They would call me insane if they knew of the voices I have above my head
They would call me insane if I told them of my enlightened mind
So they want us to think aloud
And share all our secrets?
Lifted
Hovering by my bedside
With some lips that tucked me in
Nothing special to keep us up all night
We made sure when we’re together we’re lifted
Still
The window is broken but you open it still
Creating mass and spaces to sit on
To worry about; challenge freedom in
You help me speak and understand nothing
There is no right or wrong with you
You
The mystic, the wonder
The ending of my cycles
Severed as selfish stings of venom
It’s you
It’s you
You gave, oh yes you did
Fickle flavor created my taste
And as my appetite fluctuates
I choose to starve
Washed over in drought
Sand dunes and Florida watered illusions
I see you
I saw you
I thank you
Persistent Light
The light stood erect in the moonlight
Attempting to project its glare
Onto the damp bay
Struggling glint cutting in bits and pieces
By the selfless oak shining in the spotlight
And as I observed through broken glass
I raise concern and a sense of identity with the persistent light
If I should admire all that survives
all that clears the ridged paths
In vigorous praise or failure
Nature & nurture
Rupture
My reality squirmed and dripped
Spawning frostbite and shower
On an ego so willing
Soul winning
In admiration you’d twist
Once more strong man
Earth’s rider
Street survivor
Drink up
I feed you hidden disaster
Hoping to expose you
Piece by pieces
I overflow into you
Gargling and painfully saturated
You chew
And may your heart set before your stomach ruptures
Pink
Cotton pink undertones
Close by with gentle age
She was creamy, so soft
My eyes sparkled as we met
Pixie baby looking all confused
Going for a ride with mine
I sit silent
I study her magic
The way her skin rainbows
The concern in her delicate sweet face when I leave
Tiny glass
My lover was passive
He was made of glass and
We didn’t appear full enough
Tried making eye contact in summer trees
Seeing we weren’t meant to become lucid bees
Just tiny things playing make believe
Reason
I always come back to sadness
Maybe it’s a shape shifting anger
Maybe we’ve hung her; together
But it’s all I ever knew, it’s whom I make true intricate love to
I inflicted upon me paired with hesitations and soon to be’s
cause well maybe I’m human
I sink through all your deadly seas
I sort through my pieces of wool and used flannels and cloth
And I touch the human in every passerby knowing it’s never enough
I touch the heart that aches with stone burning parallels
I touch the mouths through mountains of victims as the dead sings farwells
I vow to be untouched
It’s not enough to breathe in and exhale my stomach, my liver; my heart
It’s hard enough to wake alert and dress up the rest with the earth’s hardened dirt
Soul tied to a suit and some layers that aren’t mine
But to most it’s fine, some say quite divine
I couldn’t harm a fly; I wish to kill a billion
And so
I harm the self that promises to let things go (let things sow)
Burdened by the death of each solitary season
Hands pressed in pulses pleading to be granted the sights of a hermits reason
Freegrandmaa 