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


“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.


this is my blessed week

my week, where among tired toiling

among cold shoulders and heavy boulders

when the world screams for me to fix its problems

i have found peace

i have found peace in an unlikely yet obvious place

comfort when i was not seeking it

my sleepy vigil in that small pond in the corner of the concourse

my shaking hands taking up a closed lotus flower from the surface

and waiting, praying for its blooming

when the one next to it was open and ready to receive me

we must find a piece of peace

amidst the wreckage of past mistakes

i left with everything

and came back with nothing

but empty soul and a bitter taste

my mother says when you care about something

they will use that against you

they will destroy you and make you feel stupid for caring

yet here you are

petal by petal

rebuilding my strength again

perhaps it was not what i had hoped for

but it is surely there

growing through the mud

i cannot look back

i cannot return to who i once was

i must only look forward

to you

sunday blues

she left me on a tuesday.

funnily enough, it was one of the most beautiful new york days i had seen in a while.

where the leaves were just turning red and orange like sour candy

and the wind pushed your back, urging you to go on

i got you on a thursday

but a summer thursday is different than an autumn tuesday

i had looked at the lake in your eyes

and the sun made me drunk with passion

and my freedom made me wild with thought

then two days later, on a scorching saturday

you slipped from my fingers in a hot car on the highway

and even though you watch me from the other side of the lake

i still feel as if you are a water mirage on a burning road

where far away, you are plentiful and hydrating

yet when i rush up to you, you disappear completely

a figment of my imagination, like a rainy wednesday

who are you anymore?

you are a fairytale to me,

a myth that might have once been true.

i have become as frigid as a winter friday

save for his spring mondays he brings

in your absence

do you even know

how much i have frozen with you gone?

so here i am,

with snow softly drifting on my heart

on a blue sunday night.

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