Could it be
I've never seen
Beauty in me
Took time to reflect
On all that I am
I haven't shared everything I can
On this soul-searching road
The winds and turns
Each corner holds secrets
Each road taken holds challenges untold
Which road you choose is how life unfolds
Some are rougher, Sometimes it's smooth sailing
All the time I've invested in this world
I've come to realise
Each moment is just a piece strung together
In this story called life
I have no wisdom in my words
All I know is I've survived
Yeah, still alive.

Some would say I feel too much
Some would say, I'm too ******* myself
Mistakes I owned them
Haters I outgrow them
There's a whole lot in me
Only a few people see
A light that shines slightly through the cracks
I'm not all bad
And all this strength gathered
Has taken me to heights
Others couldn't imagine
Like a lighter, a little spark
Can ignite a torch
Revealing truths in dark corners
It's all these things
That makes me a lyrical philosopher
Through these lines I conquer

A man made up of scars
Each marks a tale
Each a reminder of lessons learned
I've been through the ringer
Still standing, And I'll still fight
Until my last breath drains all my might
No matter what the world throws my way
I'll always say...          
"Challenge accepted."
Never gave up
I still dream
I still fight my way
Through each day
No matter the odds stacked against me
I'm a raise my head accept the challenges met

Some would say I feel too much
Some would say, I'm too ******* myself
Mistakes I owned them
Haters I outgrow them
There's a whole lot in me
Only a few people see
A light that shines slightly through the cracks
I'm not all bad
And all this strength gathered
Has taken me to heights
Others couldn't imagine
Like a lighter, a little spark
Can ignite a torch
Revealing truths in dark corners
It's all these things
That makes me a lyrical philosopher
Through these lines I conquer

Nothing is going to hold me down
I'm going to dance like a warrior
All these bad habits couldn't be sorrier
All these battles I've won
Some left me scarred
But through this my skin became hard
Got a thick skin, Never cut through it
Got a good heart, shines through in my art
Belief only takes you so far
Have faith, it'll take you beyond the stars
They say wisdom can't be found in bars
In unlikely places, you can find yourself
And accept it is all you are
All that you've become
Water washes over me
Setting me free
All this dirt cleansed from me
You haven't even seen the best from me

Some would say I feel too much
Some would say, I'm too ******* myself
Mistakes I owned them
Haters I outgrow them
There's a whole lot in me
Only a few people see
A light that shines slightly through the cracks
I'm not all bad
And all this strength gathered
Has taken me to heights
Others couldn't imagine
Like a lighter, a little spark
Can ignite a torch
Revealing truths in dark corners
It's all these things
That makes me a lyrical philosopher
Through these lines I conquer.

Don't make me a role model
That I can never fulfil
All I wanna be is an Inspiration
Show people if they stick to it
They can make it
They won't fail if they fight tooth and nail
Revealing truths through poetic paragraphs
Silver linings rising, capture lightning in a bottle
Hard to contain, just striking in ways they don't expect
In life, you'll realise your blessed
If you take a deep look around
And all that surrounds us
Just shows that you can achieve
Be anything you want to be
And all I choose is to just be me
Open up your heart to see.

Some would say I feel too much
Some would say, I'm too ******* myself
Mistakes I owned them
Haters I outgrow them
There's a whole lot in me
Only a few people see
A light that shines slightly through the cracks
I'm not all bad
And all this strength gathered
Has taken me to heights
Others couldn't imagine
Like a lighter, a little spark
Can ignite a torch
Revealing truths in dark corners
It's all these things
That makes me a lyrical philosopher
Through these lines I conquer

©2018 Written By Benji James

She doesn't own a mirror.

Confirmation of her beauty comes from those around her at all times.
Fawning fools adore,
jealous sisters abhor,
but all notice the shine of her hair, the tilt of her lips.

She does not dance.

Her steps lead, and dancers follow with no reasons nor rhymes. They cry:
"Lead me not into temptation",
but in her ministrations,
they ache and beg for her glance, their hearts in her grips.

She does not care for suitors.

Her heart was long ago dulled by the fencing blades of admirers. And yet I
if honest, must admit
that it is a careless abandon, devoid of wit
that begs me join her jousters in mock combat for the privilege of her kiss.

What a porcelain fool, she, to inspire such a heartfelt, bloodtaxed roust.
What sorrier the fool, me, to join in such a sure dealt, unasked joust.

What She Look Like?
  
