crack-ed

[sc] r [e] am [a] bles
I have pulled back each layer wrapping me whole
Pushed myself to reckless and feckless bounds
Dug my nails in and out of my own skin.

Now I sit
pumping, 
bumping,
thumping,
strumming my fingers into night’s quiet song.

Tomorrow will bring tempest sting,
But I will begin
To rebuild again.

I have pulled back each layer wrapping me whole
Pushed myself to reckless and feckless bounds
Dug my nails in and out of my own skin.

Now I sit
pumping,
bumping,
thumping,
strumming my fingers into night’s quiet song.

Tomorrow will bring tempest sting,
But I will begin
To rebuild again.

It’s an existential dilemma to be alive and realize you are not important and that your body, the one you believe belongs to YOU, in fact may not. It may belong to your father, your mother, your boyfriend, your girlfriend, a stranger, your state. It makes some people angry. But good girls don’t get angry, do they? It’s so unattractive. But depression, that’s a different thing.

Ode to Smoke

The fire in my belly has moved to my lungs.
And as the steely dendrites begin to char,
I exhale the slate colored specters of my silent anticipation.

To know that death will come is the only little, red beacon
I will need to guide sleep.

Time, my friend, where have you gone?
Where is it that I can find you complete?
I find your moments scattered, feel you always pressing,
but the eternity promised to me is fleeting.

Derision crosses your lips
as you issue clanging chuckles.

I’ve longed for the day to recede:
waited for cream nights to consume,
dreamed that I could be free
of everything you hold against me.

My feet drag and I am weary.

If I were to ever be lost at sea,
the waves would crash over me
as I sat sipping salty tea
at defeat’s drifting party.

Fuckt

'Twas but a dream,
So starts a fancy ramble
As I scramble to put pieces
Of the jigsaw together.
The edges collide in a hectic mashing
As hyperventilation hiccups
Interrupt the phrasing.
Pacing syllables in do or die moments
Resemble the aching and longing of
Far away places.
Sighs and goodbyes are the only things racing
As my heart stops.

For a second.
And I’m warped.

The swirling that fills my
Every.
Waking.
Moment.
implodes.

Here
I
am
Uuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnn
finite

It’s too much.

So, like the billowing of fresh sheets being spread on a bed, I smother my burning cosmos. I am wrapped. Swaddled and secure, I let loose the unexplainable grief and fear that stings with every bump-a-bump.
The tears edge in,
but this is life
and this is breath
and this is ache.

Fight off fancy,
And fortune will come 
In the squish
In the pull
And the salty fingers of the sea.
Trembles of silver ring 
In the shiver 
In the breath
And the quiver of the limb.
The gold youth rises
In the kiss
In the song
And the glimmering crown of the sun.

Fight off fancy,
And fortune will come
In the squish
In the pull
And the salty fingers of the sea.
Trembles of silver ring
In the shiver
In the breath
And the quiver of the limb.
The gold youth rises
In the kiss
In the song
And the glimmering crown of the sun.

Catcalls for cattails

The river speaks
In low river grumbles
As low as the rush
Of wind swept tree mumbles
And the sky streaks
As passerby cloud tumbles
And upon my tush
I sit in grassy brumbles.

White light

The demons crawl in
The battle begins
Find the white light
wherever it may be

Look up at the sky full of snow
Slowly, the little whites fall on my face
Let them gather.
Laying, they form the mountain of me
I am the white mountains
I am the one that can’t be moved
I am the crest that sees the trees upon my breast
In their white winter coats
And I will hold the dark demons at bay.

Through the night,
The sky holds all
Looking up,
I find my place between bright lights
I am the star
That radiates
I am the heat
That consumes

Demons be damned,
I will scratch and I will bite.

I am the seashell by the shore
I am the empty shell of days to come.

Won’t you hold me to your ear— hear my whispers of the ocean’s growing tide?
Won’t you blow into me— fill me with hot air for the trumpet sound?
Won’t you hold me— so tight that I shatter?
Won’t you cast me to the waves— feel the hair on your arm raise as the blows tear my edges away?
Sally, won’t you buy me?
Sally, won’t you sell me?

I am the carcass of things to be.