I am so cautious
and reckless at the same time.

I give little
pieces of myself to strangers
every day
swift glances
quick pauses
in which the other
person becomes
quickly informed of my
inadequacies.

I stutter. I have
so many words running
fast to the front of
my mind that
i can never quite
think of which
i want to vocalize
first.

i bite my lip to
stop the jumble
from overflowing.

i am afraid that i'm
a tower.
so tall and mighty
with power
until one brick
crumbles
and i become nothing
but debris.

so put together
yet falling apart
i am ever so tumultuous
with my aquarius
and emotional
with cancer
forever organizing the two
with my capricorn.
i am within my signs
and my signs are within me.

so i dive as far as i can go in my ocean
and i sit on this bed
and think of all the things i
left unsaid
and feel those words
pounding their way in my head
trying to burst through the dam.

there is a fist in my head
punching out my tears
and it is ruthless--
i am being abused from
the inside out.
i've lost count of the bruises
on the insides of my skin.
i can't quite make out the scars
from within.

but i've got russian skin
and it hides everything so
well
i am quite difficult to read
i've been told
and i find it impossible
to express these bruises
and scars

- i feel stuck -
unable to express
and unable to be understood.
in a glass box
pushing at the walls
begging the surrounding
strangers to understand
pleading with myself to
learn the skills of communication
quick before the crowd
disappears.

i am a patchwork of
nerves and anxiety.
i've got beauty sewn through
my veins
and a wall
sewn thickly around my heart.

Hush now, listen,
Do you hear that sound?
It's the sound of weeping people
But it isn't very loud

Our world is full of noise,
Technology, laughter, anger
Music booming in our ears
Politics that scream of danger!
But if you listen very close
Listen past the disturbance
You'll find the noise is all a fake
The truth is found in silence

The truth of people wandering like ghosts
Lost in this world of conformity
As they cry out for a hand to touch
Only finding our world of deformity

A tulip is just a tulip
in her palm or mine.

It didn't make sense to a sky
that only cried in April.

Same moon,
different set if eyes.

Just promise me,
you're one of us.

97 days
12 grams
4 cigarettes
18 coffees,
and I still can't recall
the color of your spine.

After the lightning and thunder subsides
and the rain has been reduced
to a soft drip
off the rooftops of my suburban stomping grounds.
The only sounds that echo down the streets
are husbands coming home
to their sleeping wives
and the tree's shaking off their fresh coat.
A barren sky is set before me
with no stars in sight to keep me company
as I soul search in the streets
barefoot and longing
for my other half who'd find
this entire scene serene.