…Like one
tenderly hushing
water in her lap
Elemental peace
No place to go
No more to be
…Like the ocean
in the background
of a photo on a warm spring day
belying
rage
and the random possible
thrash--

out!

at all guilty ******* in her path
Toss in the next sentient soul
who should happen to pass
within range
who should have seen
who should have known
what a storm could do….

Moody in the aftermath
and sorrier than rain
With the tide in retreat
grumbling excuses
Hiding out waist-deep in dusk’s Merlot
Waiting for night to sleep it off

to heal the rifts
cleanse the shame

Rising
yellow, bright— and

“What the hell happened, here?!”

____


Her hair
a winter’s tragedy of trees
upside down—
No wait— the wind has put her right
to ragged random branches
swaying, wet with intermittent hues
of dark and silver
caught in collar, flying inelegant and free
at the shoulders of the levee
tossed and softening shyly
sagging jaw and nose a stump of tree
All perspective changes…

if you watch a while—

She’ll raise her eyes
into the sunset
to catch an eagle
entering
flight

…and then you might…

___

She looks like—
a pudgy robin
querying grass
mud soaked
that hides the fire of her breast
tugging at a worm
more than half her length
“I will feed them, **** you!
Give it up, you son of a snake!”
_____

...Don’t miss her hour of music though
for anything
Encroaching darkness
from the rooftops
she listens to the hearts she breaks

Remember this in winter
she can give but she will take
it out on February
when you’re longing
for her

I.  ****** Transient

Overnight takes on new meaning
when the sun never sets and will never rise.

This time i didn’t bring words, i brought lines.

And Esmeralda danced circles around my eyes.
You gypsy ***** You.
Leading me confused,
                  with knees low and back hunched,
                                    into a labyrinth of solitude.

Embarrassed of what exactly?
i’ve barred scars more deep than scars
like profound pools of black sticky tar
that almost suffocates with its gluttony
and still You wouldn’t look away.
And now i pay a price as images intertwine
                           creating zebra patterned designs
                                             on the alcoves of my mind.
         Black, White
They contrast in spite of the connection.
         and I wear this contrast like an emblem,
                  hanging from my throat,
                           heavy on my heart.
                                    yet with the delicate touch of some
                                             slippery silvery chain…
                                                      It almost rids me of the pain.


Back turned or give me the front,
i still want either way.
A petrifying carnival of desire,
making my eyes tire of this display
and my lips itching to play,
a lilac purple tongue,
and bronze arms on the way.

You feign revolution by shutting the door in my face.

A shuddering sigh and flutter of a heart,
                           as caged ribs start to part,
                                   liberated room for more,

i’ve become an emotional *****,
lips wet with anticipation,
pulsating with a passion,
that You defined as infatuation.

And that i just couldn’t define.

-or rather-

defined as a transition in time.

****** Transients* would abstractive-ly be the best,
         but the abstract, once put to the test,
floats past concrete lines,
and creates a world of its own where, even as a stranger,
                  i feel right at home.
                                    Lioness of the abstract dome.


Razor sharp You
        sliced a tingling into the souls of my feet,
        and week after week i did nothing but smile at my own loss
        of balance.

The feminine reemerging as the phallus,
and the phallus in comfort with its feminine home.

         i patiently wait for my Special Kinder Surprise,
                                    and meanwhile,
                                             satisfy myself with imagination,
                                                    ­           to which an interpretation,
         would require the use of a million scholarly texts,
                                    which still wouldn’t attest to this degree
Of Vulgarity,
         or this degree
Of Sexuality,
         or this degree
Of Spirituality.

Like the slaughter of fowl for mythological pride;
                           You hide behind an altar,
                                    and with all the holiness i posses,
I intend to pull through and impress with Determination.
                           --and the petrifying realization—
that You are Artemis and i soon to be set upon by the hound
                                                           - choking ego to the ground.


But ****, it was worth it.

worth the,
vulnerability
worth the,
audacity
worth the,
ecstasy,
-It naturally dissolved within me.

Only to be pushed down by an incessant flipping of the door,
an incessant call to reality.

is the overnight truly Over?
      —or pray mercy and tell me its begun.

The rising Sun seems determined to puncture the fun,
And the valiant battle with Apollo seems already to have been won.



II.  ****** Ensnared
  
I’m getting tired of this ****.

A tantrum fit as if we were kids of three.
Stomping on adult realized priorities.
We wear our hair like a mask,
                  we analyze our clothes,
                           personify the persona we wish to adapt,
         and commend that same personal persona
         complimenting its research studied aura.
                                                    
--I’d rather stay in this dream forever.
  (you judged me by my hair
   yet remained unaware
   to what it masked.)

