though a storm can reveal a tree’s roots.
their essence remains.
through the soil, through every crevice.
a home is still a home.
no matter how far it moves.
no matter how fast and far time moves.
the eyes learn different than hearts.
the body reacts. soon lost in the gaping hole
backfilling a testament with everything tangible.
hearts like tree roots.
grow and they twist, and they turn.
they will always be there.
my heart seeks to learn from yours.
growing big and thick.
though a storm can reveal a tree’s roots.
very seldom, does it remove every root.
beneath the skin, where my heart and yours exists,
layer after layer of dirt blessed by the gift of life.
no matter how much the storm rages.
a piece of you and I will always exist

it is your birthday today, the first man to show me
there are layers to masculinity and femininity
and each layer you kissed
today I am led to reminisce
funnily enough, I still dream about you
you were the only healthy thing I ever liked
you were the only man who ever did me right
You washed me clean of my trauma and make me shine like pearls
I dreamt you met my momma and you kissed my curls
but you are happy now and I am too
maybe in the next life
I hope I can find someone like you

He flipped the pages
one after another
his curious fingers
tracing each syllable
of her untold story,
the deeper he dived
in her mystic maze
his fingers were smudged
with ink and her tears
the words were stripped
her soul was bare
and he fell in love
with her cryptic layers

Oh moonchild,
it is safe now,
Unfold your layers till you discover the stardust and ecstasy residing within.

You are but a speck in the creation of life,
born of constellations your mind cannot fathom,
existing parallel to each equinox awaited,
although the vast is mystified and serene,
remember oh moonchild,
you are deserving of the radiance you shine onto others.

Unfold your layers and look inward for there you will find,
the glories the skies contain confide the very heart which you thought benign.

if this bus
is any later
i will drift
into a pile of snow

i’m not seventeen
anymore
wrapped in three
and a half blankets
to keep myself warm
from the inevitable cold

i’m an amorphous blob
a lump of
coat and scarf
and mask and hair
and cords and lunchbox
and sweater and bag
and cold fingers clutching
a coffee cup

i’m not twenty one
anymore
can’t keep
ignoring things
pushing them
under more layers

claiming it will
keep me warm but
just stifling
me from breathing

i’m almost
twenty three
but when i start
ripping off layers
i’m still
thirteen

under the
trappings of
age there
are those same
fresh wounds
****** on my skin

do we even get
older or do we just
grow wiser in the ways of
silencing the child underneath?

but there’s no time
to think about that
now when the
bus is rounding the
corner and i’m scrambling
through forty
different pockets
to find my pass

and it’s time to go
because if i stand
here any longer
so the snow blows
over me
when the sun comes
out my feet will
melt onto the sidewalk

but that’s another
thought for another
day and it’s time to
leave so i’ll just put on
another layer and
keep moving so
the snow can’t
cover me

Orbital cycles continue in silence
Clues encoded below our surface
Assurances often issued in service

Expectations setting precedent
Placed in systems held with relevance
Are we persuasive to suggested events
Recognisable feelings sense ahead

Onion layers all revealing
Who are the fools inside of you
Step back into receptive thought
To make knowledgeable judgement calls

my mind may have layers
stairs and levels
twisting
and turning
halls and rooms
but don't be fooled
my mind is not
a building
my mind is not
a home
in fact
my mind
is where i get
lost the most
I can't find refuge
not even in my own head