Bloomed from a Rainy past.

We’re 8 years apart.
Born in entirely different centuries
Born in different seasons and on different days.
Yet we’re exactly alike.
Yet so contradictory

Our hair, our face, our expressions.
Our jobs, our mannerisms, our perspectives.

You don’t see what you’ve done to me Kristoph.

You’ve planted this seed in my head. That I should always listen to you, that what you said was true and gospel.

You nourished that seed in my head while raining down on me like a hailstorm.

You had my strings in your hands. Cherry picking what I thought and what I should know.

You make sure that seed was planted deep inside of me.

But I broke free of your storms.

I became my own flower.

So when I bloomed it wasn’t what you wanted. You tried to prune me. So I built a fence to protect myself.

You gave me the seed but I became my own garden. I flourished while you wilted. Your visions became stationary.

That’s when I realized it.

You aren’t a flower at all.

You’re a ****.

And when you can’t infect one garden you move on.

So you took him.

Now it’s my job to free him of your thorns as well.

And together the two of us will


Bloom.

Don’t always march to another’s drumbeat,
Nor always dance to another person’s tune,
But march in time to your own heartbeat and
Dance and dance, till you reach the moon …

idyllic steps
are bare
in green
make months
in golden
year the
gavotte in
her little
black dress
that the
music of
spring in
vapor of
the string
makes her
frosty as
the hills

im missing
from my own
existence

The arrival of life
Something new is beginning
Before my very eyes
The world does not try to hide it
I’ll be replaced even before I’m buried
But I do not resent you
I’m not jealous of what I’ll miss
I’ve already lived my lifetime
And that’s all anybody gets.

My body slows
As gravity has it’s way with me
My mind is slowing too
Slowly the neural network is going dark
And with everything slowing down
What does time do?
It races ever faster
Our first day was longer than last week.

The page is turned once again
As a eulogy of winter is recited
While the weather outside steadily
Changes the season
As the sun seems to shift
Towards the North
Until it reaches its maximum height in the sky.

I see the leaves regain life
And flowers sprout from the ground
Blossoming the earth
With new shades.
The Vernal ground develops
As I can see the dirt slowly begin to give
Between my feet
As the ground in which I stand
Has no seasons.
Its nature is unknown
And already it rots at my feet
It’s as though even nature
Has an understanding
That soon is my time to go.

we sit and try to name all the stories we barely remember:
supposedly, as if you have rolled your tongue like that your whole life.
it is march and as much as it pours
I still grimace as the truth rises
out, lustful for air and understanding

(don't you remember,
every dreary november
that girl, meek and bolder
with a chip on her shoulder
unsteady, not ready
to fall down, heart out
shattering onto the muddied ground
reaching out, then
deep down inside
no tools
trying to hide . . .
but how long will you choose not to see?

don't you know, young one,
then there was nothing you could do,
don't you remember, her, that girl,
that girl she was you?)

the rain drip, drips on the lawn
and I hold the handle tighter. take a sip and sigh.
the soft rays gleam on the walls, our hands, where my lips just touched
and we watch them dance in the occasional light,
and we sit reckoning with the wisps in our hearts,
to be unafraid of the morning, and when the water rises