Everything, all over
Again,
Ripped from my hands just
So I will be where
He wants.
Is this what it was supposed
To be?
Fireflies
Like a see of dancing stars
Twinkling, capturing summer
In a galaxy of swaying leaves and
Tiny lights, pinpoints
Breaking the evening gloom.
I remember being small, hands
Grasping and desperately trying to learn
To be gentle, to not crush the fragile little
Things.
Until I had a galaxy of my own in a glass
Mason jar, until it could be released
Streaking across the southern sky to
Make the Milky Way
Blush.
Why
Is this happening?
Is it not enough that I
Was ready to die for it all?
Was it not enough when I saw everything
The way it really was with you?
I would never be enough
I never was enough.
And here I am again, caught in one of the
Endless circles time does.
Back here again, wishing I was dead.
Is Hell
A punishment
Or something we create
Within ouselves?
The Wheel
Turns, falls on long
And short seasons, prosperity
And famine,
Happiness and deep wells of
Melancholy.
But it always
Turns up.
Keep looking towards
The sun and you can
Find warmth in coldest winters.
Sweet Boy
I knew
You’d use me
But it still
Burned when you
Lit that flame
And
Then turned
Away.
I have
No remorse any more
For the cold iron
That has come to
Enclose myself,
It was built to
Protect me from all that
Has struck and
Scarred, grown
Out of a sense of self
Preservation, a need for
Peace
Quiet
Tranquility
Control.
I Wish
That I was pretty the way that
Men want women
To be,
Delicate and lovely, like
Roses.
But I glimmer like
Hardened steel and smell
Still of smoke
And blood
And pain, and
So instead of admiration,
They cower
Away from me, I have respect
But I will
Never know love the way
That flowers do.
You love a flower,
And fear a sword, even
When you live by
It’s ways.
I wander often
Through landscapes confined
To the solitary internal
Space,
I wear many faces,
Many names, I am
Many and one all at once,
Exploring landscapes
That are both
As I see
And as create,
But I forgot somewhere
How to lose myself
Completely in them, and weave
The stories they have
To tell, small twinkling
Stars set amongst a
Vast galaxy
Of
possibility.
And so the
Beat drops,
Cascades into a near
Infinite silence, a
Wave of deafening
Nothingness engulfs what
Could have
Been.
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