(talk to me) so cheap all it takes is some stimulating conversation.
Listen in intently and you might just lure out secrets I didn’t even know existed.
Is it love if you find yourself falling every fifteen seconds? Is is real,
does it matter if you both can feel it?
To be frank, can’t quite relate to my peers (never could),
and I don’t expect to be understood by the many anymore, just leaving this behind for the few,
the bleeding hearts of the future to try to decipher,
on a cold night, when the wind howls and they’re searching for signs that they aren’t completely alone,
that the sadness isn’t forever,
that the void won’t devour them whole.
I can’t color inside the lines
Sprawled out on a mountainside, shrouded in leaves and half-severed vines, I confess to be a wild thing, but you do not hear me.
Spill my blood to write fresh poems that defy rhyme and meter, each word alive, dripping with fervor, but you never read me.
Shouting/marching/fighting for compassion ’til my throat is dry, legs are weak, mind grows fatigued, yet you fail to see me.
In the soft glow of the afternoon, I sing a sad refrain, but the meaning is lost while the melody remains, so you do not feel me.
Still onward I careen, hopes unfettered, dreams undisturbed, for I learned long ago not to bury my soul in any single place or person.
Full Circle
lights
this is your story
love
no matter how hard you tried
couldn’t get enough
all wrapped up in
pain/pity
plated in glory
a crash, a bang
how IT all began
and nearly ended
spinning
glass flying through the air
out onto road
now you’re here
alive
all wrapped up in
love
Butterfly Garden
beside the ocean tucked away
a quiet, lonesome, blooming place
life and death wrapped up together
blossoms, one in all forever
xanax
can’t see straight,
too many li(n)es to make anything into solid shapes,
eyes wide, head no longer filled with ache,
heart dancing, mind awake,
every nerve unsettled, watching every wall break,
when sleep finally calls
take me and let it
all
fall
away.
Mornings
Tea cooling next to love letters on the window sill,
dreams real yet surreal, almost tangible.
Sea and mountains in your lungs,
memories, monuments to beloved moments past.
Lessons sewn into your very marrow,
tangled up with the movements of your unconscious mind.
Breathing in every millisecond,
each precious opportunity for growth and death.
Growth and death, an endless cycle,
swirling in your teacup, like leaves
in the autumn breeze.
