WishIf only I had words
to make you feel better
just by writing them down...
or a beautiful day
when you're in stormy weather
and happiness cannot be found.
Just let it be known
you are never alone
when your heart aches
or you feel beyond blue...
you have friends that love you,
respect and adore you,
and we pray
that this you'll get through.
Every SecondTime is pain
Your memories speak.
Life seems too still,
over the edge you creep.
all the faces and places
nothing ever erases...
...it just starts all over again
WritheAs my soul...
my body....spread across the landscape...
I scream inside
to no one.
no one listens.
I scream inside... no one hears.
my life as an insignificant...
is significant to me.
I wallow inside...
The fetal position of self destruction.
'til I crawl..
I'll lift myself ...
To find myself again.
Through the sands of time.
Completely out of mind.
Immortal soul of light.
This repetitious plight.
Of flaws I cannot hide.
Of myself I'll cast aside.
From understanding 'til I die.
of a child.
Victim of her beauty,
Killer of her beauty.
Oh how the child ran.
Faster than her mother did.
Finally had enough of it.
Her trust in all the lies.
She just didn't realize.
Victim of her beauty,
Killer of her beauty.
Time and time again
Awake in her weary world.
Time and time again
she'll take from the little girl.
never looking back.
losing all that.
Victim of her sanity,
Killer of her sanity.
ForgettingThe love was worth remembering,
so vigorous and fulfilling.
In an instant of pain and sadness
how I wish I could forget...
your declaration of regret.
STAINSstains in my mind
Stains to remain
memories of what we were
they're here to remain
stains on my soul
stains so old
and bad times
taking their toll
no bounce back
from our love
so the stains
are to turn into pain
while I so carefully
UnawareWhen you are two and five and ten
you are unaware ––
of the cactus in the windowsill,
how, fragile, each quill bends
and breaks and falls apart.––
Twelve years later, on a Tuesday,
you dream about a boy
who bumps his head
on an iron slate and you wake
in a cold sweat.
You are twelve when you are
always bumping shoulders.
Twenty-two years of Thursday.
There is nothing at all.
And you wonder (and
you wonder why)
each time you wake.
The cactus in the window bleeds
with you when you bump it.
No one ever mentioned
frightened things bite.
So you have always been unaware.
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
Not My Kind of Fairy TaleDon't give me the Knight
Whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the Knight,
Whose armor is dull and broken.
Whose horse is weary,
Whose heart is heavy.
Give me the Knight who looks at the dragon with pity,
For that dragon has done nothing,
And is just as imprisoned as the princess he guards.
Don't give me a princess who only wishes to be saved,
By that Knight whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the princess who wishes to escape yes,
But wants to free the dragon,
Who does not wish to marry her savior--
Nay, give me the princess who wants to explore,
Who wants to live and to learn.
For the years of imprisonment only made her yearn,
Not for the Knight whose armor shines bright,
But to see the world and live in the light.
Do not give me the evil dragon,
Whose soul purpose is to give that bright Knight something to fight.
No, give me the dragon who is weary,
Who longs for the freedom of the sky,
Whose leg is burdened with chains,
And whose heart aches for the princess he must guard,
SaturdayWe slept on the floor when you drank.
– Like worried puppies
too small to reach the bed,
and sat with our backs to the wall
by the bathroom while you showered,
we hid car keys,
Peering over ledges,
I watched your listless eyes
wander to windows
thinking of your mother and marriage,
toes curled around the coffee table corner,
and we begged you to sleep.
Zach cleaned the sinks,
the rugs and the ashtrays,
capped the bottles and placed them
high on the shelves.
You woke to cartoons,
a headache, a fresh
pack of cigarettes. –
We never talked on Sunday mornings.
SurrenderI remember the colors
that night on the porch
when the fireflies claimed
the air around us -
the bright blue
blazing between your fingers
as you said
breathing was a trick
of the night.
I raised your hand
to touch my face,
feeling the pink trail
of the morning
yet to come
humming on your palm
and the deep pulse
of orchid staining my mouth
in soft surrender.
A Somber NightA Somber Night 1/1/07
The times we spent together weigh
heavily on my mind.
Red was your flowing dress
on our second date.
Yellow, the tulips I gave
you on our six month anniversary.
Our life before the incident is a blur.
Green was the grass we laid in
as we gazed at the brilliant stars all night.
What are you thinking now?
Are you thinking at all?
We were as one, our bodies intertwined.
Remember how we would interpret
the shining ones as our imaginations wandered?
I stayed up all night when you got sick.
When I view the stars now...
I die a little inside.
Black is the color I wear.
Blue is the feeling I am fighting.
You were the one I wanted to
drink coffee with every morning.
You left without explanation.
You left too soon.
Orange shined down on your tousled
hair at dawn - the waves remind of pain.
Yellow is the sunrise we can't share anymore.
I envision your last breath.
Anger engulfs my eyes with
The Silver stars never lie,
their light continues to shine,
you can't have it allBut you can have eating wild grapes and their skin like beetle wings
cocooned in bruises. You can have swings that go so high you kick
a hole in the clouds. You can have chickens following you through the front door
and the cat’s gift to say, Look, I am taking care of you.
You can have happiness, but tempered as
your first taste of wine when you hid your puckering face
because you were eight years old and dangerous.
You can have a touch you blush for, ferret hands dancing,
small and terrifying and knowledgable.
You can have an aspiration of “us” held on one stool leg, darting breaths but
never admitting to dreams, to a stew of practicality.
You can talk to her, sometimes,
and even mean something.
You can have the book you stole after she stumbled,
and “that” word sank into your hands. You can’t cure cancer,
but you can have two sets of spoons in the same sink
although she’s only touched the one you lent her,
the one you didn’t expe
each one of us carries cemeteries beneath our skinyou are not the only one
to walk like there are
who looks both ways
before crossing the road
"knew a girl who";
you are alive
and you will experience
hurt, and you will
be so thankful
for every painful breath you take
because it's better than when
everything goes quiet
and all you feel is exhaustion.
there is more than just
one cold snap
before you enter
the winter of your life.
there are spells
of sadness and rage,
hate and denial
of all that you know
and all that you deserve;
and you are not the only one
to fight for everyday you are here,
alive and breathing
and striving to thrive
on such an unforgiving planet,
in such a world
that births emotional deserts
in its people;
you are not the only one
love letters to introvertsi.
To the boy who prefers spending Friday nights at home:
the world does not understand how beautiful silence sounds
As you crack open that book you've been waiting to read,
or plug in your computer,
or listen to music,
or just maybe stare at the night sky from your bedroom window-
(please) remember what everyone else seems to forget;
that being alone does not always equal lonely--
and that sometimes no company is the best company there is.
To the girl who does not speak up in class:
I was once you.
You are not deficient, I promise, despite everyone telling you otherwise.
You might be the only one who will ever know the universes
tucked inside your head,
because they are beautiful secrets you cannot bring yourself to share,
for fear that they might be vandalized.
When you speak,