naked,

underneath snow that falls,

like a dead waltzer,

like you and your shaking self.



naked ,

where snow melts around bones that break,

knees that shake.

and a voice that refuses to speak.



naked,

laid out to rest,

cede to the crackling frost;

frost like a galaxy,

the same galaxy, crafted and stitched into your ice-born skin,

into your glacier eyes.



naked,

starved,

a suicidal dreamer,

trying to touch the stars,

the begging, arctic moon -

trying to touch anything

but her anorexic, marbled form.

Frantically tug
Deconstruct
The tracks
Prevent progress
Of the most
Volatile transport.

l.v.s

a heart shaped pool of warmth and affection
love between the lines of separated embers
singularity of a young paramour in love
with an illusive apparition of deceased gal

self-hate embraces her body like a flame
atop the candle made of contrite paraffin
of grief, odium and disgrace in one person
as the wax was slowly melting, she dissipated

but the lover never stopped loving his dame
knowing there are no places to visit anymore
he stayed where he lives, smiling upon future
knowing that his maiden is living a happy life

howbeit the girl shuts down, missing the point
a self-hateful black hole trying to **** itself
unluckily going nowhere, regreting for everything
they have ever done to people and themselves

After a strenuous hike I met a man
With no arms and just one leg
But he would always smile at life

What makes you happy?
What makes you fine?
How do you forget that you are broken

But the man kept on smiling and said
"It is fine"
And I found myself staring in the mirror

She was a landmark of
            many journeys

The only quandary
            at this moment
is others had travelled
her more than self..

She was a
               penny machine
letting others deposit in her.

But she had left this emotion
                     long ago...

She collected her pennies,
         throwing them angrily
into a wishing well of despair..

There is a reason

in case you're wondering

There is a explanation as to why we feel

 the way we feel

during that time of year

That time of year when it's chilly

or for other people

just not as hot as it usually is

There is a reason

You know in science class

when they taught you that the earth circles the sun

well there is something that they don't teach you.

The universe does that too

our universe

 it revolves around and around

 I don't know how long it's been that way

or what set it into motion

or even what it's revolving around

but I'll let you know once I find out

and I will find out

There are other universes too that travel around in the same way ours does

And within each of those universes

there is us

There is you and there is me and there are others

People just like us

 but different

People in a reality where maybe

we are all dogs

or eat clothing for nutrition

or or maybe simply have longer hair.

A reality where you are still you

but maybe just a little smarterer

funnier or creative

or have an aesthetic for ripped jeans and eyeliner

maybe you like jazz

maybe you prefer psychedelic rock

or maybe you hate music altogether

Despite all these differences

 you

and your others

 are the same

deep down

On the orbital journeys of the many universes 

there is a point in time when all of the universes are closest together

This is when we are closest to our others

We feel happy

Because we feel as if we are closer than we've ever been to understanding and accepting who we really are

and we feel the least alone

of course not everyone feels this way

There are some people who that when this time of year comes around

 they feel stressed out

 or sad

or just cold; 

not cold just because of the weather, of course

but because they are now closer to the person they hate the most

 the person that they are;

***** laced lips
Stumble over slurs.
I try not to trip over
Your tangle of lies,
Glass shattered at my feet.
The only silver lining
Is the cigarette
Smoke-filled air
And broken shards
Shining up with epicaricacy.
Masquerade behind bitter liquid lips,
Shallow promises.
Innocent heart, ragged with age.

A mouthful of sorry before I'm even at fault.
Careful tiptoes across an icy layer of conversation.
I will burst through the thin floor.
I always do.

I'm so sorry.
I don't know why I'm like this.

I am a house without a single window.
No air allowed inside of my swollen lungs.
No vacancy in the clogged doors to my words.
Please keep out.

I really do apologize.
I'm such a ******* mess.
I'm not poetic
Or artistic
Or anything but terrible.
I'm sorry that I'm terrible.
You see, I really can't help it.
Except I know that I can.

I'm drowning,
I'm drowning so fast and I need someone to tell me I'm going to breathe again.
There's no air allowed in my flooded pipes and
I am now humbly dead.

Now that my body is an abandoned house,
There is something I must confess:
I'm scared.
I am really ******* scared.