Please don’t preach to me about consideration.

The obliteration of that term in action shocks me.
Truth be told?—I’m quite Angry, and I feel used,
Yes, believe it or not, Abused.
Infiltrated and Dominated.

And I am a Leo at heart.

So to part with my throne will only be met with roars of defense;
                                                        ­       to be direct, Aggressiveness.


My interlude is met with seclusion—
         isolation to the utmost degree—
and I see that the world agrees, as I’m met
with a phone with no tone
and a power-cut of electricity,
while the world contracts visibly
and the static in the air
ensnares my fiery wrath,
and storms overhead
are weighed down with
anxiety and dread
that express themselves
in raindrops, that I lovingly
call tears.


I fear this is me at my limit---
        And I exhibit nothing but ferocious gloom.

This room which contains me is not enough,
And I will huff
And I will puff
Until the walls come down.
                  And the only sound to be heard,
                           is the numbing effect of silence.

My Rifle stands ready to be shot and plunge through that stubborn heart
of yours until it is rejected or until the reflected opinion dominates. Is it
too much to ask for a change of heart?
Empathy? Understanding?
Basic societ-ical handling?
Apparently yes.
So I detest
having to put in.

The waterworks that I display
convey nothing but submission
to your inconsideration.
                  And the devil in me crosses her fingers
                  for experience by example,
                  as elephants trample over logic
                  and the symbolic is simply symbolic.
                                             That’s too much reason for my taste.
                                             And I see that it was a waste
                                             Trying to impress with determination.

****** Ensnared has denied a nation of people their feelings,
                  listening, with unappealing resolution
                  satisfying herself with this conclusion:
                  “Let them eat Cake.”


--It’s true.
You can’t have your cake and eat it too.



III. ****** Verbalize

On a park bench it took me quite by surprise,
my eyes met with scripture
recognizable though not to my hand,
the band on my finger tightened and
yet the anger seized.
         -- How could I not have surmised ****** Verbalize to enlighten me?--


“Your Majesty;
         I owe you My Apology-
                  And I couldn’t be sorrier for my selfish self
                  has decided to rest after this long period.

For She was too busy
trying to make you feel safe and home
--She was too busy trying to suppress her ****** up
whipped cream so that you can have you cake and eat it too—
But She failed.

        You believe ****** is selfish,
then I’m afraid you never knew ******.
                  --****** loved you with wide arms open and she
                  Was pleased to meet you.

She hopes it was a useful transition for You.

.THE END.
The ******”

I am so sorry
that you have had to adapt to your name being "woman"
I am so sorry
that your pleas for help,
are referred to as *******
I am so sorry
that you learned to laugh it off
in the evening after he raised his voice at you
I am so sorry
that you are reminded daily that without him
you wouldn't last in this world
and I am even sorrier
that your son grew up
watching his father speak down to you
because now he treats me
the way you have been treated

The windows are barred, and the fire alarm is broken.
Perhaps these measures of safety, are merely a token.
Sent to stoke  careful ways, and to make  regular patrons.
The note that is in between the staves, is neither here nor there thus are the knaves.
They often play sinners and lure them in with promises, of the outlaws much craved solemnity, thus leading them to their graves.

After the matter, he said he saw it like an old black-n-white
because I had said I loved Cary Grant films.
But I know now that he couldn’t have possibly
because he told me he hated classics.
We stood three baby steps away from each other
on that beautifully manicured stretch of green.
He smiled so widely and wildly,
seeing as if through a sleeping gas dream haze,
I, ever cautious, looked with clear, hard blue eyes
and scrutinized and analyzed until
the grass was jaded green and the blue sky
was smudged with laundry grey clouds.
He told me excitedly, in what he assumed
was a lover’s pur, that he had something for me.
I thought the tone was an aggressive command
and I snapped my eyes back from the splotch
of mud from my boots, and was horrified to find
that I was now a mile away from him.
How’d I end up here, and why didn’t he notice
I wasn’t where he was? When I asked after the matter,
he said with venom that he assumed I would follow,
like I always did.

He had pulled from his pocket a beating pink heart
and stretched his arm out to me, but I shook my head.
I can’t reach it from here, I really tried to let him hear.
I am no where ready to take that!
But he smirked with older superiority,
a grin I had come to loathe,
and brought his arm back behind his head,
like a veteran pitcher at the mound, and followed through.
But he was never in baseball, he was a speech kid in high school,
he didn’t know how to throw, and the wind picked up
that little pink heart like a paper plane.

