I am holding on to something
strange and bright
heavy yet dark
I cannot recall what it is
or if I can
let it break me
clean my dusty bones
my broken ribs my shallow smile
I close my eyes
as tight as seeds
grow a field with my dreams
my fears are crows perched upon a fence
she was my scarecrow
at night
I let her hold my heart
it is small
but too big for my body
she sings to it
songs I know but my mother never sang me
never held me and never told me
son, one day you will be a big man
one who can lift city's and people  
one who shall write poems
and love a girl like it was the last thing you ever do
cause it is
cause all you've never had is love
when it was all you've ever wanted
and was all you've ever gave
and this heart is small
but he hands away his beat by big handfuls
never wanted it anyway
never wanted the dreams
but they do come
come by threes
by the backs of dead star dust
like billows of black smoke
swallows me whole
buries me alive
the sky was a graveyard
and the stars were the tombstones
she wakes me from the nightmares
my palms like rivers
I cannot hold her
she puts my hands to her chest
the beat was ever so bright
heavy yet dark
*my body is not a coat of razor's  
you can hold me
just try

the grass was wet that night
it shimmers
beneath the soft glow
and a faint echo
from far across the field
calls out to me
reminds me of a poem

I cannot remember if I read it or heard it
all I know is that it is familiar
like the taste of water
a gust of oxygen
and the smell of night

the voices grew louder
something is in the orchard tonight

the creek still sleeps
so do the dogs
I grab my flashlight
headed towards the noise
under the wet hot night
even I still shiver

when I see the glow of eyes

she sleeps
the moon was her mother
telling her bedtime stories
and I
was a night light

let the monsters slip
back into the imaginations
and we shall sleep

tonight
god holds us like blanket

the white sheets warp you like a ghost
I was her ghost
her light

shining only to love her
only so she can sleep
again and again and again
peaceful

that she was

her dreams
they cry
but she still breaths

undisturbed
though she maybe

the world was a pop-up book
and I was a child
sleeping in the sun

these shadows still hold me
but somedays
I can still hum out loud to myself

I can not tell you or show you these dreams
only sing them
so loud
that on good days
I lose all thats left of my voice

I still am struggling
to hear what my insides say
and pretend that these ghosts don't shake me
so I can learn to talk to people again

and as the music comes
to rip these ghosts from my body
I still remember how I could once talk to you

tell you my dreams
my fears
let them speak and scream and breath

find their way
from out of these shadows
and into the sun
so bright

I sat at the table  
with a bottle of liquor
and a poetry book

outside were the wolves
dancing around a fire
I went to join them

bottle in one hand
book in the other

reading these poems amongst the fire

the wolves are speaking
strange tongues
I cannot understand them
tried to speak
nothing comes out

I read on

the poems twisted
spun hugh circles in my arms
they spoke to me
I understood them

it started to rain

when the wolves left
they leave behind the ****** bones of mice
scattered like a message

I was still there
legs burning
back cold

bottle in one hand
book in the other
eyes closed

the hunter carried me back home
set me on my couch

drunk and confused
through my book
dropped my liquor

took a knife from the drawer
cut the words from out of my belly
you drowned in the slurs
so did I

swallowed the knife
spoke of god
and went to bed

awoke at dawn
cold
and naked
and amnesic

I was a country dreaming of grass
you laid down next to me

gas can in one hand
lighter in the other
wanting to show me what violence looks like

gathered my thoughts
walked deeper into to the trees

you burnt my image in the grass
screamed out my name
burned through your throat
consistent with shards of glass

in the forest I met a spider

there is a man walking
carrying an Axe

destroys his home
the spider is crying

I would too
but I did not want to show him
I am more afraid of him
then he is of me

he laid in a gutter of sorrow
sorrow feels like dirt

covers him
keeps him sheltered
feels likes home

home was a place of silence

the night it rained
water poured down these broken streets
in the midst of the gutter
he found burnt up library books

read the Egdar Allen Poe's
out loud to himself

the ink ran form the pages
covered his hands
in the black the soft whisper of poets

the sky was empty
so were his eyes

under the willow trees
he sleeps next to these books
covers them from rain
keeps them sheltered
feels at home