Poetry & Songs

obnoxious

slow down.
too loud
too loose
high mood
high noon
and i'm liquified
and i'd just die
on the tile floor
pushing a little more
for your yes
for your mess
for this glass
for a laugh
or a few
it's not new
it's my mood
it's the moon
as it shifts
and i switch
back and forth
wanting more
but needing less
as not to stress
myself out
or to shout
far too loud
in this crowd
so you'll hear
that it's clear
i'm here for you.
but us two?
slow down.
i'm everywhere
as each hair
stands on end
as i bend
backwards towards
sliding doors
marking this
a foreign bliss
or maybe that
a syndrome flat
hiding forever
being clever
but never knowing
what we're not showing
so i'm loud
with a shroud
too loose
high mood
high noon
and i'm petrified
that i'd die
'neath these eyes
and darker skies
of your rejection
and the inflection
of your taste bitter
that you'd fit her
better
while i'm still fettered
to you.
slow down.
quiet now
see how
the silence fixes
and transfixes
them to me
how i see
and i'm intriguing
and now they're bleeding
for more words
have they heard
i'm a mystery
i'm very interesting
i'm a bottle neck shut
i'm a bursting virgin slut
seeing everything but
you.
slow down.
can i listen
to this transmission
calling me to forget
and never let
anyone break me
fallen fake pleas
of social indulgence
of self-control quenched
fears of man
fears of hands
reaching for a rung
already strung
with falsification
and dirty damnation
that leads to sadness
and a sort of madness
akin to the sin
we all fall in
and must renew
and must pull through
so i'm trying my best
so i'm beating my chest
at the screaming of death
and the final breath
of truth.
slow down.

 

de la lune

 

death at the lips of the ocean
and the tide responding to the call of the moon
receding
receding
receding
there was nothing i could do

 

Split Ends

The whisper of scissors cutting my hair.
A quicker inward gasp, swallowing the air.
Pieces of me left in fragments on the floor.
They are the dead, the past, and what for?
I am healthy now, new and light.
Yet it seems, somehow, not right
leaving trickles of me behind;
letting the sun-drenched be declined
and without the roots that once held life;
eradicated with a sudden, screaming knife.
It’s a shock that takes you by surprise.
It’s the surface for the newly baptized.
It’s a letting go of what needs to leave
and finding that there’s space to breathe
in a world once wrought with a me
that is no longer. This is nearer to free.
This is stronger. This is the new pain
that molds the layer I was meant to attain.
This is the baggage left there, unneeded;
That is seen and, rightfully, well heeded
as I walk away from those silver silken sheers
that I once hated. That made everything clear.
That I appreciated as they did me a favor
and allowed me to not hold on and savor
what was threatening the good to come.
The new beginning. The sinking and rising sun
and the knowledge that I am okay.
The hair is left there to be swept away
so the ground can meet her next decay.

heaven over water

a white moon hangs in the black night sky

the all seeing eye

tells me

i know 

don't worry

everything is right

My Darkness

These are my darkness.
Of the warm tears falling down my cold
cheek.
A raven fluttering its wings
over night filled with tender dreams.
These are my darkness.
Of the cares never received, only perceived,
hopelessly.
A blister cold beneath my teeth
that clench down the truth I scream.
These are my darkness.
Of the hands grasping, stitched upon my
knees.
A restless pleading that would send me
outward to take hold other hearts beating.
These are my darkness.
Of feeling and being so unseen that I'm
deteriorating.
A camera capturing a high speed
decay, overlooked and fascinating.
These are my darkness.
Of the blurring eyes and face pixelating
slowly.
A girl who's easily forgotten and forgetting
that she was loved once sacrificially.
These are my light and my darkness.
Of the blood and body that is actively
dying.
A promise not felt currently, poignantly,
but exists, nevertheless, eternally.

Buried Alive

It's getting harder to hide.

I'm falling apart on the inside.

It's a speeding car without breaks

heading straight

for a brick wall. 

Maybe if you were to call 

out to me I'd break free; finally flee
from this speed 

and just slowly bleed 
in your arms. 

But I'm not pretty enough for you to want to save me; 
I've got nothing in the way of charms. 

So I'll just crash like crazy 

and hope I don't cause any harm.

It's in a shell I recoil; 

a breathing corpse grasping at the soil. 

I'm in a body unwanted, 

soul haunted with pain and grief. 

Maybe, for a moment brief, 

you would attempt to see 

the depth of me 

that lies 'neath 

the shroud of my teeth 

gleaming bright. 

But my smile has always been a kind of release for them;

I've given every inch of my light.

So I'll keep my sorrow hidden

and hope they aren't feeling my fight.

It's suffocating, the ground -

the dirt so thick you can't hear a sound.

I'm choking on rocks in my throat;

my lungs coat

with the dark grave

that slips and begins to cave

in on the hollow bones 

shaking alone

in my skin;

the air growing thin

without you.