I tried, I really did. I ran until my lungs ignited
with blood, pumped my legs until the muscles
fell off, strained my hands and fingers forward until they were as long
as red oaks in an ancient forest.
But it wasn’t enough. I was still thousands of feet
away from catching the weak little ball of emotion,
because I hadn’t played ball since I was fifteen.

The delicate little heart landed in this thick brown mud puddle.
On such a lovingly cared for lawn, why was there
a huge-*** mud pond?!
I frantically waded in to try to and help it.
When I found it, the heart was contentedly
sitting in the mud as if it had landed in
a warm kettle of chocolate.
I was sad to see it so easily mislead, and knew I had to return
because I knew I couldn’t clean this little bruised ******.

As gently as I knew how, I eased it out of the mud,
and stoically walked back to the boy
who had so carelessly thrown his heart.
Unfortunately, the grass was slicker than i thought,
and the sun was in my eyes, and I guess
I’m just clumsier than I thought, so about five steps away
I tripped and dropped the fragile little heart.
As the tender pink thing landed, finally it
and he noticed the state everything was in.
He looked down at the banged, muddy heart
and I watched in fear as his eyes filled up.
With quiet misunderstanding he asked
how could this happen? Why did you do this?

I must admit, I just can’t do displays of emotion,
so I told him I was sorrier than words could say
and as iron bars of guilt began to pile along my shoulders,
I turned 180 degrees away from him.
I felt his hand reach for me, but all he could grasp
was my rustling skirt, and I couldn’t bare to see him,
so I sprinted forward and let my dress rip to flowing shreds.

The air from his screams helped pushed me into a flight.
The sooner I disappeared, the sooner he’d take notice of his heart,
I kept telling myself this, praying for this.
After the matter, when I asked what he saw,
all he said was a pretty girl that dropped his heart at his feet,
and step on it, smeared it with her ***** boots.
I deserved the harsh words, I do know that.
This is no plea for the girl that broke your heart,
but did you ever think she might have really tried,
and it isn’t completely her fault? Sometimes she’s
afraid to see your name on her phone
because she can’t bare to see the beaten heart
she just couldn’t save.

do you remember that time i had a stomachache and you stayed up all night with me, drawing pictures on a pizza box? or the time tried we to skip rocks and mine would always just sink, sink, sink to the bottom and oh, how retrospectively that irony is killing me. i’d count my summer freckles and we’d try to count your always freckles but it was endless just like the dysphoria catching myself right before i fall. always, me. i’m sorry that i always use the wrong words, and i am sorry that i can’t always pull myself up by my bootstraps. and i’m even sorrier that i can only stutter paradoxes at the most cardinal of moments. instead of lub-dubbing my heart is singing that bittersweet symphony out of tune and it seems a little silly that it all happens like this. and it seems even sillier that i rub these things onto my skin like you’d rub the engraving of a tombstone, to remember that they disappeared but they’ll always haunt you.

Today it is snowing,
and redwings are in the holly tree.

Yesterday it snowed
a soft, wet snow
that clung to the bare twigs
of the trees in the park
turning them into mounds
of silver filigree.
The holly tree in my garden,
scarlet berries, dark green leaves,
and branches covered in white
was a picture fit for a Christmas card.

Today also it is snowing,
and redwings are in the holly tree.
They come to my garden
in hard winters
looking for food,
and the berried twigs I would have cut
to decorate the house
will not last long.
A score of beautiful Scandinavian thrushes,
flashing their red underwings
as they flutter in the branches,
will finish the harvest today.

It may not snow tomorrow,
but the frost will preserve the snow
that lies on the trees and gardens.
The redwings will find food for a few days more
from the crab-apples in the back garden
before they move on,
looking for their next meal.
Sorry as I am to lose my holly berries
– for I shall have none to decorate the house –
I shall be sorrier to lose my lovely visitors.
But today it is snowing,
and redwings are in the holly tree.

The walk is getting slow
The talk is getting low
The heart is losing flow
its getting harder to see the light at the end...

The trial is getting hard
The devil plays his card
his trump shatters the shard
of my heart in the light at the end...

BOOOOMMMM!!!!

DANGER!!! DANGER!!!!

The warning blares in my mind
A simple way to find
that im trudging in the opposite direction
of my long awaited
never anticipated
always given
salvation

So i turn around...

Blindness...
Warmth...
Love...

