i.

hands

too many hands, touching all the wrong spots. too much pressure, in places that never asked to be stained with dirty fingerprints and filthy mouths.

ii.

nights i woke up blindfolded. nights i woke up deaf. nights i woke up screaming. nights i woke up dead. nights i never slept.

iii.

the way the refrigerator felt pressed up against my back. anorexic-spine refusing to bend and break. chin up, tears checked. the way that the solid object gave false confidence. the way my bones still cracked.

iv.

the wedding ring in the grass.

v.

tubes & wires

small lungs failing. because babies don’t belong here this early. but trauma has a way of bringing out the best of us.

vi.

tubes & wires

“you can’t hold him.”

“please give me back my baby?”

“you have nerve damage.”

“give me my baby back!”

“someone put her back to sleep.”

vii.

distance and space and sirens and screams. and how all of those words just feel like the word abandoned. and how everyone always leaves.

viii.

all these fucking metaphors.

ix.

my wrists tied to his knuckles. and how he hangs around my neck. and how he hangs around my thoughts. and how he gets hung up in my throat. and how my eyes feel hung out to dry.

x.

the way the mirror explodes when it sees my face. how two of my fingers fit so perfectly at the back of my mouth. how i reach for the devil and up comes the ache.

I can say my first honest heartbreak was when I realized my little brother was an adult, but I discovered it in the worst way possible. My little brother had always been my best friend, confidant, and there was no one I trusted more in the world. I remember playing super heroes, video games, action figures, and strapping our sister's barbie dolls to the ceiling fan. I know his laugh in a crowded room. I know his stance from a mile away. We have a trick we play where we can get one another's attention by staring very focused on the other one. And then I got a call at 2 AM that he was in prison.

Within the span of one phone call, I learned that my little brother's marriage had been on the ropes for a long time. I had learned that he had been battling an addiction for years. I had learned that the little boy whose hand I would hold when I crossed the street and to this day still panic when I look behind me and don't see him, was an encarcerated criminal. At first, I blamed myself. Why didn't I ask if he had been having problems? Why didn't I see that he was struggling? Why didn't I, of all people, not see that he was going down the wrong path? When did I let go of his hand? When did he stop being my responsibility?

I watched as the world turned against him, spat on him, and he lost so many friends and family. And he just sat there and took it, knowing that he deserved every bit of their hate. I couldn't stop it! I couldn't stand in the way of the bullets being shot at him! I couldn't protect him from what these hateful people were saying! I had let go of my little brother's hand while crossing the street, and the cars were barrelling at him, but I wasn't able to reach him in time. I remember once when he tripped fell, breaking his nose. My heart had stopped and I screamed for help as I tried to stop the blood.

The little boy I held when he was so small was bleeding out now, and no matter how much I screamed for help or tried to defend him, I failed to save him. I wasn't and never will be angry at him for what he did. Hate can't live where love is the driving force. When I visited him, he didn't want to look at me, but I reached out to hold his hand like I used to. I told him, "I'm glad you're being so strong. I can see how much this is hurting you. I'm so proud of you, little bro, for being a man and taking responsibility." And we cried and held one another.

I little boy crying with a broken nose.

I man crying with a broken life.

But he is still my brother, my best friend, and my confidant. He's pulled his life together with the help of his wife, true friends and the family that helped him to heal. But he can stand tall now, because he decided to do the right thing. I'm so proud of him, and he will never know how much. My little brother became a man in the short span that I accidently let go of his hand then turned to look for him.

She squandered her love,

sprinkling and dripping

into swift river of dust,

swirling in a whirlpool

of sorrowful chants.

Hummingbird wings

brushed her heart

and departed,

lip synching the love

drowned in the sand

as high tides slurped

and swept her away.

Breath of her waves

listened to voices,

slithering unsaid.

Thumbs of feelings

depressed in meters

of ticking time

impressing her palms

with tempests of sorrow.

swooshing of angst

murmurs and sighs,

eye lashed promises

filter loss into space.

