There is a box titled
"useless"
that has been pushed into
the deepest
darkest

loneliest

areas of my brain.

Where silver lights
and crisp images
force me to think of a
better past and fuel a
sense of want

with the life I
used to live
and the people always
are smiling and I am always smiling
and the resolution is so clear you
can barely tell

it's fake

But there is a box titled
"memories"
that my mom keeps in
the room adjacent
to the fire

And inside are pictures
that are grainy and yellowed
and stained with caffeine
and ***** and hot chocolate.

The blurred image of my
brother's smile hidden in
his balloon face expanding
and stretching and cracking.

The worn candid of my mother looking
upon me as a baby
with eyes that scream for a breath
and yellowed teeth to remind me
this is no

goal.

It was simply there and now
it is gone.

I am ready.
Ready to be alone.
Ready for the hug of
myself to rush from the
gaping mouths of those

who hate me.

who wronged me.

who left me.

I am ready.
Ready to be enveloped.
Ready to drift
in a cool pond of dark
rooms empty of those

who judged me.

who mistook me.

who made me unwell.

I am ready.
For what else I do not know.
But, what I do know is that
to fill my own heart is far safer

than to fill others.

And oh, the city
was not left in the flames.
the jungle and the savanna
no longer rose tall and red.

The Devil never liked
them very much. He didn't
appreciate that they have in to
his fire and succumbed to his
drought.

For instead he was seeking
vengeance. He was seeking
something to hate him
to scorn him.
Something to fight.

Instead, the jungle had
let the Devil win
and the savanna cared
no more.
So the Devil

Did what he thought
would cause the most pain.
He left the burn
but took the flames.
He left the sting
but took the warning.

No one came to the rescue
of the antelope and
snakes. Instead,
outsiders went along
unknowingly.

But little did the Devil
know
that out of the flames
rose something
strong.

For the Ember Lion
does not run from
her pain. Instead,
she carries its essence
with her.

I used to dance
beneath the
strong


oak tree. I felt
its leaves in what
is

now empty and
thick with sludge and
what

used to be touched
by the roots of the oak
I

have long sense lost
it and all
hope.

I used to dance
beneath the strong oak tree.
To

Sing and to smile
and just to
be.

Look at her.
The girl over there; she's happy, right?
Always laughing and always smiling.
She's like a little ray of light.
You've never thought to ask her,
"Are you feeling okay?"
because she seems like
she's happy everyday.
But little do you know,
everyday, she comes home
to an empty house.
Because it's empty,
it's her free time to just cry and shout.
Shout at the walls
for keeping in the sound of her cries.
She looks forward to the day
her body becomes limp and dies.
At night, she eats her homemade meal.
Then goes upstairs and turns the shower handle,
life no longer seems real.
She stands and silently cries,
her tears look identical to the water.
That way, her parents never worry
about their daughter.
She cries herself to sleep,
then goes back to school each day.
She walks through the doors,
glances at her peers.
"Goodmorning," you'll hear her say.
She says it with a smile on her face.
A smile you'd never second guess.
A smile you'd never think
is any different from the rest.

I haven't written lately.
My poems are locked in a vault.
A vault that represents sadness and
a time

of nothingness.

I haven't been inspired lately.
Even know I don't know where this
is going or where it's coming from and
I am

just writing.

I haven't felt it lately.
I have felt a lot of things though.
The sadness of death and the fear of it and yet
there is

a void.

I haven't written lately.
The voice within my head has quieted.
I have stopped feeling the need to express
and I

I can feel its tug