suspended crystals,

defining and uprooting our hearts,

we are endless raindrops

tracing fractals from the inside,

absorbing the divine scent with our every move

hoping the next incorporeal body of Love

will shapeshift our being,

making us a mystery unto ourselves once more

THE WELL INSIDE STARTS TO BOIL ( Read more... )

The grief isn't a dark hole that threatens to swallow ( Read more... )

I tend to follow in the foot steps of my past and as my feet find themselves fitting within my past impressions in the mud, I discover my feet used to be bigger.What has happened; to all the strength I used to have, has it faded like the black of my hair as it falls or turns white, or have I forgot who I once was. There could be no mistake I ( Read more... )

Just one of many as I stand alone.
A mass of plenty but on my own.
I dream of a tomorrow where I can try.
A great tomorrow where I can fly.
I try to say "We'll be better today."
Even if just a few, just a few find their way.
I would not cry if you did not see,
that because of you there is a me.

Sometimes the weather is cold outside and I must wear my coat and boots to stay warm ( Read more... )

I'm not home. I just woke up next to someone I don't know, in a place I don't think I've ever been. I have to ask myself the usual questions, which always begins with: What the hell haPpened? What do I remember last? How do I get back to "normal" without someone noticing? Who was I last? What happened? 

I wore today like a swollen flower ( Read more... )

I miss talking like we used to.
Where words meant everything.
And we didn't have to hold up the constellations.
Just so the stars wouldn't fall.

Nothing makes any sense.
Without the bliss of skin rubbing next to unidentified bones.
And I'm so sick of silence.
And how everything means nothing.

I've been feeling crushed lately.
Suffocating on the things I ( Read more... )

If we were walking in a city of thousands, would you still feel the air break as I reached for you in passing. The time right before dawn calls often into the backdoor of night. She speaks of frusteration, desperation, and being forgotten by all- an hour after she bids goodwell. Still the arrow of my desire flies directly to the walls that house ( Read more... )