Ive been at the portal to the tunnel for so long
and i realize through revelation
that all the light in my past direction
was nothing but a distant reflection
Satan's sorry attempt at misdirection
and my sorrier attempt at self-navigation

I had lost my compass
I had forsaken the plan
I had lost my map
I had forsaken "I CAN"

Now I'm FREE.
I CAN BELIEVE.
I CAN SEE.
I CAN BE.
I CAN.

She said she doesn't feel them
So there would be a hard time getting someone to biopsy them
And they're multiple some are hard some are big and theres NOTHING I can do
(Nothing)

Your anxiety was worthless so STOP IT
(Please, stop.)

And even though I'm supposed to feel good-
Like I'm healthy and OK and
Not going to die any second-

I still feel as though they're going to find cancer.
Someday.

And they'll be sorry,
But I'll be sorrier.

I am my sober side
Not the one you see
Drinking a slow suicide
I am not really me

I am my sorrier side
Not the one you hear shout
Deserving some soap inside
A foul insincere mouth

I am my somber side
Not the one laughing
Ignorant and amused
living In worlds of nothing

I am my depressed side
Not the one you feel
Tickling your fancy down the slide
I hide my face and kneel

I am my repressed side
Not the one you sense
Has hope in Hell on the outside
Of my lily-white fence

To whom it may concern
Though there aren't many of you at all.
I am deeply sorry.
Not an apology at all, no.
I am a sorry sort.
One to steer clear of,
You may catch the taint of my
Sorryness.
There are ghosts around me
Of squandered opportunities,
Chances never taken,
Disappointments.
Oh, I am sorry.
I am sorry that I may never meet you,
Though I know that you exist.
I am sorry that we may never find the
Joy that the other can bring
Though I am sure that that joy would be fleeting.
I am sorry that I love you
But sorrier that you have no idea
And that I don't know who you are.

This time - things change.
Perhaps change isn't the correct word...they vanish.
The sins and errors: no more.
The tears and pain: non-existant.

You, i do not deserve.
Nevertheless, need you.
And no...to let you go is never, never has been
and never will be, even an option.

To the others i will talk  no more.
The others i will see no more.
There wasn't any others...
Just the curiosity of my inhibitions.

**** that human urge!
Oh, **** that human nature!
For sorrier I have never been and the words said now
Are as real as the air we breath.
    
Thus.
Here i sit, in this lonesome place.

Full of ignorant people who stare at me and feel pity.
Pity! Ha. Not even sympathy.

Yet here i sit.
Writting words that to you, have no meaning.
But here i sit
...still writting
...still grieving.

Thinking of what to say -
only if there was anything to say.
Thinking of what to do -
only if there was anything to do.
Thinking of us -
only if there was any 'us'.

Everything becomes insignificant
if not of yours.
Everything is now nothing.
But what is nothing?
The absense of everything.
And everything?
- is you.
    
To live on with my life. Impossible.
To act like this doesn't affect me. Impossible.
To let you walk away in pain. Impossible.
To hurt you once more. Impossible.
To listen to the so-called advice. Impossible.
To laugh at the most probable ending. Impossible.
To not love you?
That too, impossible is.

Thus.

Here I stand.
In front of you i will place myself.
My eyes will stare into yours and
(though i'm probably confusing reality with my own fantasy)
in loyalty and bliss we will prevail.

The love will overstep human instincts.
For what we have isn't human
- it's godly.
    
So here.
    
One more written promise.
Only this time there isn't a third person to influence.
Only this time, though capable of sharing,
to myself i keep.

The start of a new beginning - if you will.

Because as hard as you may try
to stare at me with disgust and anger,
it's as how much it is visible in your eyes
that you want this 'game' to end as much as i do.

For i still see the love -
and the possible forgiveness.
For i still see
the hope.
    
True love doesn't vanish into thin air.
It doesn't vanish because of the errors.
As much as you may want to escape from it -
it stays.

And it only grows.
    
I'm deeply sorry you had to pick the one
that only learns the hardest of ways.
But she does love you.

That - has never been a lie.
It is as much as a lesson to me
as it is to you.