Strands of skin

weep soft rain

of empty arms.

Crescendo of pain

beats like a drum,

heart cracks like egg -

a soundless void

where roses

don’t thrive.

Hurt of loneliness

moans and wails

in barren soil.

Prisms of hope

parade downstream,

fingertips ooze

sound of no return.

I don’t understand it a lot of the time. One minute I’m fine and the next I’m just, not. It steals my motivation, my drive, my passion. It takes me away from my family and friends. Isolates me from everyone and everything. It drags my life through the mud and ruins anything good and right. All for what? What is benefiting from my misery? What did I do to warrant this? I just want it to stop. The only way I know how to describe it is that it hurts to exist. It hurts to live my own life. I feel like I’m not living anymore, like I’m just going through the motions of my everyday life, as a shell of my former self. So, if I haven’t been acting like myself lately, it’s because I’m not. I’m sorry.

Like feathers bristle untouched skin

Death cracks open wide, again

Wounds that well beyond heart’s brim

Tough now tender, stretched sheer-thin

Sadness beads on silvered glass

Fallen tears fill heaven’s flasks

Fragile lives reflect like brass

On golden ponds dyed ether-black

Veil of heaven, drawn, one side

Curtains closed with eyes shut wide

Sun sleeps in an endless night

Eclipse of mourning shades moonlight

Awakened by mortality

Midnight mirrors twilight seas

Dust and ash stare back and speak

Echoes of life’s brevity

In the midst of flesh and bone

Mist of ’morrows, yet unknown

Vapors of the vast bemoan

Body, spirit, soul - unsown

Wisp-white clouds combed by wind’s

tines

Hands upon the face of time

Buoys on blue ocean’s rhyme

Bells of borrowed minutes’ chime

Pools of love leave saline stains

Viewed beneath the lens loss gains

Compassion clouds and mem’ries rain

Of loved ones buried ’neath the pain

Condensate obscures the view

Lost within the looking through

Window panes marked in bold hues

Alight the heart as strength renews

Stained glass lit as candles weep

Hope sails seas of murky-deep

Soothing waves of grief, replete

In unrest spirits longing peace

Days elapse to weeks and years

Loss exhumes the past and fears

Unstitching scars in mortal mirrors

Does time hem whole beneath dried tears?

Loved ones passed, bereft refrains

Reverberating fragile frames

Eternal dwells in hearts that pang

Cymbals’ chorus angels rang

Capture - soon spring winds will blow

Scattered seeds that sorrow sows

Tend them ’til love’s flowers grow

So Fall leaves Winter, white as snow

Sometimes I leave my palm prints on the glass.

I watch helplessly as a stranger controls my words and my movements while putting a stronghold on my emotions.

I bleed for lovers who would not bleed for me.

I cry for friends who would barely shed a tear for me.

I accept what someone else tells me to accept and keep quiet while my soul roars with offense.

I never dance and always sing alone in an empty room.

Even in the safety of my own head, I'm still the outsider looking in.

At the top of every bar lies the expensive whiskey. The heavy stuff. The hangover maker and heartbreak curer. You don't bring down that bottle to celebrate, you bring it down to grieve.

For the girl that never texted back.

For the friends you drifted from.

For the parents you lost.

For the dream you didn't achieve.

For the grandkids that forgot you.

This is the only job for that bottle of whiskey. Until then, it waits. For heartbreak will surely come again.

Fading into an endless coma, feeling empty and frequentative. Being acquisitive like any other.

Sad, just sad.

No special moments of joy. No moments to recollect and to put on you.

Infinite blank pages waiting for my mind to fulfill them.

And what am I doing?

Nothing. Being an everyday chap, working, training and studying so I can become… SHUSH!!!

To become what, an older version of you now. Grey hair and gossiping how your neighbor did that and this.

You're pathetic.

Stop it will ya?

Stop drifting and start living. Enjoy now. Future’s existence is nowhere.

You can come and cry to me darling.

My inner self will cry indeed.

You see darling, you're relaxed.

Perhaps I am.