April 10th

Settle underneath the pleasant sky,
And moments fall into place so softly.
When fingers twine and twist and seek companions
That's when green grass is underfoot.

Take me away o beautiful shaded tree.
Let's run and upset the heavy sidewalk.
Crush it from below and lightly step above.
My footfalls are nothing to the earth.

When I root down and plant myself, though,
I have all the earth to support me.
When heavens fall and giants strike
I know the ground underneath is my rock.

Floating through eternal nothingness
This rock is even less than me.
I find strength nonetheless
In this green and glorious beauty.

4/9/11

Sometimes it's hard to go on,
When no one thinks anything's wrong.
While festering wounds wait to scar,
And nothing seems very far,
You wait and hope for a clue,
Just give you the slightest damn what-to-do.

But things go up and back down,
Those little wounds stick around.
And you're left all alone,
Wanting to go home,
But the way you can't find
You start to feel blind
The words ring false
You can't feel the pulse
Faster and clear
The end so near
Twisted
Conflicted
Hurt
Pained
It won't go away
Troubled
Concerned
Worried
Torn.

But maybe you can be reborn.

April 6

You find me a rhythm,
You bring me a rhyme,
I turn you away,
To twist up my time.

At every new step,
Your way lights up clear,
I screw shut my eyes,
I'm blind when I'm here.

The answers you offer,
They seem to be true,
I won't let them in,
It's all I can do.

And when the morn comes,
My heart so asleep,
You've woken and gone,
Left nothing to reap.

April 5

Stretch
Muscle
Straining against these bizarre twistings of self.
How do you describe this pull?
When you stretch?
And stretch.
Taut and still the days get more and more taut.
Settle in with me.
In a rut.
And I won't want to leave it.
I may want to stand, but it hurts so much more to do so.
I settle in.
Taut.

April 4th, 2011

I'm not fucking around.
I'm not fucking around.

These wound through me.
Threads thinly spread over spaces and chasms and fine cracks.
It is crushing the bits.

Twisted round.
Around. FUCKING these chasms of knowing.
And feeling a tattered presence.
Spin into.

When is it heard?
Let the brain aerate.
Lightening in dizzying moments of freedom.
Wander into joy and heights of consciousness and watch my brain get vertigo.
Sheer breath.

Breathe through in darkness and leaden lips and eyes.
When the ecstasy exists, it follows me down into those moments of my closed eyes.
Fake it
IF EKL:fj;dkasj
that's what it always mean.s
when you look at me.
i can't see without knowing and knowing and fading further into these points of uncertainty felled as nothing but the air between my outstretched hands.
hurting.
when his words move my lips and he asks me for joy. he asks for anything.

and I fall back into it.