me,
flee every scene,
just to meet you,
i swear to the lord,
that i wouldnt never leave you,
very loyal,
you were,
love cross the stars and the earth,
and the rhymes that i made for you,
reading wouldnt hurt,
remembering you changed my mind on alot of things,
when i didnt believe,
i saw the light,
you bring,
and when the sun is down,
neon lights are my passion,
wishing i could have the power,
to be in your position,
under your bed,
in your closet,
under your sheets,
in your bathroom,
reading the diary,
saying i was sweet,
but not knowing they will be ripped out soon,
and i hate it,
maybe i was wrong once before,
this feeling cant be shaked,
but its something i just cant ignore,



guess my prediction,
was right,
she called me on the phone,
and said she was done,
without saying goodbye,
plots been thickening,
the whole entire time,
too bad for suspense,
when you fall out of line,
i mean,
a few arguments here and there,
wouldnt be worth anyones time,
but the thing you have to see is,
you were out of line,
said some things you shouldnt have said,
leaving her crying out,
walk out the door,
and think you have it all figured out,
put your insecurities behind,
lead a new chapter,
will it all be the same,
like it really matters,
i told her it was all because im not satisfied,
what kinda drugs that i was on,
telling her that lie,
but she still cries,
and i still lie,
its like were not,
in love alot,
shes talks to me,
as if shes not,
and i dont care,
im all i got,
is she keeps screaming at the top of her lungs,
breaking my eardrums,
so away,
i run,


if it wasnt for me,
she wouldnt be like this,
what does a man have to do,
to get one more kiss,


if it wasnt for me,
she wouldnt be like this,
what does a man have to do,
to get one more kiss,

she was
she was
she was,

Part 3 should have been the understatement,
of what love is,
you shouldnt play with feelings,
you work so bad to get,
some people say this alot,
if the shoe fits,
what ever floats your boat,
or a hit-or-miss,
a mister should always have a miss,
forever love will survive,
if noones alone like this,

She was
She Was,
SHE WAS.

My fingers itch in so many ways—
They wish to touch the stars;
They long to play my soul's heartsong,
And strive to sketch my scars.

Writing is an Art
so many people say
Selection of the words
arranged in such a way.

These words are there for all
not just for the select few
and we all have a choice
to arrange them as we do.

It's not a thing to rush
but don't take to much time,
to start just write them down
before they leave your mind.

Then we can take some time
now they are down on paper
To edit as we wish
which can also be a caper.

So many words we chose
as we move our words our way
but we find to smooth it out
that we're throwing most away.

We want our characters
to have unique temperaments.
so that when the story is read out
the audience cements.

If we can't get that bond
with our writing it may taper
but we can play around at will
as long as it's put down on paper.

About how many times  did you had to go back and click that "edit" button?

You may constantly edit your poem but
You won't always be able to edit your life.



Copyright© Cynthia Ulloa
All rights reserved.