Become still
She took the knife and dragged it
down the center of her chest letting
the pain out slowly.
She crippled at the sound of tearing
muscles and veins.
She pushed the heaving lungs aside
and found the one broken item in
her chest.
It caused her pain and anguish.
She wanted it out.
She wanted it gone.
She reached into her slowly fainting
chest and ripped it out.
The once beating heart became still.
As did she with her hollow thoughts.
coin collection for your casket
There is a part that wants war, that believes the lore,
A little part believes somehow I will emerge victorious
toe tapping to the dirge melodious
Individuality recognised
as a lord above which
Red skies
gored goodbyes
death rattled twitch
and then it's just i
and the deadening lie
that I just wanted to be alone
To think for myself
of the incredible depth
of connection
3am
3am is a strange time to be awake. You expect it to be light but its not. You consider how much time you have left to sleep, though it's never quite enough. This morning I did both of those things. But then I realized I was not in my own room with my favorite blankets, the lamp placed exactly where my fingers know it to be, or the path to the bathroom I can follow in the dark. It's unfamiliar at first, but this room is one I know. I turn my head to find broad heaving shoulders and a heavy exhale. Oops, he must have heard me, because he turned over too. I almost know his eyes are closed, because he's such a deep sleeper. But I'm surprised. His eyes are piercing through the dark looking straight at me accompanied by a smile. He kisses me once, twice. He pulls me into his arms, into his warmth and scatters more light kisses on my shoulder. We both relax into each other, and I've never been anywhere more peaceful. This is a place I remember and adore. This is the perfect time to wake up.
Point and Snicker
A picture of beauty I once framed
With much heart and visions draped
Then took a gulp of pride in joy
To show the still to others like a toy
And then with inexplicable fortitude
As the days went on in solitude
And the still that I had hung with a smirk
Became a symbol of my long lost mirth
For the still won more laughs than applause
All purpose, meaning lost with no cause
And what followed was not the cheer of big men
But a century in a dark deriding den