But because I still lie alive in this body of death

I find a longing still lingers through.

So I'll savor every single one of my breaths 

and claw away to a surface new.

Of Mists at Dawn

The breath of God carries you.

Molasses slow, you roll and move.

Drifting, leaves quiver beneath your belly.

Blue morning light, you awaken.

Heavy, you spread wide to haunt

the forest floor; trees suspend and separate.

Thick, you pillow and bellow and

they act like sky-scrapers.

Peeking, they hang and hover.

The army of you charges, encloses, embraces.

Hugging, you hold their necks,

lifting long and high above your reach.

  

You stay for a time.

  

Purple, the light changes shade 

quicker than you can say goodbye.

Fading, you wrestle for life.

The shroud of you rips and recoils;

like a whisper, you’re but a moment

and the earth made lucid in your absence.

Unveiled, with grace you resign.

Vapors vanish away as they came.

Yellow, the light sweeps asunder.

A song alights your lover’s skin.

Requiem, the dawn calls forth 

and you sleep until the day’s rebirth.

The Mortification of Me

And I am again overpowered.

All mind of mine could rage against,

yet I still fall back, snatched by this 

impulse to do what I hate. 

Mortified am I, taken towards

the dark of the spark that ignites

and I weaken; and I'm outside myself;

I am some body without a will or a

sanity for the sanctity I once longed for.

Voiceless, I am not who I am. I am silent 

within the me that is not myself.

This is the mortification of me:

beginning and ending with you - 

you unknown, body-less one who 

enraptures me with life empty of 

life. So I crawl out of my muck and

feel stuck once again in this cycle that 

stifles every piece of my mind. Am I

to be enslaved to this white washed

cave that leaves me alone in the cold

waiting for love to come back to my 

heart feeling filthy? I want to be free. 

I want to stop asking for freedom. I want to be 

past this so I can declare victory. 

Yet here I lay, fetal and afraid of what

I've done and who I am. 

This is the mortification of me:

that who I am is not what I've done -

that what I've done is not enough to 

out-stain the blood that covered 

everything and every me. 

So I open again, a bird just as broken and 

yet just as mended as I've ever been. 

Through the ashes, I climb again

to that joy that I've known long enough 

that every corrupt passing passes behind.

I may be mortified, but it was He who died

so that I may rise, as I must, from the dust

and live with a gust of wind ever-flowing,

always knowing: I am won.

porcelain

break my neck, crack my spine,

i am merely a fly drenched in wine.

pour it down porcelain,

blood stained rich and divine.

my back hunched from the weight

of the meaning, of the voices of my 

enemies screaming, teaming up on me

and i lie bleeding. blue light

beaming in the dark. aged scents

pull me deeper, draw me into the 

sleeper that cradles the creeper,

the shadow looming in the dark. a

cloud in the corner, a cave in the 

ceiling peeling away at my skin. he 

draws me in. again he grins at my

sin and lifts my limbs weaker. do i 

answer? what can i say to this

cutting cancer that keeps me

reeling? a feeling of wretched

worthless withering. slithering he 

comes down from the corner and

meets me, greets me with a 

crooked finger, a touch that lingers. 

putrid, i melt with decay; all good

deeds of the day wasted away. i am

an insect; rotting flesh filled with 

this infection of filth that floods

every fiber of my blood with stain; a

brain born brimming with blame. 

pour it down porcelain. 

pour it down porcelain.

pour me down porcelain.

You're Picking Wildflowers for Her

I've been replaced,

yet I rest.

Fingers laced with another, time will open

your eyes.

With the rising dawn it will fall upon you; a 

weight poured heavy in the night: 

She's not me.

 And she never will be.

And you'll realize it selfishly.

And I won't be in her eyes. And my mind won't

be in her mind. And you'll wait for

me to come, in the moments with 

the sinking sun, 

and I won't be there. 

You pick wildflowers for her

to place in the vase of the void within you

where I once stood blooming. 

A bouquet

made of all the days you wasted us away 

in a careless decay. 

Lean into her, 

with legs tied tight to hold on to the thing

you mindlessly create. 

Her skin will wear thin in what feels like

a moment, so hold it close

and hope it lingers longer than what 

your wisdom would warn you. It'll make you

feel again. 

And I'll pray. 

And I'll ask for the Son to

shine brighter in the end, making amends

amidst this chaos. 

That an eruption of beauty would undo me

and my anger. That the inevitable tears

will wash us all in 

something sweeter. 

And that the fragrance you paved

would fade to a 

misted memory

glanced upon with the knowledge of 

something greater. 

Behold

Are you afraid

 because it would ask you to be 

vulnerable?

And in that 

vulnerability

you fear you'll be ripped to shreds?

That walking through those doors means

you'll meet with 

humanity:

the kind within yourself,

the kind within others.

