You are beautiful and I am not.
We are the habits of our forefathers.

We can choose to forget them, let them
Drain away like sand through glass,

Distant dust of history. As much as we try
To remember, desire is stronger than memory.

Sometimes I turn to sculpt soft clay,
Loose and stark in my hands.

And then I abandon the mess. I should keep
My fingertips stained red for effort.

I remember dreaming a vision:
Heroine of my own story,

Walking the grey beach in winter,
Projected far into the future when I might realize it.

Clay does not sculpt itself.
Prayers go unanswered. Here

I dwell in my own lit house,
Multiple yellow lights

Floating in the dark, mirror for
The starry night that I might see.  

We’re the only species with
Wings on our feet. We’ve molded

Paper into something precious.
Currency of kings. Gold origami.

Honeyed words remain my nectar.
Rome is a daylong process that is for ever.

To shape is a practice
Known by time and being,

That I may become a living embodiment.
That I might find grace in a raised arm, a bent leg.

That I might see myself through a filter of love.
That I might remember there are no

Comparisons.
That we are beautiful for our very selves.

Crime and other violent thoughts are at an all time low,
What exactly happen the evening of December

I was brushed upon,
I was sought after,
There were muggers and muggles,
And I saw my life flash

Déjà vu but still a feeling foreign,
Those eyes were distant
Weapons-- uncommon
I've seen those eyes before,

They are eyes I've longed for
My protector, those are eyes of my Prophet
My savior
guardian and princess of the Serengeti

Cling to uncertainty and name you Visual

i don't want you to be
my knight in shining armour.
i want you to be my trusty
sidekick,
loyal and supportive as you
watch me learn and grow,
letting me save myself

                         l.r.

All that I hear are the violins
Oh, the sound
I feel everything stop and slowly pick up speed but not enough when I hear the most beautiful vibrato
I look up at the moon every night it is full or almost
And when I do all the voices rush into me
The slander doesn’t belong with me
Not when I feel this good
But here it is
I wonder if I will or already am used to it
I let myself feel the ******* pain and cut deeper
Except
There is no wound and there is all the more noise
And it never seems to stop
I just see night and I cry so hard
My chest has bruises
For my heart has found a way to let me know it exists
I’ve never been so aware in my entire being
Love is not a myth

" Should of taken acid with you, glued our tongues and become undone "

Should of taken ecstasy with you, discover aspects of euphoria you were always afraid to touch//

Should of taken ******* with you, become one with the worldly elements, talk to the sun as if the same blood ran within//

Should of taken shrooms with you, allow your toxic thoughts to breath along side the explosive stars//

Should have ...
but didn't.
So now, I will suffer withdrawals of your destructing presence.