I love contemplation, curiosity, self awareness, imagination and strange things. I write about the human condition, and often write about love lost. Tragic, haunting, graphic, strange, heart-wrecking sorrow calls to me, and so; I write. I believe there is beauty in sorrow. I’ve lived it, seen it, felt it, know it. I hope that my words create a Universe of their own for you, full of visuals and contemplation.
Mother I feel so very old today How I can feel like I’m dying, yet feel numb I can’t explain I’m so lonely, so alone And I wish that I knew how to put heartbroken away – Pack it in that well-worn suitcase sitting quietly in the back of my closet… Heartbroken is so loud Regret and defeat, unwanted, unloved, dead dreams and emptiness clinging to it – Time grinding away at my bones, my mind, my soul, wringing through it… Mother How did I get here so fast? How is it that you’ve been gone all these years? It seemed like you didn’t fight, but I know that you did, in your own way I would have given up so much for just one more word But you climbed inside of yourself without a goodbye I was ambushed by the abnormal in the normal of your dying – When the sound of your voice ran off, and took with it the green light in your eyes… I was that little girl, standing on the playground at Madison Turned toward the window of our apartment, waving to let you know that I made it Waiting for you to wave back I didn’t know that you would disappear before you left for good – Was it the chemicals? Or the fear? Or bitterness or rage? Or that you were tired of the story and abruptly turned the page? Mother I haven’t been happy in such a long, long time I make the best out of it though, like I always have I blow kisses to the mirror And whisper to midnight Because if I didn’t then no one would ever see or hear me And I think I would go mad Yes, I have someone but he finds me hard to love I thought that it was the other way around But he tells me that I’m crazy, feeds me IV gasoline lies Says that I was damaged before he ever touched me – Then stabs me once or twice Mother I miss our coffee and conversations in your little kitchen when I’d go home to visit You often said that when you get old no one wants you, and I woke up old today Too tired to care anymore To put heartbroken away – How did I end up here so fast, in this brutal, forsaken place? I’m just having a moment where I feel ashamed and alone Where wounds are reopened as rock hits each bone If I could cry, I’d drown myself, but I’m full of sawdust like a scarecrow I’ve tried to be kind, tried to show love, tried to be lovely, and bubbly and true But I’ve felt like a ghost for most of my life I can’t even come close to expressing how much I wish you were here
Were I to give evidence of the depth of my pain To spew forth the vile atrocity that is this heartache To fling back my head and howl this unflinching hell, with every muscle, tendon, bone… Then those whom gather in my lonely corner; The forsaken, withered angels – Would they feel my heart slamming into steel, glass and concrete, on the way down? To strike the cement To splatter on the sidewalk Crushed by this fleshless entity that we all seek Despite its tendency to snatch back all that it gives to us
– A winged heart and starburst eyes, that peer down on a rosy dream, while soaring high above heaven –
Is any creature listening? Any… thing? Expel this numb death from beneath my skin, having taken root After loves cruel, unblushing fingers left me gutted…
Dandelion eyes, spitting helicopter seeds of possibility Floating around me everywhere, when I met you Roots reaching to the sky, in my mind Two flames passion crashing, setting fire to the sea Words like filmy kisses Desert heat like a satin ribbon, snaking down my spine While skin and musk, aching, arching and sliding, played in my head Like on a big screen at a summertime drive-in Eden without sin… But this, this was out of my depth – Malengine blood in your sulphuric veins Brutal evisceration – 13 hours after God breathed eternity, you began murdering your soul in perverse ways So disquieting that you bruised the sun Until the sky turned black
Literary masterpiece crumpled into a morceau, by a thousand movements of your hands Papercuts and ink stains Simple totems that point toward your destructive appetite; All that you wait to devour Despite the cost, the loss, the pain Melting down, over this valley like candlewax Like blood down a tv screen during a horror movie, syrupy-slow and sickly sweet You were listening to me, but I caught your eyes looking over there And where they fell, your mind followed I know that road well; I know that little town and all of the noise in it – Knew it before you came Before all of this was even a blip on your radar, and you became a damn fool – Wouldn’t let go of all of it, to hold on to me And the lies that you bled fed the ground until even the weeds died Your warrior way is no longer a part of the red road So take your arrows and feathers to your prayer sticks And humble yourself before your god Before the last of your shadow disappears and you’re gone Too venomous to keep in my heart Too mangled in spirit to be a ghost The only whispers in the air that linger of you – Your attempts to make me the cause of your effect To expect me to be a savior yet anoint me a demon Your memory?… the sound of metal in my ears Scraping down my chalkboard spine
This quiet desperation These camera lens eyes have developed fractured tears That rush like a furious rainfall running down the stairs After curling the edges of filmstrips piled high in the attic; Yellowed memoirs Often left unfinished, though not for a lack of trying Unseasoned years littered with coffee and cigarettes, bent and tangled dreams, and the chill of injured shadows… I have built myself into a mishmash of corridors that lead into limbo – Paper mache covered cliches keep me safe from myself I need to find my eyes again Dig them out from beneath these mounds of frozen ground Where earth and carcass of bird are tethered solid until spring Feathers spread like delicate pointy daggers, or barricades, or compasses Innocence and bittering rippling in the wind… This deadness is quieter than falling snow – Tastes musty on my tongue, and my fingers are blue Not because it is minus ten degrees, but from holding onto the coffin It’s backwards, exactly – Others push the coffin away, while in dreams I wander among lush sprays, of which to adorn mine But I guess that it is with the unknowns that I feel the most alive My arms full with the familiar plumpness of unpleasantness, and a disappointment bouquet Dead petals dripping soft darkness… It is my corrosive tendency to take the route of punishment – I take my traumatism and my wounds seriously Plaster and stitching needle, antiseptic, apologies, and lilies by my bedside To cobble the disrepair that’s maliciously beautiful… I can’t bear the feeling of failing you I can’t suffer you leaving I pinch and pierce, dig and claw, shove you back against the thorns Keep you far from me Devour seed, sever roots, irrigate weeds Reopen scar tissue with pendulating fingers, and an orphidian tongue… Dance with tomorrows funeral; Lime liquor on my lips, as they feed the air with sloppy syllables While my incoherent fingers knock over the pawn – And it rolls across the checkered floor, bouncing off of rooks and horses, like a flailing top in a hedge maze… I want to stuff my bones with sugared stars Fill my veins with cherried passion Leave the rotting of these seasons to the stones and lambswool – Wrap it snug and deep, weigh it down, to quiet my temptations, so I can sleep… The bones are gone There are no bones to hold me The tongues hold on The stories that they told me – A thousand burrs in a field, among the crumbling stalks Beneath the threadbare sky Dot my grueling mind Estranged lips spitting dandelion parachutes, that float and land, to seed Malignant crust, that sprouts cholera mind And Cemetery eyes