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

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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.

burning bridges

look at me

from across the bank

see the blaze reflected in my eyes

as i hold my torch to the bridge’s wood

connecting the two sides of the river

watch it curl up and shrivel with a hiss

into the ice cold waters

let your gaze slide over to my pulsing jaw

laced with the venom of a thousand years

and the lust of a revolutionary

don’t you dare look away

i’ve seen you enough to know

that’s all you’ve ever done

in a sorry attempt to preserve your

deliberate ignorance

don’t call to me

for redemption

remember this day

let it be branded into your mind

with the hot iron of my

infuriated black eyes

don’t ask yourself what you could have done

but remember what you did

i burned this bridge

before you got to it

because how can you be allowed

to cross my bridge

when i never even crossed your mind?

my god

what a waste of lumber

for a jackass like you.

the dark deep

sticks and stones

could break my bones

but words will always desert me

in the places i need them the most

i’m at a loss with you

but thank god for the pain

otherwise i would not have been able

to reach

into the depths of my soul like this

thank god for the letters that mold themselves onto my hands

and snake under my skin

without them

what else would i be made of?

broken promises and shattered expectations

made by other people

lay heaped just on the bottom of my stomach

thank god for those crushing cries

that dig into my brain and wrack my spirit

thank god for those hours in the bathroom stall

a fist clenched over the sharp pain in my chest

in a desperate attempt to find my heart

from the outside

thank god for the silence that drenches my ears

as i walk along the deep corners of empty school classrooms

thank god for others that have gone through this or worse

if these are the only feelings i can have

to survive in this world as a human

so be it

because beggars can’t be choosers.

why i write

today i looked outside of my breakfast room window

and to my surprise, i saw three long, thin vines crawling up the glass

that i had never noticed before

i write to recognize these vines

to recognize the nature

that i do not see in my rush to finish my day to day activities

i write to cry, i write to breathe

to inhale the words within me

and to exhale them into others

the kiss of life

an oxygen tank

for those who feel dead

i write to wake up

every day, to accept life’s challenge

i write to shield myself from anger and hate

i write to leave and to enter

to love, and to learn

i write

to erase

my mistakes

i write

so that others may speak

or be spoken of

to make strangers into friends

and friends into strangers once again

because we are members of the human race

laden with stories i cannot truly know without writing

they are intertwined and snake up around me

slithering into my brain, into my veins

connected together, like those vines i see

outside of my breakfast room window.

a sleepy rouse

i race the sun

with you in my lungs

and flowers spread out all over

you rattle my breath

and giggle with death

and get drunk til i nearly am sober

i love you, i love you, i love you, you said

as the silence pierced the dark night

to live is to lie in a stone cold bed

but in that moment you brought me to life

my hair, how it grew

my lips, how they swayed

like branches unfurling their buds

i rest on my pillow

among whispers of willows

my spirit pours out in floods

i reach out a hand to skim the surface

the light a twinkle in your eyes

i see you and i know the sunrise was worth it

a brook’s beautiful blessing in disguise

i am miles and miles away, i know

but the fruit it ripens, the ivy it grows

and so my darling, don’t be concerned,

should you ever need me,

look not among the trees,

but in the dew drops of your green ferns

perception

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself”

– Franklin Delano Roosevelt, “First Inaugural Address”

We may fear different things

spiders, tsunamis

a gust of wind taking you away by storm in the dark night

but it is the feeling of being scared

that is uniting in itself

for better or for worse

it is only how

we react to fear

that defines us

not to be confused with

the actual sense of terror

in this way, we must condemn the decision

but not the person

for we are all so consumed by horror

we cannot blame others

for feelings we ourselves

are currently experiencing

why would a prisoner

lash out at his cellmate for attempting to escape

when he too is trapped?

indeed, perhaps his cellmate has been only convicted of theft

and himself of murder

perhaps his cellmate has only been in prison three months

and himself for ten years

but both men long to leave the prison

because they fear what is within it

they fear what it means to be captured

and so they are both just

in their want to leave

thus, it is how his cellmate attempts to escape

that must affect the man

not his humanity itself

because by seeing himself through fear in his cellmate

he will easily be able

to suggest another way out

that liberates the both of them.

to be

the silence of the night

on christmas eve

is one of the most beautiful sounds i have heard

it is a blessing

for atheists and believers alike

the blur of the fire in the fireplace

yellows and reds crackling off a brown log

my hands cradling a blue ornament

my breath fogging its surface

looking out into the darkness

feeling the swell of the wind

and the cold in your teeth

makes you swallow it whole,

hungry for the soft drift of snowflakes

to swirl and feather onto your heart

merry christmas, i’ll whisper

and i will mean it

though i’ve said it loudly many times to other people

this time i will mean it

on christmas eve, you are neither family nor induvidual

you are simply spirit

floating in the air with your hearts in your throats

existing in the night

on christmas eve

is one of the best feelings i have felt

because it is almost as if

i am feeling for the first time

the whole of the silence

a clean mess

oh darling

you’re going to tear yourself to pieces to make her whole

like i did with you?

oh my love

if only you knew

if only you stepped outside of yourself

to see that leech crawling up to the back of your neck

if only you hadn’t been filled to the brim with stars

that are on the verge of exploding

because i look at you look at her every day

and i watch the green sky before a tornado

oh sweetheart

she’s never going to complete you

no matter how much you want her to

because you’ll spit at me, call me names, poison me, make me go mad

but you’ll always remember

what i did for you

because i am the tangy aftertaste of a milk popsicle on a hot day

my fruit sweetening and coloring your mouth

it will take more than just a washing of the lips

to get me out

i am a hiccup after a filling meal

the flavors of savory and heavy ingredients still lingering on your tongue

and invading your other senses with a stop of your heart

i’ll disappear somehow, but don’t hold your breath on it

because even though you have left me

i have never truly left you.

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