Little glass axolotl perfect
shades of pink and orange.
Found him at the thrift store
brought him home &
shone him up with some  
windex and a cotton cloth.
Now he sits on the shelf  
and sometimes I pick him  
up to marvel at the smoothness  
of his back, and the perfectly formed gills  
at the sides of his head.
My little glass axolotl  
is one of the things that
pulls me through papers  
with his tiny smile and  
teensy toes. This is love caught in
silica and pigment. Yes this
is what love is.

the glass broke through my skin,
piercing my heart over and over.
the agony brought me to my knees
as I carefully removed the shards.
the wounds sting, craving relief,
from a soothing, cool, light balm.
I slowly apply it, closing my eyes
as it enters the wounds on my heart,
bringing me comfort as I start to heal.

in the silence,
i can hear something is shattering,
but it’s not the glass,
from the table,
nor from the kitchen,
what is it?
its turning into dust and debris,
all over the place,
but blinded by eyes,
and silence at mouths.

Sight of mine dulled to nothing but red.
My aching fingers bleeding from the splayed out shards of glass.
Time and time again, this feeling will never truly fade.
The destruction that eases into every walk that I take.

The pent up pain that does not soothe
It only comes in waves of doubt and an ache that runs deeply through my body.
I can only sit in silence and wait for it to wash over  as the never-ending wrath bounces in the corners of the room.
No freedom found as I keep myself from lashing out.

My blood keeps dripping around my pooling ire.
To lock up such a monster that laps away at every upset and disappointment
There really is no telling when
The day it stops rocking back and forth the dark curtained bedroom I try to subdue it in.

The day my warm blood no longer satisfies the steely blue light that edges its existence.
And the way it bounces off of the crystal shards coated in crimson beneath my hands.
Alcohol has never truly worked for me as much as I wished it did.
What do I do when there is nothing I can do?

How will I cope when I can no longer keep from being violent?

-Kore

Let's raise a bitter glass,
Football's here at last,
And that's not all,
Teams do crowds enthrall,
From a victory,
****** defeat, you see,
No flag again this year,
Bitter glass, my dears,
Football's finally a'loose,
Pour that glass of bitter juice!

Mindlessly applauding
the torn for choosing right
denies the open weight felt
of them not choosing left

The ripping of blank paper
is heard in your
congratulations and affirmations

Giving pride that isn't yours to hold
remains unknowingly empty
Wrapped well
Recieptless

Let go of optimistic ear muffs
and bright yellow shades

Yeild.

Tugging left turns
misled me to the same stop sign
begging to be dismissed

Lost in a spiral,
in my own left turns,

not abandoned but alone

Despite being desperately sought,
these roads are different in the dark

No comfort or guidance
in this backpack made of bricks
with bricks too sharp for a stuffed bear,
bricks too large for a lamp

Concern and direction
slip through
the cracks and the bricks
in the deafening darkness

Left again,
just one more time

What shades am I wearing,
what muffs are mine
that instruction is muffled,
that care is shaded grey

Even still,
my lefts are my right
my right to make
and to hold
and to keep
and to breathe
and to bleed

Save your pride
and your rosey half-full glasses
Hold your applause
and the promise of a later okay

Acknowledge the bricks
I am carrying now

They are concrete

More so,
than the life you see
that might never live to be

Pigtails of plenty,
yellow scrunchies,
and purple plaid.

"You're only you,
I'm pleased as punch,
I'm only glad".

Peter Piper and Betty Botter
picked some peppers
and bought some butter,

Too many rhythms,
too many rhymes,
too much to say,
too little of time.

I hear not to run,
I'm asked what's the rush.
The more that I rush
and the faster I run,
the sooner I'll reach
my great big fun.

Shoe laces bug
big fun
they do.

"They do.

Your speech is peaches
your pace is pie
the space you use
is more than fine".

I try to explain
the colors I play;
going with guidelines
is only a game.
Skipping through gardens
of boxes that make
splendid presents
to open
and fun blocks
to break.

"They're only toys,
you're precisely right".

Meaning is found
in circles on paper,
when pencils make the path.
I see signs in the sky
and in my mind
that for others
seek to hide.
Sometimes it's first fantasy;
another time is reality

If you listen to me,
if you'll hear what I say,
you can learn to see colors,
and can stop seeing grey

"You're sight is unique,
you're special indeed,
but you aren't set apart,
left out,
or alone.

I believe".

The happiness I've found
I can't express.
Clapping
and stomping
and spinning around
aren't enough
to catch
the feelings I've felt.

"Your words aren't just sound,
they're a song to be sung;
felt by each
bringing glasses to sing
one by one,
to echo
to ring".

Every coin has two sides...

Aches that I feel
I can't explain.
Big tears have fallen
that haven't told you pain.
Sharper to chip,
heavier to break,
louder to shake
I wish they were.
They chip, break, and shake
but you can't feel my aches.
I can't explain what's real
when it's only felt inside.

"You don't have to stress about
why you feel what you feel.
There might not be a why
but it's fair and it's real.

I know how hard
it is to live here,
for you to allow,
but it's not forever,
it's only for now".

I promise to slow down
I'll be quieter I swear
I won't reach higher than my height
I won't choose left over right
Believing without sight
is for children not my height
I'll draw squares that are not round
and play games you'll understand
with children on the playground
not alone in this box of sand

"You promise every year to be shy,
to not run,
to not trip,
to not cry big cry's.

This year promise to be you,
to wear plenty of pigtails
with purple plaid
with yellow scrunchies

with some breaths unallowed.
Like the breath that lives
between a sentence
wasting time
if only for an instant.

Jimminy Crickets
and Holy Cow,
I know.

Even though it's hard,
although you're awfully sad,
try to love this special you;
it's the only you to have
and to hold
and to hug
right now.

I'll skip with you
and hold your hand.
I'll hear your words,
the one's unsaid.
I'll sit by you

and be your friend.