I'm too nice. It makes you feel bad. It makes you feel mean. It makes you uncomfortable, being silent when I reach out.
Reasons to leave.
I'm too attentive. You can always be sure I'll try my hardest for you. Buy you little things. Bring flowers. It's boring. You know it shouldn't be but somehow it's just too predictable. Somehow you wish you wondered if I'd stay, and every day I reassure you that I will.
Reasons to leave.
I'm too in love. My love for you makes you feel guilty, as if you can never match it. My sensitivity to your desires makes me sensitive to your dissatisfactions, and although you know it shouldn't, it irritates you that you can hurt me. It makes you feel uncomfortably inadequate again. You remind yourself that love is not a contest between lovers to be the most devoted, nor to be the least injured, and so you've neither lost nor won, but still you have a sense of both, an unsettling sense of both.
Reasons to leave.
Your discomfort leads you to anger. You lash out, ashamed even as you do, and my forgiveness enrages you. You want me to hate you. Want me to react as you would if you were abused. Wish you weren't the abuser. Wonder how you became so. Hate me for bringing it out in you, for before you met my soft, pliant love, my understanding heart, my forgiving mind, you never wanted to strike anything lovely with the flat of your hand to watch the welt rise, a satisfying flaw.
Reasons to leave.
Who are you becoming? Who have you become? It can't be you who is wrong, not when you've only been reacting. I've laid myself down. That must be it. I have goaded and invited you. I've tricked you into hurting me and then shed tears as if I didn't know it'd sting, and yet I refuse to fight you. It must be because I can't. If I could, it would mean that you were attacking someone who meant you no harm, only love, only LOVE! No, no it must be that I have no fangs of my own, only guises. It must be that the only way I can hurt you is to lower you, to make you hurt me and then feel the guilt of it, to turn you against yourself. I have engineered this. You won't be tricked by me! You will keep on until I admit I planned to control you.
Reasons to leave.
It has been too long. Something is amiss. By your estimations, I should have folded by now- confessed that I was never nice, only weak. Repented. Explained that I tempted your cruelty in order to make you loathe yourself. Apologized. Begged. But it has been too long, and I am still forgiving, I am still hurt but not vicious. You decide I need to understand I've done wrong. Apologize, you say.
Reasons to leave.
I do. I am sorry. And you find that the sorrier I am, the angrier you are. The more I tell you you are right, the more you want me to tell you you're wrong. To fight. To be cruel. Untoward. Wrong. You want me to fight so that I will prove I am like you, show my colors. After all, I made you this way. I must be as you are to have brought such venom out in you with such skill. I apologize again. I beg. And you find that the begging makes you want to hurt me, sink a knife between my ribs to watch me squirm the way you're squirming, spitted on the notion that perhaps, just maybe, I was never cunning or sneaky, never manipulative, never trying to take you down... The growing, sickening feeling that maybe I was telling the truth, maybe I loved you, love you. Maybe I really just wanted to bring you flowers.
Reasons to leave.
And now you can't look at me. You wish beyond anything you have ever wished before that you still believed me underhanded. But the part of you that respects me is growing, that understands me, and with it grows a horror that you have acted on a false certainty. And now even as you realize that, you realize that if you apologize, I will forgive you. And if I forgive you, you will hate me for it. And if you hate me for it, you will no longer have any excuse outside the boundaries of yourself. If you hate me for it this time, it will be from a dark, ugly thing inside you. Something you will have to be responsible for.
Reasons to leave.
Because if you never acknowledge it, never apologize, I can never forgive you truly, right? And if I can't, then you can't hate me, and you can't have been so wrong. And so you don't. And for a while it seems to work. But then you realize that somehow, I am not holding you responsible for your cruelties. Nobody is. You've not acknowledged them, and I've found some infuriating way to ignore them and love you past them. And you realize it's not fair. You need it to be fair. It's maddening. It makes no sense.
Reasons to leave.
And now you understand that there is only one way to escape the torture of being forgiven for something awful that you never even apologized for, having sidestepped so many imaginary snares that you've tangled yourself up in your own assumptions and insecurities.
And so
You leave.

Do you remember when everything we had
was just merry go rounds and shared
words and tears
shed over others
over several years
and not between ourselves
when our scars were the shapes
that childishness could still hide
and for the sake of others we put our desires on secret shelves
and we still talked and there were still lines to read between
and hide behind
and we used to walk and together lose our minds
in parking lots sitting in trucks
bad to the bone - thats what those moments were to us-
when windshields scattered tears of the sky,
and as much as we laughed we really wanted to cry-
do you remember when you told me that you get scared in thunderstorms
so i always came to see you when it was raining
do you remember? Before i called you baby?
I still wanna be that, and i  am missing it lately
i'm sorry, but i'm sorrier those days escape me.

at night I can fall asleep by counting the rolls of fat on my stomach
a steady, calming, everyday weight that doesn't feel as bad as it looks;
but sometimes what I feel seems foreign, and I am restless
because I once had a flat stomach and I can remember how that felt,
almost.

in the mornings I wake up,
get out of bed
and mark the start of each new day with the very first collision of my thighs.
I think that I don't hate my body as much as I should.
I feel sorrier for whoever has to see me like this than I do for myself.
these are things I tell myself; I think I may believe them.

