Poetry
The air is cold this time of year Sweets spill out my coat pockets Ravenous rules feed an urge to kneel But my knee popped out of its socket Learning to walk all over again I made presents from your coal I refuse to let you carry my pack Just
Poetry
I no longer scramble for your validation and on the other side of that needy desperation I see that scarcity had less to do with whether or not I was deserving of your station, and more with your inability to be kind I feel freed by a new peace of
Poetry
I wonder what it would feel like to be validated by them. Under the wing of my own mother hen. Ink spills over our desk, so I pick up the pen. Carefully chosen words fall on deaf ears. Oily feathers revealed to be spears. My ink bleeds over wasted years.
Poetry
I am a supraorganism. A colony. A vessel. Microscopic beings outnumber me in a body that was never mine alone. As the captain it's my responsibility to build them all a more hospitable home. I am one star, in the galaxy that is humanity. I need no moon.
Poetry
Healing is cleaning with a dirty rag. Scared of being labelled as a drag. I hide sharp things inside my bag. Spilled milk begets a game of tag. Streaks of grease I could never erase. New horizons beg me not to stay. Better than I was, yet forever stained. Learn
Poetry
Maybe not being able to hear a voice in my head Is an invitation to speak gentle thoughts out loud I’ve made the mistake of yelling them into a crowd Faces of strangers marred with darkness Muzzling me with a lack of guidance Still I stumble Cutting my hands
Poetry
I feel a gnawing emptiness in my belly I'll nourish you, my love My chest is full of muddy water I'll drain it for you, my love I want to hide away from artificial lights Return to me whenever you need, my love
Poetry
Lonely little daddy’s girl. Vessel, vehicle, portal. I’ve primped and prodded myself into a veritable morsel, Yet no fish can I catch. No longer able to see the depths I wade out into darker waters. My heart races. The speed with which I’m snatched. Was it ever
Poetry
Consequences are mine to behold, sluggish with the weight of another. Morals I bought repeatedly sold, finished rebuilding my rudder. Mentally ill with a heart of gold, forgetting the feeling of rubber. Automatically doing what I have been told, my ancient dreams lay covered. Trimmed white sails, I dodge the
Poetry
You don't see the being inside of me. Surface level projection of your beliefs. A flesh Acheron inconveniently diseased. Nasty for the sin of being free. Unfit for you to live vicariously. I try instead to live for me. An attack you'd like to believe. But
Poetry
You showed genuine interest in what I love and I knew in my bones you were a friend
Poetry
Some things I write will never be seen I keep treasure close to my chest People out there can be terribly mean I am tired of them and need rest Whether their thoughts are kind or sullen It makes no difference to me They can think silly thoughts all day