those small blots of ink
you're the calligraphy
that loops around me

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

Chocolate chokecherries
I should be wary
you'll attack in the dark
you'll tear me apart

Sweet as honey
lavender lattes

Those lemon walls
and chocolate locks

Voice like angels
singing sweetly

Little shy smile
and a tiny wave

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

a sweet dewy afternoon
fills with looming clouds
and the dark grey skies
that settle over my eyes

From the Sea of Hoces
to rolling Cape Horn
the sea is vengeful

The ocean rolls and boils
at our dangerous ignorance
and our prideful arrogance

It drifts ****** icebergs here
and chops the windy waves
to assault our fragile senses

It hides monsters in it's depths
waiting beneath the surface
in our grimed gyres they wait

For us to finally choke on
our foolish mistakes of time
the cold ocean will wait

it burns on my skin
cold water from the faucet
rushing down on me

life won't be gentle
and it doesn't know love

life will drag on
and bring you down too

life isn't ever fair
and it's certainly not kind

in the midnight sprawl
where shadows lurk
and shady happenings begin
we sit on the beach alone

just inches away from the tide
the black consuming waters
that ebb and flow closely
like it's reaching out

you lap the sand at my feet
whispering darker things
in the rolling waves nearby
drawing and tempting me closer

every night we sit together
mumbling in dead tongues
of the woes they have bestowed
upon my head yet again

and every night i come closer
to reaching back out to you
as you twist and churn waiting
to enthrall my fragile mind

Thank you for having a gift
for all of those gentle songs
that you sweetly sang
with your melancholy voice

Thank you for everything
for all the advice you gave
through the good and the bad
for lifting me up when I'm sad

Thank you for giving me a home
and baking me banana bread
for taking care of things
thanks for just talking to me

Thank you for showing me
that everything is temporary
my pain isn't here forever
you were always with me

Thank you for the nostalgia
the sweet uke from the UK
the rhythms that found my soul
and the calpol for my heart

Dear robin, thank you.

Take a deep breath
they say it'll help
but I don't know how

Even if I did
how could I breathe
when I'm drowning
under the waves

don't tell me                           don't tell me
all the things                          what was said
they whispered                      behind cupped hands
in the dark                              in the hallways

Don't tell me of their dark whispering words of hurt

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

early as the sun rises
a drooping still body sits
glancing up to the window
as sun peaks through blinds
a sluggish eye squints up
and the dragging mind watches
as the haunting night now gives way
to a bright merciless morning cycle
as the world continues without a pause
for the weary souls that never ended the day

I didn't ask for this
it's all drama here

I wanted to play
but now I'm here

It's all in the looks
on the shallow stage

Now I'm crying
in the backstage

Bright colors dance
Pattern of stripes
Swish and flick
Turning about now
When you turn
In motion flowing
Fabric so light
It could fly

Maybe a car will drive by
throwing out some light
onto my face in the dark
catching on my tears there
revealing my vulnerabilities

Maybe a car will drive by
then when I leave the house
they'll think of me tomorrow
as a story on the morning news
or maybe they won't remember

Maybe a car will drive by
as I walk alone in the dark
the driver won't even glance at me
the headlights flickering across
without ever noticing my figure

Maybe a car will drive by
and it will bless me tonight
it will drive along the bridge
I will look at it from the ledge
and it could hit me on accident

a dusty room
filled with sorrow
old interests now hallow

boxes all piled up
silent as an old tomb
the abandoned backroom

once golden shining rings
you can see the grimy buildup
on the items you tried to cover up

in the corner sits a broken violin
for the music that once flew on wings
that old case is full of wood and strings

waking up again
experiencing dysania
weary yet again

blue tinted light
peaking sunlight
turns hills golden
and valleys glitter
with  sweet dew

then a little chill
from the gentle winds
caress an early riser
as they stretch out
lazy and content there
in the early morning

scrambled mind
scrambled eggs
an amalgamation
of cooked flesh
heated fever hot
something on fire
a burning house
ashes that remain
roses and posies
sickness of old
and of the new
brains on fire
breaking down
and broken up
till they're gone

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

Nothing I do satisfies you
I'm not funny enough
my looks are to rough
I eat to much stuff

I know you'll say adieu
and leave for a better girl
let's face it she's a pearl
compared to this churl

I know I'm not much
not much of anything
and I tend to cling
to you for everything

I'm kind of out of touch
and we don't always agree
with what I should be
for you to love me

I can't seem to meet
all your expectations
all these sensations
and unfamiliar situations

Leave me off the beat
of how and what I should feel
I can't seem to meet your ideal
everything feels surreal

like sage or olives
tastes like meadows and fresh dew
like forests and life

Papers are due
I haven't even started
my college career is thru

Tests and papers strewn
everywhere this week
and my head is a typhoon

A sharp bursting flash
oxidations reductions
and a flash of light

Float gently down
Little speck of white
Updrafts push you round
Running through the sky
Roofs covered with you now
Illuminating the world with sparkles
Each inch of you reflecting sunlight
Soft gentle snow I watch you fall down

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

jumping jacks
slimy smiles
fantastic froggy

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