I notice my round stomach trying to escape the waistline of my jeans
I have picked and pulled at the stretchy skin that drowns my arms
I have sat down and gaped at the remarkable resemblance that my thighs have to a pair of lumpy, fleshy, potatoes

somedays I say " it won't look that way when I stand up"
those are good days.

& I remember all of the clothes I have given away to christie
two beautiful coats that I had picked out myself not all that long ago,
and they were loved very much
and worn very little
and they were bought by my mother
two beautiful coats that press my arms so tight that I can't move them
not even to take a drag off my cigarette or unlock my car
they look like they were made for her.

my jim morrison shirt that was black&white;& I bought it at the boardwalk on venice beach out of the back of a pickup truck barely thirty feet from the ocean
my jim morrison shirt that I cut last spring to the midriff and beaded it myself for an hour on my dorm room floor, had my roommate hem it & never wore it again.
it looks like it was made for her.

& there are days when she comes home from the thrift shop,
with full plastic bags of dresses, and lace, and florals, flannels and blouses
and she'll say "lookwhatIgotisntitnice?andofcourse you can wear it too."
and I don't know if she actually means it
sometimes I think she does & I don't know how that makes me feel
and I don't know if she actually means it
but we both know that I'll never ask.

I’ve been jaded; so misplaced
Almost faded, like I’m in outer space
Understated – are the problems we all face
Living them day after day
And killing us all without a trace
So complicated
This chip upon my shoulder is so heavily weighted
Frustrated
Is one of the many feelings I feel
Like it’s all so surreal and I’m afraid these wounds will never heal
I’m sorry to say it
But I’d be sorrier if I let another minute delay it
Go on and say to me
Whatever you want to – but believe
The truth will set you free
And then bring you to your knees
Everybody has a hard time
Eventually walk in a straight line
Might get knocked down low
But bounce back up on a dime
Try to follow all the right signs
Get a piece of all that limelight
And every now and then -
A few good hours of sleep are always key at night
I feel so old and not my age
I’m working the maximum at a job
For an unrecognized minimum wage
And each time that I seem to catch a break
That means there’s only more to take
From these driven hands that are mine
And the stakes are setting higher and higher
I’d turn to the lowest buyer if he sold me a life less expired
I’m tired
This isn’t a country; it’s a god ****** empire
With a liar as our sire
And no real direction except to open fire
On any person who’s unlike ourselves
Who doesn’t share our dreams, our fortunes or our wealth
Whose malignant health is just slipping away
While their homes all decay and we say
“Well, Hey; They should have known better.
Should have done this or done that.”
Yet they’ve never known debt or how it feels to fall back
To have to cover up scars or want to run to the car
When your mother pays for groceries with a government issued EBT card
The people standing around
Sometimes they’d look to the ground
And it brought and pounded me down
Until I realized there were worse things to be found
Lurking around darkness and not making a sound
It’s not all money issues
You have celebs who spend a thousand dollars on some day shoes
They’ve got their photo shoots and their penthouse blues
With their lives all misconstrued;
I bet they know the most about being used
And getting bad reviews
Their every move is always in the news
And we Choose to watch this instead
While headlines inform us all that thousands are dead
We must be numb in the heart and head
For no word that’s been said has pulled us away
And led from the dread of this awful place as of yet
My only possessions are dreams
My only words of wisdom are things are not as they seem
There are things in between, unseen
Disguised as make-belief
History follows a cycle; it’s on repeat
Full of deceit and scare tactics
Designed to be eclectic and full of the static
That makes you want to ball up your hands
Makes you want to take a stand and grab a piece of your own land
Whether it’s a mountain or a beach of white crystal sand
And scream forever how they should “**** the Man!”
But I know
Things get cloudy before they get clearer
So I tell myself as I look in the mirror
“Worthy peace is worth a fight  and
There is a dawn; there is a light
You’ll find it for yourself when your time is right
Keep that head and heart up even if in spite
Of all the people who try to keep you inside the lines
Be kind to others but be kinder to You
Remember time fades and beauty will too
Believe in yourself and believe in the good
And by the end you’ll have done all that you should.”