It's the humanity that kills you;

that pushes you farther away;

that waves to you at a distance,

beckoning,

 telling you this is 

home

but you won't believe it.

Were they not kind to you?

How did they tear you through? 

So much so that you'd refuse even 

a friend's hand into the 

blue. 

What have they done to you?

That nothing, not even the words of an 

omniscient Savior

would persuade your

mind mangled 

with doubt; 

with fear.

To even come near and hear 

the truth.

Is it hard to face? 

How long must He chase

until you finally break down 

exhausted?

He wants you,

but it's still your choice. Do you 

risk your fear of people for the

hope of radiant 

love?

For the warmth of a 

soft hand 

and a 

soft word. 

What darkness has kept you 

from seeing 

light beyond brokenness?

It won't be perfect.

It will get messy.

But will you weigh the cost?

 How far will you 

wander lost without guidance?

With only your own mind navigating a 

world beyond your comprehension?

Break through these 

tensions

and pass the threshold.

Dig through the dirt and find

gold.

Breathe in, brother, and 

behold. 

The Wolves

Hungry are the wolves

That watch me as they wait

Their eyes are feasting on my flesh

My body is the bait

Their minds are thirsty for

The blood that slips and drips

It’s down my bones, within my skin

They long to lick my lips

Born into what I am

They think me as a meal

But I pretend I cannot tell

They lust for me with zeal

How carefully I walk

Down the path they line

Breaths heavy and bellies aching

Their fingers graze my spine

Crack! cry my bones

As they break my solid form

Their minds are wild and savage

When their blood begins to warm

Hungry are the wolves

That watch me as they wait

Their eyes are feasting on my flesh

My body’s lost too late

A Season

Her name and her face was a season

With a voice sweeter than honey in May

Her thoughts only revealed within reason

To the friends who became her warmth and stay

Her beauty trapped her outside of the veil

She couldn’t help the love that came

When grace brought forth its mercy tale

She sought solace in his holy name

But slowly her fire faded away

The forgiving flames flickered out

But still an ember promised to stay

Even with a heart smothered in doubt

She got up but she couldn’t walk

With happiness present before the fall

I guess her words were all just talk

I guess we didn't know her at all

She always seemed to be too weak

With a face revealing underlying lies

And in every place she’d hide she’d seek

Finding nothing but lover's lusting eyes

Her innocence was lost with time

Growing up tangled in what she wove

The farther she stepped, the higher she climbed

And the deeper she fell, the lower she dove

She’ll be at the bottom before she looks up

Though it seems it can’t get worse than this

A savior remains with his blood filled cup

Revealing what she desires to dismiss

She’ll turn to the world and see she’s alone

With foolish fake friends flown distant

And all she’ll have is those of the bone

The bride’s body remains existent

And most of all she’ll still have “I’m”

Who sought her in the darkest of night

The lover whose love lasts longer than time

The one who changes her crimson to white

The Blood in the Bowl

Painting pictures on the wall

Of every single breath and every wake

Your canvas makes me feel so small

Your colors drip, your heart is fake

Dipping brushes in every bloody bowl

Trying to make love with every stroke

Slitting flesh to make it all seem whole

Striking walls until they’ve finally broke

I cannot live with my heart still broken

What can fill the missing space?

With lust must come words unspoken

It’s in your eyes, it’s in your face

You can’t fix me

You can’t trick me anymore

Your body gives me nothing

Without your heart, what was it for?

I’m wasted out, washed up and damned to glean

Someone come and save me,

Break my chains, enslave me

With that love make me clean

Every glide seems darker still

And every moment grows a haze

At the time it seemed a thrill

Now I’m left with memories you gave

Masterpieces turn to trash

Great works are thrown to dirt

Thoughts remain of a guilty past

A heart still bleeds and beats with hurt

I cannot live with my heart still broken

What can fill the missing space?

With lust must come words unspoken

It’s in your eyes, it’s in your face

You can’t fix me

You can’t trick me anymore

Your body gives me nothing

Without your heart, what was it for?

I’m wasted out, washed up and damned to glean

Someone come and save me,

Break my chains, enslave me

With that love make me clean

Painting pictures on the wall

Of every single breath and every wake

Your canvas makes me feel so small

Your colors drip, your heart is fake

The Divide

Such destruction. Such a divide.
Our generation draws the line.
The gray grows opaque and our eyes can
differentiate
the state that we are in.
A price will be paid.
A choice must be made.
Believe in yourself
or hold onto your faith. 

Such disruption. A vivid divide.
There are only two, so pick a side.
You're in or you're out, so rethink all your
doubts
and shout loud and drown the din.
The masters are chosen.
Whether you think so or not.
Come together, cast your lot.
Here we are, unwoven.

Self destruction. Such a collide.
Our generation takes their sides.
The gray is gone and with the dawn our blades are
drawn
and the fawn will feel his sin.
Lead us into battle.
The Sun covers the sky.
The chains begin to rattle.
One of us must die.