wish

I wish there was someplace for me.
I wish there was someone for me.
I wish I could go home but I don't know where that is.
I wish you were home to me.
I wish I could get it all out.
I wish I could stay still.
I wish I could keep moving.
I wish I could paint and write.
I wish I wasn't a tortured artist.
I wish I could get a break.
I wish I could fly.
I wish I wasn't scared to fly.
I wish someone would hug me and mean it.
I wish I wasn't so physically uncomfortable when people hug me and mean it.
I wish I could love.
I wish I could stop being scared of loving.
I wish I could stop wishing and start living.

I have come full circle.
I feel nothing.
Someone in passing once told me that they lacked empathy.
I am becoming that lack of emotion.
My bones were picked clean in the feeding frenzy and now I am perfect.
Clean and without the extra weight.
I have started building a beautiful igloo.
I am the ice queen.

i sleep in shifts and dream in miracles

I sleep in shifts and dream in miracles
A tight-lipped deafness, low pitched as snow
It's only when you speak that I can listen
Immutable, you keep to yourself

This endless wait at forgotten stations
Hours turn to days and then into years
So annoyed with impatience
While my dreams start to fade

Through the dark and the distance
Those shadows could only be yours
While longing increases so do sparks of regret
As my dreams turn to color
I fear it may all dissipate

Your voice stings my ears
Slow cold burn, too loud to fade
I try to speak but am muted
Consumed by your volume
My dulled senses erased

Envelope me in the warmth
Of your loud technicolor soul
And sing sweet songs in my ear
While your lips graze at my senses
I wake up again in my black and white world

defective

my heart plays the same old broken record
i keep sending a message that indeed things have changed
yet i still hear the record, skipping and playing that same old tune
i dig in to find the answering machine broken
taking the tape out i find a complete tangled mess
it encircles my fingers and then binds at my feet
and i call out for mercy, but there is no one to hear
so i am trapped here to listen to the same old record
skipping and screaming the same broken tune

happy helmet

sometimes i let it all bleed out
and it pours and breaks apart into tiny droplets
mercury like-pooling in crevices
and i try to get it back
i try to sop it up with my hands
but my hands are slick from the fast getaways
which i grease myself up for over and over
so that this time i'll come away unscathed
i don't want them to see what came out of me
then they might know that there's nothing left

february

the subtext of conversations we can't have has more consequences than the words that spill from our mouths. deep in the psyche it resonates of reasons that words fail to convey. the emotion that paralyzes is a physiological response to fear of the trigger of that gun we keep pointing. again and again. are you pulling the trigger on your imaginary happiness? i won’t toy with such luxuries as imagination and happiness. or hopeless romanticism. hopeless indicating a shred of hope? eradicating romance? i can’t afford such luxuries. if you aim to kill then pull the trigger already but make sure it bleeds out. and all that is left is an empty carcass. of what could have been. then set it aflame with all the passion in your heart. then watch it burn. and blow away the ashes on a wish. like a candle on a cake of too many wishes unfulfilled.