Cast into an iron box
Shut and put away
Somewhere that no one knows
Might as well be in the middle of the sea
Or in another galaxy

You can claw at the walls
Until your nails are ******

You can scream for help
Until your voice turns hoarse

You can tell yourself that you'll be fine
Until the words don't make sense anymore

You can close your eyes and try to make it disappear
Until you don't know what is real:
    The darkness below your eye lids
    ... Or the Darkness around you?

You lie in there
Until you don't know

What is up and down
What is sound and silence
What is real and imaginary
What is alive and dead

Which is you and which is the Darkness

We used to talk about
going
to Montana--escaping it all,
building a log cabin and
making a garden.  We were
going to hunt and fish for
food--make rugs and
hats from the fur.

But look at us now.
You live in the
city and drive a Volvo.
Goldfish in a glass bowl.
You even taught your
cat to walk on
a leash.
Can you see the
sky with all the smog?

I'm not any better.
Living under the bridge;
the only hunting I do is
for cans, the rare and
illusive
aluminum nickel, so that
I can buy *****.  

I walk down to the
river's edge and look up at
the expansive sky.
I close my eyes.
And when I open them, baby,
we're in Montana.

the sky darkened and decomposed into the blackness
giving up a trail of reflections and thoughts
thoughts in mind, sleeping into tomorrow
thoughts waiting to be released into the light
ahhhhhhh
feels so delicious to allow new composition to escape

Brian Hill - 2020 # 225

A childhood of blackberry stained fingers and butterfly kisses
That turned into cigarette scented Sundays
Mondays alarm is hardly the birth of a phoenix
Everything is so loud
So you make playlists to block the days out
Talk to therapists so your voice drowns the sounds
Of hearts beating to the symmetry of structure
Evenings spent drifting through conspiracies
That put your mind in and out of ease

I have a shortcut, I can show you

Into a world of leaves
Your hair will tangle with the trees
The rain will batter you
Wet silk and scars
Mark promises on your legs
But smoky seasoned scrambled eggs
And a woodpecker at a pine
Is now your divine alarm clock
It will curve your mood
Become your instinct
You’ll be able to tell
When thorns become soft
You dress to un-impress
Ragged ankles of an empress
Enter your utopia

On carpets of brambles
To be danced above
A crumpled tent hosts
Seven sweet sisters
Fresh from the flames
Soul mates are on auction
Interviewed by ghosts
Who decide your wedding gown
You are never unqualified
Don’t let the cold get you down
Don’t let the past nourish you
The way you forget to let the sun do
Hidden in the woods
Branches block the dreams out
Climb to where the schemes rhyme
Disregard your sodden socks
The needles of a helpless hairbrush
Accept the untameable
As you stumble, wild
Your soles bare
You know your worth
Your place upon the earth
You curl up in the dirt
But there’s a nice view
And it’s a green that patterns the cosmos
Subsides the madman’s blood lust
It’s the eyes of your mother
And the scent of an absent lover
Let it cushion you

At least until Monday

Sleep was my one escape
To rest from thoughts of you
But in the land of dreams,
There, you haunt me too.

I did not know this was possible: to be in 2 places at the same time. I am here, still here but my heart is elsewhere. I am here, staying here but my heart's packed up and left a long time ago. My body sleeps with him at night but I look the other way. I have looked the other way and lied to myself for years and years, blinded so foolishly by a love so strong it ruined me. The truth is always the hardest pill to swallow, but I need to face my demons and the secrets I've kept if I want to move on. I am in 2 places at the same time. First, I am where I have to be-- a place that beckons me to stay and be strong and forgive over and over again. Second, I am where I hope to be-- a place of peace and contentement and if I'm lucky, maybe joy. The mind is so strong that it allows one to endure great suffering through unwavering willpower. How do wrongly incarcerated persons survive decades in prison? It is the idea of freedom and faith in justice that keeps them sane and alive. It is the hope that one day, their truth will come out and their liberty served that empowers them. This is how I feel. This is how I'm still alive.

You asked what am I?
I am just a bunch of unanswered questions which you always ignore and sideline!
Just a face to your questions,
from which you want to escape!