Back against the door, knees pulled up to my chest, all the words I could never say pile up around me. I bleach my skin with ink and tears and catch my soul in stained glass bottles, hiding them away in shoe boxes under my bed. Writing letters to God on the wall, my fingers stained black with charcoal and sin, I learn that time does not heal all wounds and memories are not easy to live with; and you, with your beautiful lies and promises of better days will drag me straight to hell.

dead-end bus picked you up at noon & self confidence slammed your body into the seat next to her, behind the driver's chair- he's clearly a fool wearing mundane skin to blend end, but his cigarettes linger on your lips & you're focusing too hard on not staring to notice it.

winter seeps into the folds of your legs as the coffee in your hand blares steam in the crying eyes of a father hidden behind his integrity masked by pride 'cause his daughter's run away again; why don't you go find her? you ask him; mind your own business, i have a son to support and a wife to care for, he hisses rusted words in your direction & shots aren't cheap this time of year.

overweight? the air snickers floating the woman's sucking of fingers to your ears; starving children to prevent their obesity, & you think, is that's fate balancing something? your neck snaps, blood trickles to the back, insanity reminds you your stops in seventeen minutes; yet, the revelation there's another life a part of the bus just four seats down sinks it's claws under your nails ripping them up & this whole damn place is a tragedy, you think but you're still, unaware.

blindness is a cure to earth's cruel miseries, thank your mothers immediately & shake your wings clean from the grim they collected from the bus ride your boyfriend left you to ride; because when your heels click the concrete you weren't an angel that rode the bus but a figure to remember who's privacy is what makes these years their prime.

ironically, your bought wings come with a lifetime warranty only; since when death collects after use you'll realize their simplicity & priceless being- as in, they're worth nothing really.

The pale sun slipping behind a veil of haze

The chittering of birds fading to a silent void

A cold breeze carrying away the warmth, leaving ice in its wake.

The chill settles in my cells, burrows in deep, claiming my heat

Setting off a dull ache that caresses my bones in tender apathy

Singing a languid song of summer’s end, the coming of eternal snow.

As one last glow of orange light ignites the horizon,

My soul rests in the feathered bosom of welcoming frost.

A blanket of amaranthine gray creeps overhead, gently smothering,

And my willing heart answers the call, eyes wearily closing, breath softly subsiding, Stillness reigning, as I sink into a long winter’s sleep, never again to rise.

Who could have known the way the seeds would sow. The wind carries direction in its palm. Freckles the cheeks with the things that pass through. The dead ties a noose and we savor the taste of the throats beneath our teeth. There is still satisfaction in the wet of the flesh. Capillaries wear out. Pray we stop. Capillaries cry out. Know we can’t stop. The tendrils grow knee-bound. Learn the work in the breaking. The way they’ll still stand, post-fissures. We watch the lace that blooms from bones. Bind ourselves to the birthing. I love you in the hunger.

a large empty house

except it's not empty

it's full of people chattering about

full of life

you sit underneath the stairs and sigh

all these people

all this life

and yet you have the audacity to feel lonely

you sigh again

a large cliff

a ledge

must be at least a hundred-foot drop

the wind blows in your hair

you grip the safety railing till your knuckles white

your brain buzzes with the thought of falling

of feeling the wind cut into your skin

and tear apart your soul

and the nasty splat

when the ground greets your flailing limbs

you release the rail and turn on your heel to walk away

a beach in the winter

the freezing air seeps through any jacket

you've lost the feeling in your fingers and nose

the waves rise and crash with the beat of your heart

a pair of well-worn shoes lay in the sand

you wiggle your toes in the ice-cold water

the bottom of your jeans get wetter and wetter the longer you stand there

you walk further out

the water rises

the waves lazily crash against your still figure

the shells and rocks on the shallow ocean floor cut into your numb feet

you revel in the sting of it

you crouch down and plop yourself into the water with an unflattering splash

your jeans are fully soaked

your coat is getting there

you giggle at the sight of your breath in the moist winter air

A noose

tugs tighter

around my throat

threatening

to dissolve

it all

and leave

only misery.

Choking sobs

on the brink

of taking

me whole...

Cinched noose.

Deadly tears.

And

I am

floating

in an

abyss

of

thunderclouds.

Rain pools

in puddles

around my feet

rising

rising

rising

Can't breathe.

Can't feel

Anything.

And

I

am

Gone.

*by the way, I don't feel like this currently. But I have felt similarly before.*

it was dark in the car, the others

looking forward,

talking muted, the

music a background humming of

life existing without me

but I was apart and not apart,

connected

somehow

to the faded, heavy darkness

and the lights that blurred away

into sparkles on the dashboard

and I found myself looking out the

rearview window

body twisted softly,

head turned and tilted,

resting on the headrest

as the trees fell away behind me

behind us

and I could feel the tug of everything

always falling away,

always gliding back into the nothing,

and I knew I was

nowhere, and

everywhere.

It's very bright, and you didn't read the forecast. You were told it was going to rain, so you went out in 100 degree weather wearing a t-shirt and jeans. It was not, in fact, raining. The sky is totally clear. You have to be outside for the next 6 hours in the ohio heat, and then you have to do chorin for another hour immediately after. Only after the 7 hours, do you get a break. You are done for the rest of the day.

_____________________________________________________________________

When I get sad, I get really sad, so that's that.

These cool brisk fall mornings

The frost on the ground

The trees losing the last of their leaves

The crispness of the air

The blueness of a cloudless sky

Days like these remind me of you

Reminds me of that cold November day

The November you said goodbye

I never did like the fall that much anyways

Waterfalls paint my skin

Is all that grey coming from

the sky

or my eyes?

it’s been raining nonstop

and my feet are stuck

always forget

the way home

if that’s what you call it

the streets all look the same

no street signs visible

this path I’m taking

has led me down the wrong way

but what is there left to do

when nothing’s going right?

Waterfall -{renata ferretti}