Monthly Archives: August 2015

Moonlit —

Beneath the silver moon
Silver light, starry winter sky
Puffs of breath, windy trees
Snowy stars on crystalline ground
Shadow and light entwined
Happiness never so pure
Except upon clear winter’s night

If I were to know love
Deep in my soul
It would flutter through the air
Like puffs of air from breath to sky

I am the ground
You are the moonlit sky
Without your silvery light
I am dull and full of shadows
But in the light I sparkle
The shadows within me laughing

I am the snowy ground
Crystalline and sparkling
Beneath the silver light
Of you, the moonlit winter sky

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Hollow–

Scoop out my insides
Cobwebs and excess baggage
My insecurities, my neurosis
My insufficiencies
Leave nothing to chance
Pile them high
And throw them aside
Excavate and dust off
All the little good you find there
Make me hollow and new
I am reborn, something good enough for you
And in that hollow space
Leave little bits of you behind
Pour in love
Mixed with finger touches, shared breaths
Glances, love bites, gentles caresses
Let it harden
And somewhere next to the spine
Where breathing hurts sometimes
I’ll come back to this empty, hollow place
And the hard bits of love
You forgot you left behind.

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Exposed–

To think that I am an open book
Is a joke
I am not sun warmed pages
Flitting back and forth on a breeze
I am not something that lies there
Patiently open and ready to gain attention
It is so much more dreadful than that
I am an open wound, burning, bleeding
I am a raw nerve, treading on thin ice
Picture eyes blinded by the sun
Chaotic and unable to focus
I am a Polaroid burning and bubbling
In a fire of emotion
This is my curse
I am not an open book
I am a wreck
I am a natural disaster you can’t ignore
I am exposed
And every one can see it.
Don’t you?

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Cosmos —

I look for the day
When the universe exists
Between the span of my skin between your hands
My nerves will supernova between your fingers
As you leave galaxies in the hot trails scratched into my skin
The space between our souls would be the void
Every electric exhale between us
Stars would condense into white dwarfs of delicious tension
The world would exist every time I looked into your eyes
I would be able to look up at the sky
And never have to wonder
Because the universe would be
The space taken up by you and me.

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Null & Void —

In the farthest reaches of space
Where light is measured in years
Millions turn to billions
And infinity is just a game to be played
There is nothing.
Emptiness and black nothingness reign
The stark reality of the outer realms
Where there are no dreams
No souls to welcome you
No galaxies
No heaven and no hell
Just the cold, quiet blissful void
The universe has answered our questions
And we must glory in her refrain
Mankind searches and this is her response
We are certainly not alone
But like death
When we reach the end
There is nothing but silence.

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Starstuff —

The Earth bore me
Through crashing waves
From the tiniest grains of sand
And frothing foam
Born of the tides
I am fresh and raw
Bare before the world
My being is new
My soul is a shard of the universe
I am a human being
See me in all of my courage
My strong will
My veracity
As I reach out to the waves
And become reborn.

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Farewell — May 2015

[Saying farewell to someone, after any relationship, is hard. Getting out from underneath the loss, from the pain of abandoning the familiar is terrible. To finally find yourself unmoored, only able to rely up on yourself and no one else. I wouldn’t lie that I found freedom in this, but there are people out there that prefer company to isolation. This goes out to anyone who felt the struggle of moving on, moving out from home, making new friends, dating again. To those getting out of abuse relationships of all kinds, and who know you don’t have to be romantically involved to face abuse of any kind. For those that know the doubt, the second guessing, the self-skepticism. This is a salute to you. These are reflections to help with the healing, hopefully they will not wound or harm.]

There once was a time where I trusted implicitly, knowing it was returned, and then there came a day when I struggled to remember why I did in the first place; why when I looked over across the car, answered phone calls or texts, that I had taken those first steps, like a stumbling baby, to make friends. I had been alone for so many years I wonder now why I hadn’t just suffered through until the end and gone to high school. Except for one thing, I had never had one before and I was curious. What do these people find in one another? How can they even communicate with one another with such ease? I had parental figures, those I trusted automatically – like breathing – to protect, feed, and clothe. But never someone to play with, make mischief with, someone to say why don’t we, instead of why we shouldn’t.

Memories had kept me anchored, when the world was light and good, rainy summer nights watching fireworks, laughter bubbling like champagne and pouring over through tears as pillows were tossed during sleepovers, inside jokes no one else would understand. Nostalgia kept me constant. But then there was everything else. The scales seemed to tilt so far the floor beneath me shook. Out weighted. All that I had put up with, all the subtle nicks and jabs to my ego, my self-esteem, my confidence, minor and subtle accidents that were treated like breaches in codes of honor. And now even doing the simplest things make my hands shake, and makes me clumsy and befuddled. I wonder at how I manage to hold conversations with anyone. But the amazing thing was these small mental abuses were never that subtle, you weren’t ever built for subtlety. You could flirt and you could mesmerize, sometimes I wondered if it was magic, what would have everyone so charmed by your essence? Men come and get out just as quickly, once they get what they came for, once they see what I hadn’t.

I had let myself take the punches, numbed myself, leathered my skin like a punching bag for you to abuse, thinking I could take the knocks because I loved you, remained loyal to our friendship, revolved my world around you, allowed you more latitude than really anyone would. And you must have liked that kind of manipulation, thrived on it, especially since I wouldn’t challenge you on it. My loyalty blinding me to what you had done to me. Thinking naively that this would prove my friendship. Being around you despite my parents telling me not to, young rebellion sated with consorting with you instead of rougher, more damaging things. Time away would convince me otherwise, family, my other friends, when I did have friends other than you – when you weren’t policing the relationships I kept around me, for they all knew if you excluded them I couldn’t maintain a relationship with them and still be best friends with you – all tried to convince me that I should separate but everything worked against my being separate from you.

