dear adam,

they find you with

your head blown out

down by the pond where

your step dad likes to fish.

the gravel has your bone fragments

and

blood spatter and

brains scattered in it

like the tree in front of you with

the buckshot of your

test fire:

nobody stopped the boy with

the shotgun and the

lawn chair and the

melted butterfinger on

the sidewalk.

so, now, in the low dust

your cracked cellphone.

remnants of

your last meal:

a butterfinger wrapper.

it’s a good neighborhood.

sorry for stealing your shirts.

you’re in that lawn chair --

the one you carried under your arm through the whole

good neighborhood (it’s

a good fucking neighborhood) --

with your neck bent back

and you’re slumped slightly to the side.

you could be sunbathing:

asleep in the

sweet, oklahoma spring,

down by that funny, secret pond

in the center of all the houses

with the flowers all in bloom

in the low, electric buzz of

butter yellow sunshine

but

your brother’s hunting

shotgun: the mossberg.

Sampling little dabs,

dribs and drabs

of all that's left,

guilty of theft -

stealing my heart,

insanity raising

its ugly head

as you

whisper on

my bawdy red lips.

Dribbling, nibbling,

lightning sparks on

mirrored walls

inside my core,

wanting more

setting me aflame.

I scrub you off

but you stick

in cellophane strips,

tight velcro grips,

snagged onto

my eager skin.

You drain my brain

your bones enmeshed,

crescendo building

inside my body,

enveloping my soul,

clouding my spirit,

dragging chains,

entrapping me,

driving me INSANE.

#Challenge #Derailed #Crazy

Lost in this abyss called consciousness

I admire the strength you hold in your heart of gold

All the shapes you shift and you mold

I spend my nights dreaming of you

Unable to conclude

Everything you’ve put me through

Maybe I’m lost in an echo of what was

Clawing for a vision of what is to be

Stuck inside a vague memory

From which I’m unable break free

To see

The light within

My candle in the dark

Leading me to the center of my heart

I can rhyme these words in a line

But can they truly define

My inner most thoughts

My inner most desires

What sparks my soul and what inspires

Me

To go on breathing

To go on seeing

To even go on being

I’m aching for something real

I am numb but I want to feel

Everything I once did

But do I even know what once is

I’m lost in my own mind

I feel so hollow and so left behind

In the darkness

With this voice in my head

Reminiscence of words I once said

Out loud

But in a quiet space

Like the echo of a place

Where nobody can hear

This voice in my head

Whispering to me my every fear

Telling me that I am alone

that the light is too dim

And I cannot be shown

A way through the darkness

But somehow I know

That I am not lost and I am not alone

You know

a battle between my mind and my soul

This bittersweet echo

Of mockingjays in my head

I always had an affinity

For dappled water

Chestnut hair and laughing eyes

And days when the sun breaks through

The safety barrier of the lies

Breathed like smoke between the sighs

Where you guard your inner stranger

In case you give too much

Perhaps more than wanted

Until the truth arrives and slams

You that once were heartless

In the lukewarm darkness

That you never name

And even the earthly sins that linger

Turn from pleasure into lack

After that time of danger

When you return to wander

And you never once look back

In your deepest memory

At least not in anger

Why is it that I am waiting from some response 

from one who owes me nothing but 

words flow from my pen like the waters over the fall

to drip agonizingly slow like time through gushing

fountains of lost emotions that sting from

tidbits of truth and erroneously bestowed emotions

that have done nothing but forced me 

down holes that are too small for this old

and tired body

Why have my feelings for you made me 

spew gibberish when it is nothing but 

clarity I seek, looking for some semblance of 

the definition of the burning desire I have for you 

when you haven't given me a consideration

Too old and too tired is this heart that 

looks upon the vision of Aruba blue ocean pupils

and purposeful red lips of my desire

Why am I trying to make sense of the nonsense of emotions...

Being the kind of woman I am

I fell for you before I could think,

And

Being the kind of man that you are,

This is a ship that's destined to sink.