Tuesday, March 29, 2011

sore teeth.

so far down, anything will do. grabbing at things lost and then remembered, as if you never were and never really could be. when you lose yourself in brick walls and empty phone calls, loneliness sets in like an old friend, resting on your shoulders like a mink. all the while wondering what your name is, because it seems that even God has forgotten. you will not dress up today. the only understandable things are written words and past memories... memories that are completely separate from your life now. your pride chokes your throat shut, while your mouth pushes your frustration out. and what are you left with? sore teeth. very sore teeth.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

the greatest trick ever played.

at the end of life, we find ourselves shocked at the ceasing of our breathing. did we never sense the edge of finality set against life, stretched out by the endless ticking that is Time?

we have been fooled. all of us.

Monday, March 14, 2011

we beg for the unmoving, unchangeable.

welling up with happiness for the surrounding beads of light
that scatter themselves across the velvet of my life
drowning in a sea of absolute horror
as i realize the world is getting this much older
fading tracks of winter's ruts
find themselves,
residing in traces of lust
set aside like notes on a table
the special find their hearts have nothing to label
fifteen pictures thus document my life
1 of an ocean
and the rest are lost
left, without a trace
as my hair fades into the divets of my shower
flowing freely
lost forever

Thursday, March 10, 2011


how does one become so lost between that tiny space
i forget what that feels like
but sore ankles and free screams against the forgiving night
that is something i remember

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

you wish for mirrors on your eyelids.

planted between ringing tones of protrusion and subtle notes that scream "hear me"
bring it in, don't let go of the capabilities of your mind
set loose by stinging thoughts of normality and compliance to unwritten rules
strap the buckle across ambition,
replace with inhibition
pace yourself to the sinuous feeling of settling into place
it is hard to match your shining eyes when my
bones are back at a table removed from the room, soaked in humanity
someday fabric will lightly tug against the traces of my skin,
and my fingertips will be appreciated for the thoughts they can imagine
and my fingernails thrash at cutting edge danger
waking you up from the glassy box that occupies your all

Saturday, March 5, 2011

a girl of little shoes.

now that i am girl of
little shoes,
i sit
cross-legged and convinced that it
will be better in the
just like mother
used to say
melting into carpet like
spilled water
no longer appeals to the
spotlight of my
frozen eyes
in the metal strings
vibrating with them
clicking against my ribs
i am an overtone
lost in the ceiling with the spotlight
for now i am a girl of little shoes,
a girl who treads
lightly where
many have been before
and after
and left