i’m as bad as the men
who make women their muses
my eyes finds a victim
relentless and vain, my heart chooses
unsuspecting ones
they could be perfect already
but i’ll never know that
i’m an artist
painting over flaws
on cracking and chipped wooden walls
or on dated wallpaper blossoming with flowers yet yellowing
i apply a mask of fresh paint
a mask to hide the face
of a man i did not take the time to know
because i never spoke
or greeted him
and i won’t take the time
to bear what lies beneath
my own fabrication

I walk through the hopeless fields of limbo
and stop to smell hell’s fragrant flowers
As bodies burn in heaps below and paint the walls a bright vermillion
Limbs torn apart ceaselessly or beaten down by rain showers
I can’t wait to reach the circle that you’re still in
As I have been lost in a dark woods, I’ve been stuck here for hours
Is there any way to hate the game
and still win?
Lower myself and descend for you
I hope you'll remember my name
Lovers ****** for their lust is said to be cause for a bad fate
He claims to be led by love
Yet it's just the thing He seems to hate
So make me a raven, release the dove
I don’t care if I never rise to the world above

Mother, I’ve painted my nails the color of you
Black cherry the color of composure
In the light they brighten like the red handlebars of my bicycle in the sun
In my wicker basket I carry wildflowers and dreams
And the weight of it rests in your arms
You make the wilderness sweeter, your dessert from berries off the vine
That summer my room was a constant breath of vanilla, soaked into the carpets and in my hair
The familiar sweet scent of your dolls brought down from the attic
I noticed the frills
Because you talked about how you adored watching little house on the prairie
And wished you could wear your hair in ringlets and wear their modest gowns
Yet you said just as often how you loved to be outside until the sun would go down
So yes, my grandmother fought other mothers in the toy aisle in the 80’s for their doll
Your doll
My doll
And the house now called ours is surrounded by a beautiful woods
And I see that what matters are the times
when you linger on vanilla and the fruits of summer

scarf wrapped tenderly around
my vulnerable, wind-worn neck
body veiled in lovely earthy tones
moss green and rich leather and brown suede
chosen by me, yet hoping
to be seen by you
i actually like dressing for the weather
worn jeans and the warmth of knit sweaters
does my comfort catch your eye?
or would you rather my boots be thigh-high,
fish nets and flesh bared to the winter air,
absurd and delirious and drunk
without care?

my form fits its function

Stealing my solitude with a kiss
To make me want what i know i can’t miss
Does that make you feel more whole?
You’re filling my mind with absence

Whispers of love with one foot out the door
The scattered sun shines in shattered rays across the floor
And this time I think, I wish I’d never felt any of this before
Because the night hides what the daylight is ready to show
And I’d rather forget what I already know
My willful ignorance of your desire to go

summer heat delirium
i thought the days would never die
now johnny cash came on the radio and it almost made me cry

we would drive on by the small towns
kicking dust up, wheeling on
and we’d listen by the river
to the good old country songs
the ones your father played for you,
the ones you'd loved and passed along

how i've missed the morning music
dad, i hate how it's been gone
i can’t believe that now i’ve watched the sun go down at dawn

We danced and the fire licked our heels
But only I felt alarmed at its heat
A siren’s wail grew louder than the music
And my eyes dashed for the nearest exit
A window sitting low to the ground
I pushed past the people
Twisting their faces in confusion
The air slid in its cold current down my throat
My legs pushed towards the open field
And the flashing lights cast long shadows
Of dancing figures flickering on the grass
The silhouettes chased me across solid ground
My heart was fixed on the horizon

my voice snares at the edges
tearing at the air with its unnatural and distorted sound
white linen shirt caught by the edge
you’re only trying to pass through the day as we all are
jagged branches pull or the barbed ends of a fence stabs through the fabric
uncomfortability i see twisted on your face when my words are not what you want them to be
it's as though something went wrong in the process of spilling my words out into the world as something tangible
and the words manifest hurt, but necessary hurt
because i’m only trying to speak my mind
a small object falls from a high building
a vision of what my words look like from a bystander, the beginning to end of that process
whole at first and then shattered, disfigured by how you perceive them
much lighter and insignificant in my head, but the impact they have when my words hit the ground of your mind is enough weight to crush a person under interpretation