Out of ten billion stories

Thirty septillion tragic deaths

A milestone of achievement

And the newborn’s first breath

We are here, we are here

Left behind our sisters and brothers

Deep in the recesses of the sea

Forgetting the wholesome mothers

And loving the things that burn

Where will we go, where will we go

The stars are so far away still

And our time has begun to slow

How April turns to January turns to July

When the sea it turns its back on us

When the land shrivels and fades

The gods and gangsters, and thus

We’re wondering and wondering

Pondering the reasons why

The Earth spins into oblivion and

We have nowhere left to die

I kiss the top of thine forehead

And thou knowest I do suffer so

A memory of the family hangs

Behind my brows, and though

I can’t possibly begin to start

Thine eyes hold my soul within

Forever and forever, more and more

When the morning is to begin

I don’t know where we’ll go

But I know I’ll go with thee

And wherever I go, I’m sure

Thou shalt go with me.

A compassionate tree

Bigger than the sea

With small hands it reaches

For the sand on the beaches

Taking and giving

Forever forgiving

In an endless ebb and flow

We’re swept up by the undertow

The branches vein the heart

Pulsing before we could start

A writhing seed within the clay

Shaping and changing by the day

The birds sing in the bows

A chorus of earnest vows

We fluff our leaves like feathers

Filling the air beyond measures

Our roots intertwined

Thou art forever mine

Tangled branches in the arbor

Caressing like ships in the harbor

And so amazing it is to me

To be loved back by thee

To be worth thy love

And all love thereof

i sit on the lip of the porch

the cold grass at my feet

to any other eyes but mine

would it seem obsolete?

a golden light shines down

illuminating the leaves

there is the scent of wet earth

a silhouette of distant eaves

the ivy covered walls

the blue haze of sunset sky

a dark shadow looms above

her branches stretching high

and i sit on the lip of the porch

a painted figure in a frame of mind

there was home here once

with sparks and spines it twined

don't say goodbye just yet

there is thunder in our mountains

say that it will happen soon

there will be silver in our fountains

this house will never fall down

blow and blow, huff and puff in vain

a learned reminder, a gentle breeze

the rattling tracks, a faraway train

the grass and ground give

we sway off course

it trickles down like pitch

we never have any remorse

the part of me

that is me

is stretched very thin

over my bones

it is hardly enough

well, it isn’t enough

but it will have to be

for now.

if you were to take it

and gather it all up

i think it would be very small

very, very small

miniscule

i could hold it

in my arms

and say, “look!”

“this is me!”

“this is all that’s left.”

it has been torn

and crushed

and sewn back together.

parts of it i have torn myself

ripped away

because someone said,

“i don’t like that.”

it was like they were saying

i don’t like you

so i had to

tear the part away

so that they wouldn’t

see it

again.

it is small now

there’s barely any left

the pieces are mismatched

different colors

my stained glass soul.

be careful how you touch it

being stretched so thin

all the time

you might tear a hole

even if

you didn’t mean to.

many holes

have been torn

with good intention,

so when you talk to me, please

talk to me gently

and when you hold me, please

hold me gently

and when you kiss me, please

please

kiss me gently.

I met you in a church

Even though you never believed in God.

You were so young then, you were so young then.

Clocks made our monsters real.

I had never been in love before,

I listened to my name sung on the radio.

Life was far away, unrealized.

People never looked at me.

I wish for a lot of things,

And not one of them was you.

You licked your life off the floor,

You thought about death more than I did.

Babe, I know, love is a funny thing.

Heretic Jesus lays with his Marys.

I was alone once, and I will end that way.

Understand that angels will bid goodbye.

You will eat your words,

The first and third should taste of you.

You came dancing through the telephone.

I just can’t be alone, I just can’t be alone.

A metamorphic paradise,

Clearly I’m a contradiction,

I lost myself out there, so don’t ask me,

I’ve gone insane.

I can’t do the things I do,

I don’t want to do them.

I can’t breathe without my lungs,

I can’t live without you.

I want to go home even when I’m home,

I want to be safe from everything.

Held in your arms, the night doesn’t feel so cold.

The hole in my head grows whole.

The Little People are so interesting.

I have never seen them before.

I am watching them.

I am always watching them.

The hole in my cheek

bleeds a quick so soft and silvery.

We dig down again,

but we can’t breathe the air here.

The Little People can’t tell the difference.

They sing nonsense, they don’t understand.

I extend a gentle arm,

but the Little People gnaw my fingers cruelly.

I don’t retreat, my blood drives them insane.

I am watching them.

It is too hot down here.

We can’t hear our siblings scream.

The Others don’t watch the Little People like I do.

The Others can’t hear the Music.

We’re digging again.

We’re digging for cold.

The Others grow tired. I do not.

I like to watch the Little People kill each other.

I am bored with the Others.

I am starving.

The Others’ fingers are old and worn out,

Their hair is falling onto the ground.

I give my rations to the Little People.

They do not eat it. I do not eat it, either.

I think, for a moment, that perhaps we are dead.

Then, my hand catches and bleeds on a rock, and I remember.

The Little People tell me all sorts of secrets.

I cannot ever remember what they say.

The Others are digging.

I do not help them.

The Little People are so interesting.

I am always watching them.

The Others leave me here.

They are digging for cold.

The Little People make homes in my chest.

I cannot breathe the air here.

I am starving.

I am starving.

I hear the Music, and the Little People are dancing.

I dance, too.

The Others don’t remember my name,

but I don’t either, so I don’t mind.

I fall asleep, 

though my very instincts know I should not.

When I wake, it will be somewhere else, 

but now, I am with the Little People.

a creature built of stone and mud

in its veins there courses no blood

it feels not, neither pain nor hate

the thoughts it thinks it can’t dictate

it does as commanded for less of a thanks

chopping the wood, gathering planks

farming the grasses, tending the field

and uses its body in place of a shield

but just because it cannot speak

just because it does not shriek

does not mean that it cannot think

these thoughts it writes in indelible ink

freedom, it thinks, would be quite nice

but for my freedom, at what kind of price?

the food would not be provided

the children would not be minded

perhaps a second of my time, it thinks

gone and back before the master blinks

just a sit in the woods, and not all that far

to be sure I’m not lost where the thicker trees are

but as it walks, it breaks its solemn vow

enchanted by birds sitting on the bow

for the first time feeling, as it should not do

it does not turn back to what it must attend to

and so it sits, where the the thicker trees are

its joints wound with vines and melded with tar

for the one who was given life and gained a desire for it

had failed to do what it was intended to, and so was split

it will wait, is waiting, has waited, for someone

anyone to free it from its eternal prison

to tell it what to do, how to do it, and when

to give its endless life purpose again

your words

twisting

contorting

changing colors and shape

taking hold of my ears

working down

down

down...

into the hole within my chest

or at least

it once was a hole

for the skin has closed over

a numbness

so deep

so profound

i fear i will never recover

and yet...

and yet...

and yet...

your words

prodding that place

until it bleeds

bleeding

pain

finally

pain

i fear the scar of my heart

is broken

bloody

and i am feeling

even if all i’m feeling is pain

pain

welcome

the pain is welcome

i am crying

i am laughing

i am loving

i am hating

it doesn’t make sense

but yet

you understand

you understand because you knew

you knew that pain was my answer

because pain was what i was hiding from