qué lástima

its happening again

yet the wet t-shirt fear i once felt before

no longer clings to me

like a second skin

no longer am i cradled

with white hot

insecurity

there are things

i have seen

and i have not seen

today is one of those things

that slipped by me unnoticed

today was a day that

instead of me going through it

it went through me

pushing me to wherever i needed to go

freezing me in snapshots of my daily life

rolling over and over

a gymnast in my throat

until i understand

what i really mean

to other people

it seems the status quo

changes every day

what mattered to me one day

melts to stone the next

the mud that festered on the bottom of my shoes

now i must save and cultivate

for myself

for shame, i say

to no one in particular

it appears that many days

i must fend for myself

because my continuous days

can only hold me for so long

and there is only so much of me

i can explain to other people

before they shake their heads

and leave me

to allow the months to gush out of my mouth

and for the year to consume me

with its black caved mouth

and empty insides.

Advertisements

dedication

feeling sick to my stomach

and slipping backwards

into a never ending cycle

knowing now what it is like

to both love too much

and to love too little

becoming night and day

whenever the sun and moon

turn their heads

all of the stars cannot stop me

from what i have become

and what i am becoming now

who knew loving so little

could hurt so much?

i am angry

at the negativity

spreading like spilled ink

on my canvassed sky at sundown

i didn’t cry

because i cared

i cried

because i didn’t

some days

some days i wonder

if i was simply born

to be pushed down

an extra

in everyone else’s grand movie

some days i wonder

if all my effort is vauable

cut and dried

worthlessness

makes a little over a decade and a half

tear at my teeth

salt and sweat gritting the bones

love and regret

plaguing the pink gums

lather rinse repeat

it only comes again

when is too much

just enough

because it feels like just enough

is too much

for everyone else

the inevitable

has happened again

some days i wonder

if

someday

is too hopeful

a word

for me to be using

peace

my old friend Peace came to visit me the other day

i had not seen her in a while

she came up suddenly without warning

on a schoolbus riding on the highway,

the sunset striping the thin clouds pink

i had expected to see other acquaintances rape me with their power amidst the rumbling engines

but Peace pushed past them 

and bloomed in my chest,

like a drop of food coloring in water,

and i welcomed her

even for just a moment.

sun

i drowned in your sunshine

until i realized

it was burning me

stinging rays piercing my unprepped skin

i thought i had put sunscreen on

i thought you would be kind

but now to me you are

a slow fiery cancer

that i want to get rid of

you expect me to give and give

there is only so much i can take

i am tired

only the old man in the moon can save me

i have been cursed

with my thin skin

its delicacy making

the weight of guilt

seem impossible to bear

look to your own kin

you will see those

who can grow in your light

you can’t look to me anymore

i have been stomped down

to ashes once again

it would take God

to reshape the dust

sifting on this hallowed ground

 

i am spent

only the light filtering from the window

can touch my face anymore

i wish it had not

turned out this way

i see you anew.

i take my heart home with me tonight

but it is also still tucked away in the back corner of a bookstore

tripping in the back staircase of a museum

my heart is feeling all kinds of new

love, unfurl yourself from your leather binds!

charge forth with a force of a thousand raging bulls

but with a tenderness of a lamb!

scream his name

with a whisper

keep the skin of his hands

buzzing in your fingertips

and the shelter of his cheek

frozen on your lips

my heart is full

of nourishment

no earthly food could imitate

or replace

my piece of peace came to me today

opening and closing with the rising

and the falling of the wind

breathless from laughing

and from kissing the pain out of me

our past may be broken

but here we are anew

smiling and loving with round young eyes

rising together as the phoenix

from the ashes does

oh, love

if only you knew him like this every day!

lullaby

i walked up to you in your cradle so small

pictures of princesses hung up on the wall

you gave out a wail, so defiant, so strong

i opened my mouth and sung your last song

lullaby,

lullaby, my love, hear the great sigh

of whistling winds that bid you goodbye

who asks when you left, and where, and why

they mean all the best, love, so please don’t cry

lay your head on my chest, and take heed to my

lullaby

perhaps you were created out of love or hate

but the chance to know came far far too late

for i had not known you had died in your sleep

so hush now, my child, while i gently do weep,

of your lullaby,

lullaby, my love, hear the great sigh

of whistling winds that bid you goodbye

they ask when you left, and where, and why

and in my great haste, i simply reply,

you meant all the best, love, so please don’t cry

lay your head on my chest, and take heed to my

lullaby

hands

hands are an extraordinary thing

mounted with perky blue veins

pale and almost translucent under the white light

crusted over with tan brown skin

and small stubby fingers

that makes the world go round

fingers stretching and tensing

enclosing on other hands

playing music

scratching the stickers off of a brand new pack of cookies

why do we use hands for evil?

pulling the trigger

gripping the blade handle

cinching the throat

hands should nurse the newborn

not a wound

we clench onto the hand

when we are first born

we show love through our hands

the closest form of

physical connection

interlinked, our hands are inked

with deep stories in its crevices

they tell of civilizations almost a million years ago

and of today

they take

and they give

and so when we

shrivel the world up to ash

they tell of a world

that cannot help

but burst into flames

by its own hands

used and destroyed

you shouldn’t have come so close

i fear there’s something dark in me

not even the brightest lightbulb can awaken

this breathless place

arid and drafty

the attic unopened

and unexplored

yet the doors fly open

at the most unexpected times

last year’s dust and bugs with sharp teeth

cough out of the room

making my eyes sting

with an anger

i can never recognize

my innards pulsing out and coming undone

out of their tightly packed constrains

popping out from the strained skin

and making me choke

on stained water

i am in my prison here

with myself as both the prison guard

and the felon

convicted of a crime

i never did

 

i know you don’t really miss me

you miss my body against yours

sliding my hair tie out of my curls

you miss my heart beat on the cold stone floor

you miss my warmth you miss the blank expanse of my stomach

that you liked to thread your fingers through

you miss my chicken scratch on a cold metal bench

you don’t miss me

you miss my convenience

you miss my awe of you

you pass your finger through the flame now, my friend

my candle will only get hotter

with each passing hour.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