1.
The seasons changed,
but he kept wearing a sweater
during the steamiest weather

He spoke in three languages,
but has only felt the word:
Melancholy,
and the joyous absence of it

He wondered who he would
be without his sweater,
and the word Melancholy

2.
He never uttered the word father
for it was heavy on his tongue
like heavy rain on a bleak midnight

His mother loved him dearly,
or ruined him and called it love

A man has fallen in love with him,
and he felt for the first time; the
warmth of equally returned love

His lover tore apart his heart, and
told him it was the final act of love

3.
After eleven years of insomnia,
he stopped measuring happiness
based on how many nights he slept
A funeral rose in his heart as he wept

He muttered the word:
Suffering
as if it were
a prayer
or a lullaby

4.
Drawing road maps on his skin
was his only consolation,
he chose the color red
to find his missing path

Scars between his thighs
like hidden treasures—
Centuries deep
away from people’s sight

5.
His new beloved was in
the shape of a knife,
they embraced and
the gushing blood
was his final act of love

all i want to do is love you
love you,
love you.
i've had my hands tied
for far too long
and i am finally floating,
i'm floating.

you sit and pout
about everything
try to work out your problems
by finding ways around them
but that is not the way life goes.
you're slowly running out of time
without realizing it
you're stuck in your head again
you feel like it's too hard to get out
but this isn't you
i know me and you aren't acting quite like her
this isn't you and you know it
but i know you don't know much about yourself
been too busy absorbing the personalities that surround you
you're slowly losing yourself
without realizing it
you're going too black out one of these days,
they say
and those words aren't wrong
they might foreshadow destiny
but only you can stop them
only you can put an end to the words that they tell you
you can either choose to ignore them or consume them
but you better choose
you better choose by not what you feel but by what you believe is enough.
you've got to keep going,
even when everything feels like it isn't worth it.
you over analyze everything,
try taking a step back
every once in a while
cause' only you have the ability to turn wrongs to rights

Iced hands
Drip, dripping with icicles
Light a fire
Dip, dipping them in gasoline
Stick a hand in, one at a time,
Into the fireplace
Smile
Scorched hands, are happy hands
Crackling in time with the flickering flames
The shadows cast, dance the tango around the room
Skin melting off the bone
Drip, dripping down my arms

Wrap the skeleton hands
Around the door handle
Pull hard
Open with a cracked rib

Lips cut and bleeding
Nose broken and in needing
See the truth
With an eye of death

Look towards the exposed
For guiding and teaching
Run a bony, bloodied, hand
Across the ribcage

Hushed singing surrounds me
Rhythmic waves of sunsets and campfires in the form of notes
A small blue blanket is wrapped around my tiny, fragile body
Watching as the whiskey scented breath, escapes my father
While he rocks me, singing,
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word
Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird
And if that mockingbird won’t sing,
Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring”
A deep smile rests on his gentle face
Proud of the child in his arms
I close my eyes, as I drift to sleep
Secure, and protected in the warm colors of honey and citrus fruit

When I wake
14 years later
My father sings a different song,
His breath sober, and clean after years of addiction
but his words are sharp, and jagged
Red fires, and black holes now make up the notes
He sings to me while I defend,
“It’s criminal,
There ought to be a law,
Criminal”
He twists the lyrics to fit his meaning
He fights to fit what he’s feeling
My identity left him screaming at me to leave
I close my eyes,
Afraid, and broken in a pit of flames and dark ideas

When I wake,
My voice is hoarse, and gray
My father started drinking again after 10 years of sobriety
All because of my identity
I sing softly to myself,
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word
Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird
And if that mockingbird won’t sing
Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring”
I wrap a blanket of cold air and tears around my body
Swirls of broken mirrors and empty bottles surround my head
As the memories of when my father used to drink come to mind
The reality hits
the past has become the present
And I close my eyes once again

Strip me bare of my insecurities
Lay a breath of cold air upon the chest I hide from all
Stripped of my shield
I sit vulnerable and scared
The galaxies and black holes,
That makes up my mind,
Widen with each word

Hopeful feelings lay in spots on my stomach and arms
Spots that have healed
But not left me
Dreams of acceptance and confidence
Have since become the shattered pieces of my bathroom mirror
The same mirror that makes me remember
All the ways my identity is fractured

Like the black holes in my eyes
There is a mystery to me
I believe that I am bad
I believe that who I am is disastrous to those around me
Yet what is an identity without such beliefs
Perhaps a good one

Colorful feelings, followed by dark and grey
That’s what you see when you strip everything away
Bones cracking from the pressure of being so conflicted
Signs of ripping as the heart tries to follow what it desires
The head, bleeding, as the pain of resisting grows

Cannot be me,
Give me back my insecurities
Give me back the bindings
Give me back my shield
Give me back my dark feelings and let me bleed
I can hold up fine
It is only my identity I am hiding
But we all know this is just a lie

Sitting here
With you
Might not be
The best thing I can do

I sit here
And scream
And you listen
And breathe

I cried out beautiful anxiety
It’s a pity you heard
You took me in
I might be more trouble than I’m worth
You saw the monsters in me
You looked past it
You saw the dimmed light
And sought to make it shine