Tear stains through my makeup...
To wake up like this
isn't bliss, it's torture!
on the border line of insanity
Couldn't care less about your vanity
In this moment
I am broken
Broke in two
Broke into my love bank
Empty tank. Sad case.
No love for a fool
For a tool... is what I'm mistaken for
So I lure
forward
Watch my dear
You watch my rear
as I walk away
You will NEVER get another taste
Of me
Delightfully
I'm not afraid
I've played
this game for waaaay to long..
And as time ticks
My mind slips
Into an abyss
And it's tragic
To let go of this
Through your finger tips
I continue to slip
So far down.....
Out of town.
Out of sight.
Right, out of my mind.
Behind this glass of protection
No special detection
of harm needed
The fear was seeded
When you deceived me
no more crying
You stoped trying
So forget tears
I'm a warrior
And you're even sorrier than I expected
I don't regret this
But I AM done!
Like grapes in California sun,
Bouts of drought in the west,
I wish you the best... in life
This is no might
To my delight
I know you can tell
After all of this hell
I'll sail...
Baby this is farewell.

as much as i try to brush it off
fake it
and tell them its ok
i now know how much it hurts
and it makes me even sorrier
i shouldn't have done it
that doesn't make it hurt less though
the wounds in my heart sting
like salt on a cut
fire surges through my bones
growing and growing
and warm tears sit wet on my skin
i don't show them to the others
and as i do show myself there is no evidence.
i am strong,
i am happy,
i am finally free...

First chance holds, the sweetest memories,
Shrouded now, in dense regret;
The pain of loss, un-abating,
As in concrete now is set.

I look for you, in all our places,
Remember the times, I loved so much,
But now you’re gone, beyond my reaching,
Never again will I feel your touch.

Your hair was a joy, a revelation,
Your eyes matched, the emerald sea.
Your warmth, a perfumed celebration,
Was there ever a sorrier wretch than me?

I hug my pillows, in the night,
Stretch across sheets, where you used to lie,
Trying to fill, the void inside me,
Anguished tears do I cry.

For your love you gave, without withholding,
Interwoven, with unfailing trust,
Falsely I broke, the covenant between us,
And the love you felt has turned to dust.


Some mornings I wake, reach out for you,
Feel the pain, because you’re not there,
I fantasize, that we cuddle and talk,
And I try and pretend you still care.

My home echoes emptiness, your spirit has flown,
No excuses, can ever set me free.
You don’t need, explanations,
You know I failed you when I first failed me.

So I’m left, with my sorrow,
My emotions still, bleeding raw.
To be with you, and to hold you,
Kiss you love you again once more.

What I did, was so unforgiveable,
So much less than, what you believed could be,
But remember the man, you once thought so much of,
That’s the real one that is me.

Let me prove it, for the rest of my life,
That the situation, led me awry,
Never again, will I ever hurt you,
I will make you happy if you let me try.

My soul reaches out, in longing yearning,
To see your face, at my door,
For your smile your words, to see you dance,
I implore you, won’t you give me…………A Second Chance.

I am so sorry if I ever hurt you                                                                                   That was the last thing I meant to do                                                                                 I loved you deep within my heart                                                                                All that just rowing kept us apart                                                                                  Your gone know and I need you to know                                                                  Im sorrier than you will ever know                                                                         Sorry we will no longer be together                                                                            Sorry we cant have a cup of tea                                                                               Sorry we cant be the old just you and me

WHAT THE THUNDER SAID

Removing his spectacles
the doctor pinched

the bridge
of his nose

rubbed his eyes roughly

closed them
open them again.

Rain trickled down
the window pane.

Outside
a red tricycle

stood its ground
as if

it were an art
installation.

It's red made more red
by the rain's fury.

Beside it a white teddy bear
soaked to the skin

a sodden thing.

It couldn't be more sorrier

"Well....doctor...well...?"
the mother pleaded.

He turned to her
his words lost

in the thunder.

I thought you were good for me.
But it turned out, I was wrong.
Privately, you acted like I was yours.
But in public, you played a different song.

I followed you like a lost puppy
desperate for love or kindness.
You made me look like an idiot,
and I’m disgusted by my blindness.

Now that you pushed me away,
my eyes have finally cleared up.
You chose everything else over me
and I was nothing but a runner-up.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t be a robot
and that I let my emotions grow.
I thought you’d always be there for me,
and for that, I’m sorrier than you know.  

The worst part is that a piece
of me will always love you.
Despite everything, I pray for you daily
that you may find peace and love that’s true.