pulling at your limbs
rubbing sleep from your eyes
dragging yourself through

you don't want to be alone
cause alone seems to mean
that you will feel lonely

you don't want to be alone
cause they say antisocial
when you love select people

you don't want to be alone
cause not having a lover
isn't accepted by them yet

you don't want to be alone
cause they believe being solo
isn't the right way to go

blue lights
hot teas

cold feet
soft sleeves

quiet room
typing keys

I may never dream
of anything but green
because I live between
what is supposed to be
and the true reality
of grey dusty skies
and those dark eyes

lurking over us
a mystery a puzzle
an eye that sees all

it's still dark out
it's eerie and quiet
still as a grave now

a different love
platonic and familial
but never ******

blue, a color to morn
seen as sadness
mistaken for a sign
of the coming sorrow
some simple symbol

blue, a color of comfort
like rain after drought
clear streams bubbling
and oceans swelling with joy

blue, like fireworks
while popping blueberries
and a refreshing drink
under the clear blue sky

Love is like seed
you plant it deep in your heart
it might not seem like much
but sure enough it grows

little buds peeking up
roots spreading through your soul
latching on to a connection
and creating a relationship

As the seedling grows
you have to water it gently
not too much not too little
don't suffocate new love

When the flower blooms
it shows all the care you gave it
and pretty petals brighten the room
blossoming in love is the same

s t  r   e    t     c      h       i         n       g
long corrrrrridors
ache with those
who once
           w
                a
 T                   l
   H                     k
      E                      e
         M                      d

can you hear their echoes coming back?

from so             F A R              away
and
          d
             o
          w
             n
                    these mirrored halls?
that distorted the truth
                           and their reality?

Little dregs in the bottom
forgotten washed out pieces
used and thrown away

Tea leaves have brewed tea
serving their purpose
thus ending their usefulness

A rope swings gently in the wind
hanging from an elevated stage
an audience mills below the steps

From a gleaming metal bared window
a young women in plain clothes watches
she sits proper and straight before her fate

They come at dawn clacking with her chains
she holds her head high down the hall
as tears stream down her petite face

The steps are high as they hoist her up
ringing the rope around her fragile neck
the roughness is a promise of darkness

In the crowd she sees her children mourning
Not yet dead she smile at them sadly
and mouths “I’ll always love you”

There is an ominous thump from below
and she struggles in the air hands grasping
too light for the rope to snap her neck

Hours and hours later the crowd gone
she breathes her last breath alone
hanging for something she didn’t do

I'm no puzzle piece
it's not a question
or some problem

I'm a little different
but that's not wrong
I can just be myself

I'm not part of your ideal
I shake, smile, and stutter
and get nervous alone

I'm a lover of many things
just not touching you
or being put into boxes

emotions bundled up
unstable nuclear reactor
waiting to meltdown

I sit alone on the floor,
the light blinks in and out.
...or perhaps it is my eyes?
that I cast now over leftwards
to look at the doorway.
Empty, as it always is,
or is now? as it should be.

I feel as though I am floating,
no, I am grounded now.
Chained here to the floor.
My body lays like bones in the ground,
unmoving and crushed by dirt.
heavy and cloying, the smell of earth.
worms dig under my skin,
wriggling parasites in my skull.

Am I decaying? like I once wished.
my thoughts like rot, what else...
but to deteriorate into darkness.
My body lays on the floor,
a useless cadaver as it always was.
I am strung to it by some means,
my ghost lingering on the dead.
Have I not moved on yet?

My tired dragging eyes
rubbing sleep out of them
or rubbing deeper in?

An impression of exhaustion
in my sallow skin
or my fragile mind?

a sweet chime dings
as you walk through the door
you breath in the smell
of cherished tomes
and are drawn in
to a world of possibilities

sitting drinking tea
here wasting away the hours
slumped over my desk

sweet dripping and lush
in my tea and into me
honey in my veins

something as simple as trying your shoes
it doesn't seem to be a big deal
but to me who always would refuse
never saw the appeal

until the girl across the street
saw me as she passed through
and looked at both my feet
she said "Let me show you"

she taught me a lot of things
from tying my shoes and riding a bike
to how to jump of the swings
I didn't know then as a tyke

back when I was still so small
that we would grow apart
I would loose them in a loll
the mother that held my heart

Learn a little self-;ove
you're the only one
when you feel undone

Learn to hold yourself above
the crashing waves
you're all that remains

Learn to have the most of
what holds you up
be your own back-up

i hate food
i love to eat and eat and eat
i never seemed to stop
chips, nuts, berries, and galore

i hate food
i love to chew and chew and chew
i always seem to be hungry
pasta, bread, eggs, and more

glass of apple juice
wonderfully nostalgic
you're sweet and smooth

How can something so sweet be so poisonous
a little petal full of toxins
a flower that feeds on death

How can so many lovely things be deadly
a plant creating scopolamine
a leaf that brews violence

Deep in the forest
among the trees
past the wildflowers
that line the front gate

Sits a small one level
with chimes on the porch
tinkling in the wind
like fae laughter

There sits a woman
face drawn with old age
cradling a cup of tea
with a book on her lap

Alone in the woods
she lives at peace
a cat curled at her feet
as the days pass by

often I drag myself out of bed
     like I am weighed with anchors
     made of sorrow and expectations

often I am unreasonably upset
     over nothing and everything at once
     from scratchy sweaters to school admissions

often I wonder why I fret
     over the smallest failures I commit
     and over the little quirks that I have

often I'll ponder all that has gone wrong
    and wish I could have changed it all
    I will wish to not to think these things again

beloved you are
gentle soft pillows
filled with feathers
that itch at my skin

beloved you are
sobbing on shoulders
acid on tongue
begging for love
that I've never known

beloved you are
the beat of water
the shower head
pearly tears fall down

beloved you are
broken like glass
an edged smile
at days of the end

beloved you are
chaining me here
clutching at nails
like knives in my hand

a manuscript set forth
erors sprawld acros
every single page

t̾e̾a̾ stains spot it
where it lᵢₑs fₒᵣgₒttₑN
on your desk now

half finished here...

c h o p p y sentences
full of m̴i̴s̴t̴a̴k̴e̴s̴
marked up in RED

there are improvements
little notes jotted down
between the margins

waiting for action
as you steep a cup
to string it together

tired eyes, those long nights
drinking mint tea like alcohol
whispering to myself in a soft drawl
as the frigid september air bites

my lids grow heavy as hours pass
staring at my screen for answers
words jump around like dancers
my vision becomes milky glass

as I lift my head to the dawn
my hands still across the keys
and I can finally feel at ease
now the night shadows are gone

fizzy love wild days
like dynamite and lit fuses
you were explosive

It wasn't a problem
just a tick really
it's kind of silly

It was nothing much
correcting tilted things
organizing rings

It wasn't a problem till after
when nothing was clean
and hands had to gleam

Skin was cracking
it was like a disorder
everything had to be in order

when sitting at your desk
you experience hypesthesia
from being to statuesque
it's called paresthesia

don't want to swear
by yelling out bollix
take it out with blare
or a string called grawlix

do you have that tickling
feeling on your niddick
don't know that christening
it's your nape to be specific

going into winter sun
that soft warm felicity
experienced by everyone
that is called apricity