It wrapped her head,
covering her auburn hair
in golden yellows and bright blues.

When the wind stole it away,
I raced after it,
hoping to catch up to the breeze.

The red and orange leaves
traced its path as it flew
through the brisk autumn air.

My fingers barely brushed
the fabric, but the current
brought it to the branches overhead.

The air carried it to
a high bough above our heads,
hanging it on a branch with care.

There it hung, beside
the glimmering yellow leaves of
the tree, swaying like one of them.

I reached towards the sky
to retrieve it before the breeze
could lift it away once more.

She caught up with me then,
laughing at our attempts
to rescue her bright yellow scarf.

Looking up at the thin piece of fabric,
I offered to climb the tree
though I didn’t want to.

Her infectious giggles at the
proposed idea graced my ears
like a soft, sweet song.

That music lulled my once-lonely mind
into sleepy peace and serenity
for the rest of my days.

I went outside, and met a black queen that ruled over all of my
thoughts – hoping she wasn’t a bad dream. But she'd still love me
despite my arrogance; my pivoting thoughts that swing along my
many moods swings. Fair enough; she’d understand me better,
knowing I wasn’t treated fair enough, under the same sun that
makes her skin fair as much.

Still is there a woman of your dreams when you barely feel awake;
the grass is always greener from a distance, but your eyes can never
catch the green of their snakes. And whenever I tell a short girl
a good short joke, she looks at me to keep it brief – but if I said it in
short: a laugh from a girl, is a guy’s idea of knowing he can get a
taste of those lips. But wouldn’t we love to dream in sweet relief,
while I find it less attainable when someone has me losing sleep.

Please give me my peace that comes with my piece: a piece of mind,
a piece of spark to a piece of love. But when I met the queen, I never
thought it would come with love – but she never felt a spark, paying
no mind to me. We were just two strangers in town, walking on two
different paths, who happened to glance at each other, only once!

The love story ends,
The tale is finished,
Their paths now diverge,
Separate ways taken.

Who cares for the other?
Who cherishes the bond?
A fleeting day spent together,
A smiling morning,
A humming evening,
Yet the night falls—
Darkness remains.

Bitterness lingers,
Resentment over trivial things,
Fragments of what once was.

Now, the search begins again—
Another hand to hold,
A new companion to find,
To fill the void,
To start another story.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know he is a little ***** and rough around the edges, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know he was bad with money, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know he isn't as educated as I am and sometimes he gets mad at me for that, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know he pulled my hair that one time, but it felt like home, and mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know he treated me like ****, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know he doesn't really love me, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know he gets pushy with ***, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know none of my friends or family like him, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know he will leave me faster than he came, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know he uses me, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know he won't be enough for me, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know we love in different ways, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know he draws too much attention to himself and I hate attention, but mama he held me.

Yes mama, I know.

Mama I know, I know I know, I know.

I know mama, I know.

Yes, yes mama I know.

Yes, I know

I know.

I know!

I know mama!

Yes, I know!

Don't you think I know?

Mama, I know!

But mama, mama listen!

Listen mama!

But mama, mama listen!

Listen mama!

You won't listen.

Mama! HE HELD ME!



Well mama, I did it.

Mama, I got him to calm down

Well mama, I did it.

Mama, I got him to treat me right.

Well mama, did it.

Mama, he chose me.

Well mama, now I am unhappy.

Laying still on my side of the bed
Won’t open my eyes, won’t turn my head

Our pages lie defeated on the floor
Kisses on the wall but ink on the door

Love I refuse to share with new
And so remain reserved for you.

It gives me peace, we tasted forever
Cuddled to dreams, before we severed

My heart smiles only to your touch
Your empty gloves I tightly clutch

As we twirl the days into blank unknown
I sing our song, ‘cause it’s ours to own

I sing and I cry
Teardrops burning dry

‘Till I finally dare look
At the ashes of our book

We pick up our pens in slow-motion glory
And continue to write, each our own story

Our hearts beating on to the rhythm of our metronome
Now, I must leave, but I won’t forget home.

she's got shadows in her hair
and scorpions hide in there.

her eyes drip venom,
incapacitating
all she glances upon,
turning a summer sunrise
into decay.

she's got shadows in her hair
and scorpions move beneath the surface.

her lips skitter,
chasing down
and breaking apart
even the sturdiest of mountains.

she's got shadows in her hair
and scorpions crawl under skin.

her teeth gnaw,
eroding
all she touches,
turning a broken promise
into gossamer strands.

she's got shadows in her hair
and scorpions dance within her skull.

her chest heaves,
filling up
and emptying out
the horizon.

she's got shadows in her hair
and scorpions bleeding throughout.

her heart roars,
shaking
all she treads on,
turning a lifetime
into dust.

she's got shadows in her hair
and I no longer care about the scorpions.

her hands shake,
holding my
immortal coil
in a death grip.

she's got scorpions in her hair.

witnessing the cracks
in your feeble armor
tears a whole
through a heavy heart.

I can feel the scars
upon your broken coil
and the salt flats
below your eyes.

he spilled the blood
of his bitter fists
upon that cardboard frame
the world calls your body.

he cleaved at the brittle coal
that is your aching bones,
yet you still carry yourself
upon the winter winds.

he spat in the ocean of your soul.

yet you hold on tight
to his arm,
as if he is the anchor
that keeps you safely in the bay.

and all you need do is obey.

fearful of the storm beyond,
of the deep blue of endless
possibility...
you stay within the confines
of a jagged little shoreline.

he is the rope aroung your nape
and you can't help but hang yourself.