Spilled Ink
We hold a nuke in our chests.
It leaks toxic power,
and so we write.
We hold pain in our bones.
It brings darkness,
And so we write.
To the void, to a few we write.
Restless are our nights.
Manifesting into words we pour onto pages.
We are the ink.
We cope with the universe's infinites.
It shoots arrows through us,
And so we write.
What is gone, we hold to.
Those that die, we miss.
And so we write.
Ode to a Fearless Koi
Love that waits, that is never seen,
Is like the koi that hide beneath the green.
Bright they are and strong they grow,
But through water's edge they never show.
Only a sliver of white skin will gleam
Through the green undying leaves.
They long to break the surface though,
Like mountain laurels through the snow.
And on that day, Alas! Alas!
Green had died and cloud had passed.
The light gleamed through the shimmered mirror,
And the koi shined through, ever clearer.
Tell me
Tell me why I'm still here. We are nothing. All of us are food for the worms and those worms are food for the worms until there are no worms. The planet will come to dust and not a whisper of what we claimed to be will be left. So tell me. Tell me why I got out of bed today. Tell me why I haven't built the courage to drink bleach yet. Why am I giving an ounce of effort to this day when all I will ever be is nothing. All anyone will ever be is nothing. Why.
Destroy Me Not
There is a being in my head.
It tells me that it wants me dead
In words that only I can hear.
It rips my fingertips from light
And takes me down to rooms I fear.
It's name is never spoken but I know that it is me. Or a twisted me living in my spine. Controlling my life.
Taking its time.
Striking me down on my highest points. Telling me how happy it is to see me drowning in soft grey water that is the numbness in my brain
but I refrain
from giving in. It has nearly all of me but a part of me it has never seen
will linger in the numb that I become when it calls my name.
Map to Living
The lines beneath my fingers tracing,
excitement flows, my heart is racing.
Georgia to Maine.
Given to me by an odd man,
Dreamer just as me.
It lies in a shoebox full of pictures,
and in my poetry.
The one true way to lose myself in mountains green, white and blue.
Bounding down a twisting trail with only time to lose.
Blistered feet and mountain streams,
I'll have it no other way.
And while I trace this map I'll wait a year, five months, and three days.
I am the rusty - patched bumble bee, fuzzy and soft.
My friends have all gone.
I help the flowers spread to the horizons, but I am alone.
My queen has grown sick with an illness born beneath the sky.
I am the bumble bee, I am not thee
That pushes for more.
I am not thee with an endless thirst.
I am the last rusty-patched bumble bee, oblivious to destruction.
My queen did die, my family gone.
My fellow bees did not last long.
The Flames of Betrayal
Nearing the end, I felt a change in you. I saw the way you through me. You made me breakfast the morning I died. A plate of pancakes, and bacon. A cup of creamy coffee topped with liquid death. I went to sleep and floated above my lifeless being. I saw you carry my body to the basement and pour cement into the floor. My cold face sunk into the grey tomb. In time I watched you let in a new lover. Natalie. When I lived, I avoided her. She was beautiful, but a plague of a human being. I realized now that it must have been in those last damp, cold months that you turned to her for warmth. While I was at work, or watching my sister's kids, you were in her arms. I am angry. I am growing stronger in death than I ever was in life. And here we are in your hotel room.
The wedding was beautiful, I am glad I gained enough strength beforehand to push the cake over. The icing on the grey floor was like the cement encasing my poisoned vessel. It upset me, but it was worth it to see Natalie's stone face break into panicked tears. Now here we are. You're both drunk and you left the lighter on the counter. Once the flames have eaten through your bones, I will drift on in hatred away from this nightmare.