I scrub and claw,
and the water runs clear
but the blood on my hands
is red as ever,
it beats and pulses
like the blood in my veins.
Turning my back,
I'm giving up.
I'm returning to my haven,
not so safe,
not so sound,
where I scream.
The Chill of MeltingThe loving hands which shaped these feathers
bade me fight the fire and forsake the water,
find the space between.
Then those hands released me from our cage,
and from my mind all was gone.
The empty openness of the sky
was the same as that of my mind.
Curiosity flew to me on her silver wings
and, landing on my back,
bade me soar.
She flew into my throat and sat in my heart
warming her iced hands at the fire of my freedom.
She bade the flames burn brighter,
for her hair was tangled with frost,
her eyes had become crystals of ice,
and snow now flowed through her veins.
She sang to me a song of winter,
and in the spring sun
I sprung from the cold shadows.
Her breaths of mist filled my wings
and chilled my blistering skin.
Her icy tears streamed from my ember eyes.
She gathered the cinders in her icicle fingers
and cooled my burning fear.
But as she sang her song,
the fire bade me fall.
Curiosity’s laughter screamed in my ears.
As the ashes swirled like snow,
I floated past the soft
LabyrinthDarkness will, in this maze,
scream in the ears of wanderers.
Darkness will, in this labyrinth,
crawl into the hearts of men.
Darkness will, in this endless hall,
silence escaping words and drag the rain from eyes of children.
Darkness will, in this prison,
ColorlessFeel openness around you,
lending its strength to the worn wood
bending beneath you
and holding you up.
The trees clutch you close to their chests,
comforting your unseeing eyes.
In the quiet around you
blooms the silent flower,
your own breathing the only thing to sound
alongside the avian lullabies
singing the sun to cool slumber.
Swallow the birds’ calls,
keeping the chill of the night from your skin.
Hear the trees’ heartbeat,
beating a rhythm for your own.
Breathe in the silence
pooling about you.
Because when you’re alone
your empty eyes can see.
Red LeatherMy eyes kissed the tough wagon,
“I’m afraid I’ve surprised you” said the wheel,
as red leather rocks took the shock and flew.
They flew twice as high as the wall,
flew past the stars and grew into the moon,
as the clouds sang, loud proud and true.
The frog sat inside the mailbox,
as someone pushed a pile of post,
the wide face swung forward and bit.
Paper bruised and cut its poor throat,
so our little frog melted to soft mud
and snow fell on the hot tarmac.
Wavering heat feasts on bones,
bones disowned by the scrap dogs.
Children mutter proverbs in silence,
their eyes lamps of sugar and spice
and as the gasping earth drinks its tea,
lambs die and no one hears their cries.
Away From HomeChantel walked along the boring, grey hallway like she did everyday on the way to group therapy. Walking down those halls really reminded her how much she hated the color grey. The walls were grey, the ceiling was grey, the furniture was grey, the sky outside was often grey; the color grey seemed to be a pandemic and, the first point of infection was the building she now lived in. She was an inpatient at a sanitorium surrounded by bucolic fields, trees and, as Chantel had figured when she arrived, nothing else. Thinking about the surrounding countryside reminded her of how she had been dropped at Mountainview Sanitorium by her untenably furious parents just a week ago. However, it seemed like years since she was sitting in the leather back seat of the family Volkswagen, duffel bag at her feet. The door to group therapy and the face of her friend Claire woke her from her reverie.
“Dude, lets go! Doc is gonna kill us if we’re late again,” Claire smiled as she remembered
On losing a friend(it did not end in tears.)
I could give you armfuls of oceans, great
mountain ranges wrapped in silver bows,
a coral reef gleaming like a sapphire chain
but you will always ask for a dormant volcano
and a star you can hold in your palm.
And I have tried to be that star, have tried to
combust bright enough, shrink small enough
but it is never enough for you. You kiss my
mouth with those carmine lips and swallow my
heartbeat with your gentle laugh and I glow
I glow and you go you go you go on stringing
me along a trail of crumbs, making me forget
that I am starving myself for your table scraps.
I could press the slats of pre-dawn light into your
answering machine, could fold dust columns that
fall between venetian archways into your bedsheets,
could hang the lost jewels of jaguar fangs clattering
above your dreamcatcher and you would only ask for
a dormant volcano and a brittle sea-salt glass wave.
And I have tried to capture the tides and I have tried
to blow glass but my hands are clum
DarknessThe disease came in the form of quiet, loving destruction.
It pulled me out to sea,
Waves crashing in on me from all directions.
It planted lilies in my throat.
Until I choked on
Roses and chrysanthemums.
It made my mind my own personal head stone.
Nothing but polluted words
The flowers made it sound so playful and innocent when I said,
'I am better off dead.'
You rage wars.
Tugging at the skin underneath my eyes.
Of a once friendly stranger's goodbyes.
Quiet and loving.
You made me fall in love with the velvet of your darkness.
The way you cloaked yourself around me.
You gave me the piercing control of a knife.
'Death isn't a disease. It is a solution.'
A solution to the dark abyss.
Nags at the back of my skull.
It makes my eyes dull.
