I want to write
To feel my feelings freely
Spilling from the edge of my lips
Pouring across my bare skin
Inch by inch
I pray for waves
Drowning my body endlessly
Chaotic and
Entirely free
Naturally

Til then I settle for this
Drip by aching drip
Breaking up this fierce drought
Plagued by emptiness
I can feel something's missing
But I know I'm getting closer
Closer to understanding
Closer to becoming whole
Closer to seeing me

As the river whispers louder
And the air grows more humid
I continue on this path to freedom
Moment by moment
Word by word
Feeling by feeling
Until I am submerged completely
And still breathing

Sometimes We fall,
Sometimes We fly.  
But to soar,
We must learn to try.
You can’t learn to walk
Before you learn to fall.
Life is hard, and love isn’t easy.  
Staying strong is like holding a balloon
In a rainstorm.  
It can be pushed down,
but you can dry it off and pick it up again.
If it deflates, you can blow one up again
After all,
What's a dream without a reason. . .
It’s like a person without inspiration.
We wouldn’t be here today
If it weren’t for determination.  
Wishes fly on the backs of butterflies.  
They choose them because of their determination.
[A 0.3/0.4 gram butterfly flies 3000 miles]
Someone once said “A dream is a wish your heart makes. ”
I say It’s a risk your soul takes
Eagles aren’t born flying, they must learn to soar.  
A dream is a wish with a plan.
Plan to love and plan to stay strong,
And know you’re not alone.

My sunlight burgeons,
burns, brightens, sears, and sees all.
I'm the son of light.

The hands that held me
Upright like stone pillars now
Crumbled into marble rubble.
I’m left sifting through the wreckage,
Left by a war waged against himself.
One warrior.
Two casualties.
The ruins carry whispers of
Memories, promises and lies;
All etched on the walls
That once could be confided in
Now relinquishing their secrets.
A foundation built on sand
Will sink in battle:
Rebuild.

I grip the barbed wire that I use a rein,
For this beast of a world that I cannot yet tame,
I grit my teeth and I hold my breath,
The name of my lover is death.
I kneel in the salt as I am abused,
With cables and whips, yet I am amused,
Blood hits the floor, and I smile at the stain,
The name of my lover is pain.
I spit out the words that I hear in my soul,
Reciting them from this internalized scroll,
I gather my demons and open the gate,
The name of my lover is hate.

is vastly overrated.
you can think you’ve tucked
something far, far away,
relegated it to a dark cupboard
inside your psyche, slammed
the door closed.

but you can never secure
the latch completely.

childhood traumas
are especially persistent,
knock-knock-knocking,
ricocheting wall to wall to wall
until finally a crack appears,
leaking memories.

and with them, often,
the desire for reckoning.

here, character counts,
reinforcing strength of will,
the lean toward good or evil
as much about programming
as instinct.

I burn **** between my lips.
one by one.
******* them down with skill.
Skull to lungs,
ashes to ashes.
I am the smoke of myself that  
gathers deep inside
and prowls out, darkly
like faceless men at night
sunken in city pavement,  
pacing towards desire.
And so the word saunters and spirals,
clouding upwards
from my red hot tongue.
I watch it as it leaves me.
I lick my lips of the sting,
and ash drips on my shoe.
I take a deeper breath.
and look ahead.
perhaps smiling,
perhaps darkly.
As it twists itself into nothingness,
sinking headlong,  
like the private history that it is,
into the ignorant, pretty sky above.

knees bounce and fingers shake
trees that sway, and branches break
Each year brings pain, and fallen leaves
Each year brings rain and growing green
so though your bark may be laid bare
reach for light and stay there