Flash of Sliver
Rush of Pain
I'm Still Hurting
Drowning in Blackness
Surrounded by Darkness
I'm Still Here
Weakened by Fear
Burdened by Sorrow
I'm Still Standing
I'm Still Alive
Home Is Where The Heart Is?If Home is Where Your Heart Resides,
Tell What Would Happen When,
Your Heart Has Lost It's Size,
Never Fitting Correctly Then?
Shriveled Up and Cracked,
Broken Into Many Pieces,
But Piled So Neatly, Stacked,
All Folded Up, So Many Creases.
Where I Come FromWhere I Come From
I come from a long line of diversity,
Where to each is his own,
None the same, yet none totally different.
I come from a long line, never straight,
Always curving to Destiny's will.
I come from a long line of dreamers.
Dreamers and Schemers
With tricks and traps on their minds
A long line of deception and misleading
Why Me?Why Me?
Why is it that they pick me last?
Why is it that every time something good happens Something bad follows?
Why can't I ever catch a break?
What are these feelings?
Why does everything that comes to mind refer to my only way out?
Why do I have these feelings?
Why is it that I feel alone?
Why is it that no one is there?
Why hasn't anyone been there?
Why am I alone?
Why Can't anyone help me?
Why don't they understand?
Why Can't I be me?
Who controls life?
Why can't I be special?
Where Is God?
Where are the angels?
Why can't they be with me?
UntitledGlide through the heavens
in hopes to evade
the crimson wings
that holds you down.
When will you shut the pearly gates
and walk away?
When will you cut the crying chains
that paint you grey?
είναι μια σιωπηλή διαδικασία αλλαγής
που αντιλαμβανόμαστε εκ του αποτελέσματος.
Δεν Μπορεί Να Είναι Ο Στόχος.
Five Reasons to Not Write PoetryI.
Sooner or later,
It'll mess with your head;
You'll be taking a shower, or
Lying in bed
When the "inspiration"
Hits you hard
And when you miss the bus and first hour
You have to use the
"I over-slept" card.
It'll have you thinking
At every point of the day;
Twisting words and making rhymes
Prodding until the language sways
To your fingertips
Lower case letters nip
In hopes that you'll use them
Abuse them until you are at
They will mock you until
You simply can't think;
The words swirling around,
They will push you to the brink
Of complete denial,
Of absolute insanity;
"Yes, I ate enough" and "Yes, I
Feel fine" are the words you
Have to beat.
You will not care how people
React to what you say;
What do they know of
What we do everyday?
You think that to yourself,
As a way to not seek help
In the comfort of real
Love and not the fake kind
You write of.
You will lie and you will
Cheat and scoff and say
For all your most
Important words are
What Rape Can't Tell YouHe parrots the word, over and over until it sticks
Like the bruises on schoolchildren's hands, when they realize purple hurts more than red
While others mourn the translation lost in between
The definition he wrote
And what they want to scream to the world.
All you know is a word,
The hell hidden beneath it is nothing
But the trace of a memory that doesn't belong
To you, and you're so glad it isn't yours
Because then that pain can just be a word,
A beautiful illusion of pretend-this-doesn't-happen and
You deserve prettier words, better words, you think
Ones that stay silent, can be hidden across a page
Victimless and longer than the four letters they warn you about
You don't know how that word is strung
Or why they tie chords around their wrists
In protest, why the memories they drag are drugged and
Filthy with the crimes that can't be forgiven
You don't know how that syllable can hurt,
What it can do
You don't see the gashes in their organs
Or the fissures tha
Forever and ever
A piece of my past
Both a pride
And a shame
Of all these moments
When the blade did
What it does best
EmbersHer hair was orange
and glowed in the fire
turning black and ash
not a single moment later
the scissors were cold
The embers were
glowing just the same
hungry for her tresses
the royal red burned
yet no burn was left
Her hair was short
uneven with amber roots
outgrowing the dye
showing her natural shade
mom and dad took the scissors away
Orange locks tickle her neck
fire cannot fight fire
mom and dad breathe easier
she does not touch the scissors
though she always looks
She is eighteen
leaving home is a blessing
her hair bundled in a hat
she does not like to see it
the brightness keeps her up at night
The hairdresser mourns her hair
more than she ever does
as it falls limply to the ground
the locks have lost their hue
she smiles as they fall
It is easier to tell people she is happy
now her hair is gone
orange roots don't show on a shaved head
she stands proudly now
she doesn't keep scis
speaking in daggersspeaking in highways,
steel lines, edges of megathrust magnets
thrown off their orbit; your glorious pain
is impersonal here -
the ghost touch of glass panes versus
skyscrapers' nuzzling during a
quake; no more quakes, no more oceans,
the crackling scares
a sparrow out of the bushes.
the hunter producing a bird
the overflowing light dissecting reeds
all the possible trajectories of a gunshot.
happiness is the khaki overgrowth
this is the amazon blooming,
its thorns devour and choke
the struggle out of you; i am a voice lost in the trees
we'll never meet
you'll never cut through here