Feet pressing
into soft ground.

Bits of wet soil
paint our sandals.

With the incline
rises my gaze.

Mud spots legs
and freckles appear.

A smile touches within
seeping out.

Receded then as
a spring in cold months.

Suds soon would
wash away the
speckles of folly.

Caught in my own thoughts

Lost in this brutal silence

I feel these sharp words, cut through my heart

Walking around these loud streets,
Feels like walking around a dark forest,
Or perhaps a heart drowning in a pond filled with mud

I am looking for something,
Searching for something,
Something that is not easily found,
Something that is not easily described,
Something that is not easily put in words,
Something that is felt,
Something that is said by many,
But meant by few

snows melting
ground turns to mud
rain pours
flowers sprout

the harsh cold
turns to mild warmth
bitter winds
into light breezes

winter fades
into the spring
the bleak despair
into promising hope

spring into a hopeful view.

-r.y.s

I promise to be your
                                          rain storm;
            thunder
            and
                          lig
                 ­           ht
                           ni
                             n
                            g,
     if
you will remain
                  as the
                                             mud  
that
          keeps me
                         stuck.

The best purchase I ever made
was the blackout shade for my bedroom window,
made to allow ignorance towards
the hasty mornings in which you arise.
Glass panels show haze across the valley this January. Did you sneeze?

For a world that revolves around you,
it's beautiful.

Even though the mountains aren't as tall anymore,
and the clouds hang lower—unlike your self esteem, but much like mine—I can still climb these melting piles of guilt in an attempt to reach solitude.
What is solitude?
Can anyone find this in a muddy world that revolves around you?

I remember
the taste of mud
when I was a child.                                                    
How it laughed beneath my fingers                                
making mellow sounds
making me grin.
I thought they were melted dark chocolate
and  would lick a stain
when no one was around
and then wish that I was the earth
to hold such love
and make people smile
with my touch.

The vacant, quarantined building
On the middle of main st.
Busted, breaking down- demolished
Rooms forgotten
Unfilled// with people/thoughts/lost memories
Patched with various shades of
whites/off whites/eggshells
Broken/peeling/dripping
With yellow clingy innards
Moving along my palm and fingers
Dripping//
from my lips/from my eyes

Catch it please
Catch it won’t you catch my words
Won’t you catch and be caught
Speak to me
Drip/dry/shrink
In the mid-day sun
Open up baby, I’m coming in
With pliers and piercing bullets
No walls can’t be scaled
I’ll bump/bust/buzz
A real game of operation
Dissecting the truth of
Past/present/future
You’s and me’s

Speak so I can echo
Like vacant halls/empty stairwells
Take me step by step
Hand in hand
Pull up floorboard after floorboard
Searching for the dirt in our foundations
If only fingers could reach
Farther and farther- they falter
Sinking into mud//alone