I’m beginning to squirm 

At the idea of a world

That wants to be equal to 

The men inside it. 

Who said that our men are free? 

These eyes are shrouded in blindness

Someone needs to teach us how to see again.




We ascribe standards

to what beauty is

One woman claiming

Her next best conviction

Ruffled. Unruffled.



All these definitions

Seem to insinuate

Something ignorant in the other.

If only we could stop measuring

And weighing

And working to prove something

To ourselves.

To the world.

To the atmosphere.

Beauty does not want to be labled.



Eyes wide
I storm into your night
Paralized you
You can see fire through me

Come closer
I burn in the prismatic
Pages of your mind

Each bend
A fading impression of me
I can’t un-crease

Come closer
You can see the parts of me
I cut off for you. . .

I cringe like a crippled
As my pieces burn. . .
Yet you count the
Ways in which you accept me.

Me. The broken child.
The wounded.
The torn.
The different.
The Unknowing
The babe of retribution

She who does not know.

I visit places
I cannot go to
Climbing hideous mountains
You have not seen

My eyes burn
From the altitude
As I rise up from dead
In your dreams

How far I have gone
I can no longer
But I know you exist
In all your acceptance of me

Grateful as I am.
But say,
Come find me
In this ever sweet
Ecstasy of my love for you.
Were you to enter
Through my chambers
In the sky
You’ll find me.

In Rage.

Between Songs & Silences

I told myself the poetry was over
That you were gone
And I could whisper your name
In a quiet quiver
No one will ever hear. . .

It has almost been a whole year
Since the earth flickered
With the glitch that was your leaving

My heart still heaving
Claws at the mountain that
Will not overflow

I am an endless sum of all the things I will be, no more.

Your essence tosses and turns
As I Try to make you move
Further than my mind can recall

I am losing this tug of war with time
I miss being able to call you mine

The tear rolls into a drop that will not leave
My chest forever
In the precipice of a heave
Falling, hurling into a soundless wail
This mind, so frail
It won’t let me cry. . .

This monumental transformation of my life
Smeared in this Bastard pain
All is empty from within.

And you disappeared, into the sky.



Closet Monsters

Black Whole-d soft hearts
bleeding stunted pride
Closed cold congregations
Bloated minds

Dodging bullets
Tossing knives of Accusations

Forgiving themselves
With each winning strike

Wasted Time.

%d bloggers like this: