A wisp of sound scatters through the thick air,
In tatters, it climbs itself into my head and nestles,
A bird soul evicted of its body, blind and screaming,
Its skin torn red and raw and too alive;
My arms turn useless, as it stretches out and out
And finds my legs, large and dumb and too much,
But it will do, it will do as it continues to stretch and
Stretch in search of feathers and dust. There is a pause
At my hair; it runs with the wind and briefly its hands
Outstretch to its hair and contemplates a familiar lustre,
Black and shining and soft, but no strain of limbs come
And in frustration, pulls like plant vines.
It continues to search and search, but there is no freedom
Written in my back, no wings outstretched to the wild skies.
And no matter how much it beat its sharp little beak,
There was no flight to be found.

I was grieving in September
I felt loss
the sky was empty
without summers abundance of life
there will be no more aerial displays
swooping birds on the airstream
feasting on unaware flies overly engaged in their own ceremonies of the sky
high spirited flight, with purpose such a magnificent sight
I was grieving in September
for the swallows had gone
left for another’s warmth
another’s ability to provide
but they will return
they always do
to the white cracked home
in need of repair from winters effect
together making the home as new
and bringing new life to celebrate
and I will watch in awe
as they learn the sky dance of their parents
these thoughts
And the promise of their return
keeps me warm
as I settle into winters cold

windows down.
open road.

scene
stark night, moonlight contrast.
stars: the watchers: no passing cars to block
the path to oblivion.
                                                       ­                             /fly/

arms spread wide, wind whipping
ripsrustlesslipsslidesslices
unfurled fingers cutting
ribbons in the fabric of the atmosphere.

acrid scents of city pollution fuse
with mown grass and night dew and waking trees:
a cocktail served through the nose over the breeze--
                                                        ­ fresh air in a dead man's lungs.

here is life lived on high
giddy wheeling 85 and 90
not a soul in sight
enveloped in the music
dazzled by the starlight
drunk on speed
delighted
dizzy to
die.

*this is release

You wake up in the middle of the night and
You realize that the person next to
You is not
Your co-pilot anymore and that even though
You are flying in the same direction,
Your destination might not be the same.

You realize that
You are in parallel planes,
Your former “co-“ is now a grown-up pilot who wants to push all the buttons that
You wouldn’t wanna push, who decides to leave
You hanging in the sky, without
Your safety net or parachute.

The world is full of pilots,
but few good co-pilots.

Through dreamy landscapes
Mind travels
Between god
And the sky
My spirit revels
In new found freedom
Thought flight
Now safe
The barbed wire gone
No longer am I snagged
Upon the electric strands
Of fear
That held me
For so long.

n.*  hy•po•thal•a•mus -ˈthal-ə-məs\
: the part of the brain that controls fight or flight responses

September 23rd
The first time our eyes met
Travelling across the room
Not knowing that those were the same eyes
That could **** me with a smile

December 28th
I found out that you wrote
And ****, that was hot
Your words that got me hooked
Were the same ones that cut my strings

February 14th
We were nothing close to lovers
Not even bestfriends
But I somehow felt less lonely
Talking to you everyday

April 8th
The beginning of heat
And I think I barely noticed
Because the thought of you
Makes blood rush to my cheek

June 19th
The start of school
And the start of the drift
Or maybe it was just stress?
I hung on to our conversations

July 31st
You talked about this new girl
And how she was pretty
And funny
And everything I wasn’t

August 17th
We haven’t talked in 2 weeks
Not like you noticed much
All you cared about was her
I'm starting to miss you
Alot

September 27th
I was in Biology
I studied the hypothalamus
And how it controlled
The fight or flight response of our body

September 27th
I was studying the hypothalamus
And learned that the body has a natural instinct
To detect danger or warning
Thus activating the hypothalamus

September 27th
I was studying the hypothalamus
And **** who gave you the right to walk in my mind
I was studying the hypothalamus for God’s sake how does this even relate to you?
I saw you in everything
A notebook – Cos you write
Coffee – because you loved it
The Fault In Our Stars – because you hated it
Pictures of New York – because it was your dream
My playlist – because you made it
My jacket – because it smells like you
My little sister – because she looks for you
My mother – because she still makes your favorite dinner whenever you visit
The flowers on our porch – because you planted them
Hot Pockets – because you despised them
But **** never did I expect to see you in a hypothalamus

September 27th
People don’t come with warning signs attached to their necks
And even if our body has a natural instinct to detect danger
People like you, know just the right things to say or do to trick my body into thinking you're good for me
You know my passcode, how to get through my walls
So all this time I’ve been wondering
Where was my hypothalamus, if I even had one
Why didn’t it warn me
To flee your arms before I got entangled in your words,
Before I sunk in the quicksand of your charm
Why wasn’t I warned, to fight or flight, before I got hurt this bad?
Why wasn’t I warned of the danger that was you.

'When I come of age, I shall soar astray,'
With wings, there could be no other way.
'I shall close my eyes; my wings spread,'
'To build my nest away from my home,' she said.

When in the stead of hands, wings would emerge
Her fantasy and reality would seamlessly merge.
Oh how she longed to see the world,
To never turn back; goodbyes unfurled.

When she finally did come of age,
She could hardly hold back tears of rage
With longing the new wings of others she spied,
As they flew far away she stared, wide eyed.

'I have come of age, and I must stay.'
Without wings, there could be no other way.
'I shall close my eyes; my hands spread,'
'To build my nest within my home,' she said.