Why must you
be this way?
Full of blemishes
and discolor.
I know God
wanted me
to look a certain
way,
but i'm sure
he didn't intend
for this.
I try and try
to have a clear
face, but nothing
seems to help.
I look at my
reflection and cry, cry, cry.
Even though my outside
isn't so beautiful,
at least my inside is.

Mom "Don't go outside it's raining"
Our great thinkers used to go out in the rain
Why must I be contained during such a spectacle?
What has changed? Let's see...
Mom " You'll get sick"
So our faucet dispenses a fluid purer than what freely falls from the clouds?
What leaks through our ceiling isn't just a sign to fix our roof
Maybe it's trying to drip back into our lives
How do I know the rain doesn't miss me?
What if the rain longs to sweep down my skin?
I won't know
Because "common sense" is overshadowing any piece, any connection we have to becoming a TRUE BEING
alive
Mom "Don't go outside its raining"
Child "Okay"
*I miss you too rain

I see beauty in every step I make,
this world has robbed us of the right,
to see with my own god given gift of sight.
no trust in my reality
only laugh at whats on the computer's screen,
I see beauty in every cobble, in every drunken wobble,
I watch the street lights glow pass through the trees that shelter below
I see the homemade art hanging on your mantle, through the window left ajar so that winters sounds may visit,
and I see the world spinning on its axis, the Pre-printed clouds scrolling past me like a news feed,

green grass and the smell of mud,  the wind disturbs trees that shed leaves as if they where a grand lady, shedding tears to some offensive gesture

the beauty in life is not in screens,
the beauty does not hide behind great outings
the beauty does not rest, it does not settle, it is neither here nor their,

the beauty of life is around us, at every moment,
in every moment.
it just takes time to learn to see

Sometimes
Life keeps moving when you're trying so hard to hold still.
Roll with the punches, make changes, do something to better yourself
Or *simply fade away.
There's more out there,
There's undiscovered emotions and ideas that could broaden your horizons wider than the most beautiful sunset that you may never even see because you were too set in your ways to go outside your comfortable little box and really SEE the world.

*The choice is yours.

Play her a simple melody.

Will write things with her movement.
Two thousand silent words with her body.

Has always been one with words.
Studies the curves of their backs and the lengths or their tails.

Her books climb ladders to the top shelf by themselves, everything needed bounded to their spine.

Keeps her teardrops in a jar by the bedside.
Lies awake, counting them.
Only reads her favorite stories, over and over,
until she falls asleep.

The mind of an insomniac is always in pain.

Favoring the moon? Or the sun?
One dies when the other is born.

Things inside my closet pt.1

Four blue walls, four pink walls, three yellow walls, one green.
Moved everything across the hall got paint on the ceiling,

put pictures on the wall.

Went away, came back.
Took pictures off the wall, photographs of strangers.

Put them in a box, back of the closet.

She told me once that skeletons sleep there.

Seems peaceful.

Out of sight, never mind.

Lost my home, but found a new one.

If you lose yourself, check my closet.



a.bee

The rain falling from a tree lands with a weight
It is comfort, the outside world reminding me it's real
There is more than the airless, dry aired, stuffy rooms of school
There is a whole world to explore.
If I ran into the middle of the moor, and closed my eyes
Breathless
The roar of traffic could almost be the sea
Northern, icy, blue-green-grey.
In my kind it tickles the priory on a stormy night.
I wonder what it would be like to be somewhere hot
Where warm, humid air and bright light was outside
And icy cold white expanse was in.
Those grey clouds are more than the grey tinge of copy paper.
The black of tarmac is more than board pen
The spiny trees are real, no words come from their branches
All are familiar, and yet outside provides comfort.
Inspiration.

Mostly i've said nothing
i've felt nothing
meant nothing
nothing at all
nothing in my mind
I'm a prisoner
and the walls
remind me sometimes
about rain
when tears fall
nothing that can suffice
and i've learned
to never ask the price
i'm nothing
like ice
turned water
losing my identity
the key
of self
in isolation i breathe
and yet i can taste
the outside
just lingering beyond
my thoughts
those i have caught
between my dreams
painting echoes
bursting through
mind and space
into the emptiness
I've so fell in love with
my shelter
and answer to my prayers
an oasis
that isn't there
fooling me into believing
that i have something to lose
somewhere
in this nothingness