Spiral of iron, blinded eye. The rage
and the cold and the colossus sing.
Thunderous ghosts tread the wheat and the rye, ageless
these torrents and the ire they bring.

Calamity drifting, flood in the sky. The storm,
the storm will unmake you and me.
Lost to the water, strangled. Soaked.
Bones are the feast for the roots of the trees.

Cities extinguished, the stars burn alone, beyond
sight, beyond reach. The tempests play:
drown the mountains, the temples, the stories, the songs.
The water is rising, our verge is a wave.

When they say my name I hope you hear waterfalls; my face flooding your entire brain. When you hear my name I hope you think of glass breaking and you picture my hands, scratched and bleeding, putting it all back together again. When you say my name, I hope you hear laughter. I hope you see smiles. And despite all my countless flaws, I hope you think of me when you want someone to stay awhile. When they say my name I hope it reminds you of breaking and healing all in one breath. When you think of me I hope you feel warm. I hope I’m someone you never regret.

My eyes are flooded with tears unshed,
My mouth overflowing with words unsaid.
Words of happiness and tears of sorrow,
Are threatening my vision of the morrow.

My heart is empty, numb, and dull,
My brain a desolate prison cell.
No temptation, incentive, motivation,
Could ever get my heart to feel emotion.

The ceaseless creaking of my bed,
The endless wonderings of my head,
As I toss and turn at night,
Debating whether I should want the light.

My thoughts flow, words
My dreams come and go, script delay
My hands touch, hoping they stay
Letters curve so slightly, sensual
Serifs barely touch, hesitate
Testing the boundaries of space, flirting
Lyrics weave my tousled hair, joining sound waves  
Make their way in, touching me
Coursing alongside my thin veins, pressure
Fall swiftly down my arteries, suggestively flood my soul

I will give you a list houses
that once used to be my home
and addresses that are the only memory
that has not been blurred
or manipulated by my mind.
If you ever want to find me,
go there.


You will see the line of trees that
framed my sunrise
and almost dry riversbeds of
round white stones, where
I slipped once (or more).
You will see the duststorms,
and the heavy rains
I stood in.
You will see the the intersections,
I could never quite cross.
But all this you see,
is not me.



If you want to find the ‘me’,
‘me’ that I do not know of,
that I cannot give you,
go there.
And look for windows I sat by.
Look for the cold floor I lied on.
Sit there and think of a girl
who never felt quite like a person,
who could look at what lay ahead
and know
that neither the path, nor the journey was hers.
Who only wanted a room flooded with
gentle light of drowning sun,
and songs that could make her sadness beautiful.

I have notebooks soaking
up my emotions-
Hoping,
no one see's the flood.

The feeling of butterflies in your stomach.
The feeling of losing your breath..
and stumbling to find words
feeling clumsy in every movement in their presence.

I'm my own person.
I'm not shy.
I don't get feelings.
I'm not short of words.
I don't get emotional.
I don't get feelings like this.

But feelings are like rain.
You can be in a drought and miss it like hell
..or..
you can forget what it's even like to have water.
But when it comes it floods.
You remember how beautiful the sound of rain is.
How it toys with your insides and makes you feel a roller coaster of emotions.
It makes you feel comforted and at peace
yet its dark and makes you feel alone.
It consumes your thoughts.
It has it's own intentions that you may never know,
it's mysterious and ever changing as it thuds on your rooftop so that all you can hear is its presence then within seconds disappears and when you look outside it's only evidence of existence is the puddle running down the road to disappear like it was never even there.

It is the feeling of love.
You can't control when it comes
you never know how long it will stay but ******* it it's all you can think about when it's here.

But this isn't my first storm.
While I should be dancing in the rain I never forgot the burn of the last storm.
The lightening struck and everything that was, never was the same.
Within a blink of my eye the rain was gone and I spent years trying to recover from the damage it left.
It ruined the curiosity of what each storm entails.
Instead of dancing in the rain I hide from it.
It's hard to let something overtake you when you don't know it's intentions or how long it will stay.

But you can't avoid rain forever.
It feeds and rejuvenates the world.
It gives life to the plants and makes them oh so vivid and colorful.
It washes away the past and gives light to the sun.
I just need to find the storm that always stays with me for the return of the sun.