Even now I question that maybe it’s my own mind playing tricks, building monsters in your shadow. Making horrible visions out of the wisps of smoke from your cigarettes. But you went out and had that turned on you, a taste of your own medicine, and didn’t like receiving; so you came back to me, mended the bridge I thought you had burned, to restore the balance. The bridge you had burned, when I had actually committed a breach of contract, desperate for others to know what I knew, you had laid the trap and snapped it shut around me, and I was cutoff, left un-moored and drifting, with uncertain shipmates, I hadn’t known I couldn’t trust and others that were dying. In that time, I realized there was no one to rely on but myself, in a way what you had done was both a gift and curse. And I allowed it, allowed you to rebuild that war torn bridge because by the time you asked for reentry once again, as I nervously debated for hours whether or not to allow it, and you questioned with a laugh as my hands nervously wrung a paper, diner napkin, why had I appeared so nervous as if it was something you couldn’t comprehend. I was going to college and was without friends, taking care of a dying grandmother, waiting for word of the condition of a cancer-riddled uncle but didn’t realize I was in the process of building a new foundation of friends for myself – with the promise of more – but by then we were upon a new path and practically picked up from where you left off.

again you jibed and punched and danced upon my skin but there were scars now, sewn patches from damage long repaired and the new friends oiled my leathered skin into something resembling flesh again. They questioned and explained the problem, cradling me gently to explain that I didn’t have to suffer, I didn’t have to keep allowing myself to be punched, to take the knocks, to prove my worth as a friend. Then the worst thing happened, sending your own personal progress back to the beginning, and I did the only thing I knew was right, the loyal thing, I stayed and remained as best as I could. Making myself almost dangerously sick with the effort.

I tried so hard until one day that effort wasn’t enough. Outside influences pulled us in differing directions, you tried to resist, and I went willingly. I tried to retain my connections as best as possible, everything about my attempts so impossible. And you gave up, since I couldn’t maintain my usefulness, and I no longer could take being dismissed out of hand for all that I had done, simply because I couldn’t always be available to you. Because I wouldn’t bleed for you. For once I chose to be somewhere else instead of immediately by your side, when there were many times when I was second best and never complained, just patiently waited for you to want my company again. So now I took a page from your book, a Molotov cocktail since you practically gave me the glass bottle, cloth aflame, and burn a bridge myself I probably should have long ago. It takes everything within me to do it, I could collect and keep people forever like I do bric-a-brac forever unchanging on my bookshelves, dusty comforting and familiar. So even now I am left with an empty feeling, wondering endlessly over things said, unsaid, and if it was myself that was wrong and if you were right, but then I have to remind myself, that you would always make yourself the victim, pointing out what I had done wrong and how I should apologize. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize, and I wonder if I ever will, if you would ever admit to anyone, even yourself, that you were wrong. Even through all of that, this is where I leave you. I will move on out of necessity, but remember you always with affection and say goodbye, even though you never gave me the chance. But then again I never really ever stood up for myself when it came to you. I guess I wasn’t strong enough to take your punches after all. Goodbye.

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Starving — June 2015

I wish you could understand
I don’t want to casually recall you one day.
And laugh you off as an old joke with a forgettable punchline.
How could I?
How could anyone pretend such ease when offered the potential of you?
I don’t just want to fuck you and leave.
How can I make you comprehend?
I want to seep into your bones.
Leave pieces of my heart, deep in the back.
Marbles and loose change.
Behind bookshelves and in dusty corners of your soul.
Engrave my name upon the fortress you’ve now erected around your tender feelings.
Ensconce myself in your frozen heart until it warms again.
You were broken by others undeserving.
Let it be my love you use at the glue.
Wring me dry until there’s nothing left.
I’d rather be used and cast aside by you, than be at this distance.
Without.
And starve with hunger.

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Spring 2015

When spring breaks
Shattering through the ice and ash
of frigid winter
It is not the dewy lark
Sweet sparrow
Or lovely pillowed dove
That will trumpet
Heralding the new season’s dawn
Oh no,
It will be the crow
Piercing shrieks from chaotic beaks
Echoing off stirring trees
Black and fierce
As cold winter’s
Death and gloom
He, the black crow,
wrenches nature’s rebirth
From icy dead jaws
Spring has come.
At last.

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A Small Indulgence — My Apologies.

Please forgive and indulge me– for the unintended hiatus. I have moved from the urban sprawl just outside new york city to the country of the Appalachian mountains. Not so far down that you can hear the twang of country music, but far enough into the mountains that the faint air of banjos can be heard in the trees. The land out here is truly beautiful and something about it does ring true for me but I doubt that I will stay here, this isn’t the direction I had been meant to go in.

So my point was, though my absence was unintentional, my life is pretty well up in the air. The uncertainty is exciting and pushes me out of my comfort zone. Let’s be true- the woods already have me at a disadvantage.

But I will say this, the woods and the glories of these natural environs have been good for my writing overall as THERE IS NOTHING ELSE TO DO OUT HERE! But in that regard I like it. But there is a time to everything and the silence out here can sometimes be deafening.

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