The darkness loved my light.
It loved it so much,
It was a parasite.
It stole my sun.
Now I am just a super nova
Collapsing in on itself,
Until I, myself, become the black hole.
A Letter to My Best FriendA letter to my best friend, for when he is feeling badly
When your sunny skies turn to thunder clouds.
When you can't hear your own thoughts
Over rumbling drum rolls of thunder.
I will be the umbrella to protect you
From the freezing rain.
I'd set my bones aflame
Watch them spark and burn.
I'd turn my soul into a Bon fire
Just to keep you warm.
I'd catch fire flies like stars.
I would keep them in a jar
And give them to you.
Because you light up the dark of the night sky.
When I am feeling blue
You are the one that helps me get through
The murk of my lonely thoughts.
And sometimes, I don't feel like you see yourself clearly.
I wish you could see you
The way I do.
I see you in the stars
You talk about them so fondly.
Every constellation reminds me of you.
I wonder if you are made of cosmos.
Such chaotic, pure energy,
I see you in the rain.
You are cold
I'd dance to the music of your soft,
Pitter- patter melody.
I see you in the air I breathe.
Because you are the thing
Fairy Tale GirlFairy tale little girl.
She wears a crown upon her head,
And befriends the monsters under her bed.
She sings songs to birds.
But no one ever heard
Her cries when the castle walls came tumbling down.
Real world little girl.
She weaves herself a fantasy inside her mind.
Hoping to find
The same peace from when she was young.
And she's like water colors.
So soft, and easily washed away.
She is the soft blues in the morning of a new day.
I found her hiding within her tower.
Far above the real world below.
She is so broken but never lets it show,
So desperate for some fairy tale ending.
She asked me quietly one day,
'Do you think the world will ever be like my story books?'
I thought for a moment before replying,
'In order to survive there are some bad things you have to overlook.'
'The world is grey.'
I heard her say one day.
As if accepting the odd mixture of good and bad.
Her voice sounded happy and sad,
All at once.
As she ripped away the last page
In her story book.
Your feelings are validI once read
that a teaspoon of matter
from a black hole
can weigh thousands of tons
so think about that
when someone tells you
your problem is no big deal
it may not look
like you have the weight of the world
upon your shoulders
but it sure can feel like it.
The Rogue FactorRise, fall, get up, stumble and run
it's getting harder to catch a breath
in this cloud of scorching lies you've shoved me in.
Stop right there, I am not following you again
you, the one who held a scythe to my throat,
had only brought me closer to a death I didn't cry for.
It's a price I've paid for having faith in
you, the one with blooming roses
and stinging, poisonous thorns.
Whose dreams was I chasing?
Were they yours, mine or
were they the illusions of a distant fall?
Heaven and Hell crossed at your feet
but you took the wrong turn and blindly led the way,
straight into a fire that welcomed me with open arms.
Doubt someone like you can atone,
you, the one with a habit of tearing souls.
Yet here I stand, and fight
against you, once and for all.
I grew tired of letting you take control.
I found a strength in a goal you can't claim,
my life and my work are no longer yours.
Hope shines bright you monster,
I'm not going to be a victim,
I'm not holdi
Eighteen Years OldTwenty years old, and unhappy with the world.
Twenty years old and threatening teenage girls.
Twenty years old and unsure of who you are.
Twenty years old and hiding behind keys
and a space bar.
At twenty years old, your anger gets the best of you,
at twenty years old, I'd hate to be you.
At eighteen years old, I feel sorry for you,
despite the amount of agony you've put me
Because the one who is the giver of your life
criticizes your appearance and your size.
Despite talking, and the gawking,
and all in between,
I know you're just a poor man suffering.
But you're twenty years old, and you should
You're twenty years old,
and you'll never understand this letter.
Fifteen years old, with the mind of a toddler.
Fifteen years old, and though I'm writing this,
I shouldn't even bother.
Fifteen years old, and you're already a professional stalker,
you're toxic, your disgusting, and a suicide blogger.
Fifteen years old, and life is a game, you can ruin people,
play with pe
uncertainty is a meal i can always finish.i.
she says she thinks i wear my heart well,
and i tell her it's only because i don't wear it at all
sometimes i think my veins are breaking because they get so thin and purple
and sometimes they are blue as the sky we live under,
bulging beneath the unbroken skin of my wrists like they are straining to touch
the oxygen that writhes above them, so close to contact but
never able to truly meet.
we stay together, not through thick,
only through thin
my friend confessed her sexuality to us
maybe three months back,
but i still can't seem to find my own "label"
and it is sad because i want to be able to label myself in a
world where we are shamed by our names
i live in a city where the people care so little for each other
that each passing day i am painfully reminded
of how much i can hate
and not enough of how much i can love
formyou plucked the strings
of my mind with every syllable
you whispered in my pillowcase
and you docked them
with your own notes,
as we lay together
in eventual silence
and gradual significance.
(a quiet explosion
of so many things
we've finally said.)
asleep is only another
avenue to fall for you.
what a decadent experience
that i try to immerse myself in.
this delicate rarity
has slid a little goddess
into my hands
in the form of you.