The pain won’t stay
So long
See you in May
Just not today, myself to betray
Lose myself indulging in what’s not spoken
Losing grip of the entirety of this moment
The only regrets I have are the ones that make her upset
is this a phase
false love to praise?
am i insane?
insecurities i can't restrain
is this a test?
one I can't retake?
is this a game?
one I cannot play?
when will it pay?
in debt til I decay
what should I say?
it's wrong to hate
the obvious is said
complications in my head
resulting in my death
it's life or lead
but what's to complain at the end when I wake up in a bed

here i am waiting for the flowers to bloom
waiting for the sun to come
waiting for the stars to fall
waiting for the time to pass slowly
waiting for the river to flow
waiting for the next song to play
waiting for the wind to whisper my ears
waiting for the moon that will eventually out there looking for me from a far away.

I shared a moment with you today;
for once,
I was just
                     Present.
Not plagued with the what ifs,
The constant dialogue,
Bewitched was I
by nature’s percussion,
Dancing a melody outside,
I wrapped us in a blanket,
You calmed -
We both were still,
Our souls connected in a song:
A simple lullaby,
In your eyes sang the Universe,
It echoed back in mine,
An orchestra of consciousness
that I’ll treasure
for a while.

I sit on the counter, feet draped over the sink watching the sun rise over the trees through the open window
As I bring my coffee to my lips I feel the familiar chip
The one that my lips have felt every morning for years
This cup snuggles perfectly between my small hands, the warmth shielding them from the cool spring air

This cup has been through a lot
A few moves
More than a few lovers

The Alice in Wonderland decal has worn off and the seafoam enamel is cracked-- a mosaic of all the times I didn't care enough to hand wash it
The handle fell off once, I wanted to practice the Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken things with liquid gold
But I'm a college student, so glittery modge podge worked just fine

In many ways I am this cup
Used, well loved
Slightly broken, held together with glitter and good intentions
I don't mind the cracks
In the cup or in me
Cracks show that you are strong, can handle whatever is thrown at you, heartbreak or linoleum
They also allow light in
To brighten when darkness is all you can seem to find

As I reach the last sips of my coffee the sun is well up
My cats are hungry and I'm running late
Some days it's worth tardiness to reconnect to a part of you you thought was lost

Today is one of those days

The rain poured
a glass of wine
through my lips,
solid chunks of sky
hitting relentlessly
the thin slice of dome,
my head dizzy
reciting the do-re-mi-
cascade of water
breaking into bullets
and merging then
back into puddle.

This started earlier tonight,
white stone sheets,
dense air cool by November,
darkness so natural to thought
that my eyes were shut,
whatever observes
what the eyes exclude,
silently observing
my complicity
with melancholy itself.

So the sermon of blah,
almighty course of opinion,
eternal genesis of monologue,
running never away from me,
but through me.

At this point
anything can happen,
repeat repeat,
or the moon’s light
rising as smoke
into the hair that is your,
to the night I speak,
body’s cosmos.

The rain dwindling,
at this point,
the ache can be melody –

cool whiteness of breath
entering the sore river
of the night,
this time my body of thought,
the house with the wonderful
arch to welcome pain inside.

Do I have hope?

That is,
to some degree,
the question
that draws this poem.

The world is a gaping maw of ignorance
Filled to the brim with hatred,
Intolerance,
Unadulterated bigotry,
And millions of eyes,
Blinded mid-lobotomy,
That self-performed procedure
That protects the subject
From any sudden understandings.
Things are not as they ought to be,
But then things never were
And never will
Be.
The world is the way it is,
And those of us who couldn’t cut into our own calculating core,
Those of us who attempted the task with a torrent of tonics
Instead of hammer and shiv,
Find ourselves wandering through a wasteland of willful
Idiots and bigoted bullies.
Try as we might to open their eyes,
Open their minds,
We fail.
Their eyes are hollow shells and dust.
Their minds are awash with religious rules, rifles, ruination,
Walls, borders, fences,
Imaginary lines drawn everywhere,
Over everything,
And their brains are protected from learning anything new
Or different
By miles of scar tissue and an overabundance of barnacles.
So that leaves the rest of us,
The ones with eyes open, minds primed and wide,
Stuck.
Lost in a world of people who will never understand,
Never let real freedom ring,
Never erase the imaginary lines they drew themselves,
Never accept that everything they believe
Is preposterously perverse.
The more we try to spread the truth,
Attempt to put an end to the primitive procedure of self inflicted
Amentia,
The more they try to stomp us out,
Extinguish our flames,
Burn us to the ground.
But we continue to fight, to bleed, to die.
Sometimes because we still have hope that things can and will
Get better.
But more often than not,
We fight on because it's the only thing that keeps us
From picking up that ice-pick ourselves and becoming
Another one of the mindless masses.