memory medley

every thought arrives disjointed- somewhere
there are wires crossing and marbles rolling
haphazardly. i am scattered,
puffs of milkweed on the breeze
or ashes in the sea. i am neither
here no there, i am lost and
i am trying hard not to be scared.
there is a drumming in my head
and a pounding in my spine
(it hurts so much to think sometimes).
memories are mixing in
with snapshots of my dreams-
did i already tell you this, or
am i still imagining things?

full recovery

I could have lied. I
could have covered up the wound,
but I was too surprised
when I woke up in my room, bloody and confused-
no idea how I got there, no clue
where these stitches came from-
but lord! they are poorly done.
I called up my brother and asked him to come;
I ate too much food to numb the ache,
to cover the break- but we are all human
and I only gained weight.
Then like so many others before me,
I bit the bullet. I gritted my teeth,
I got out of bed, I lived through the grief,
and I waited a whole day before crying.

[dream]

a city shot from his chest as he fell
where he died- when the dust stilled,
the empty field had been replaced
with a skyline.
we didn't have time
to find him, we ran like we were told- but
i can still see the sun on that city, shining
bright and gold.

Sibroyalty

she once dug nails into my skin, i
once connected my open palm
to her face, and neither of us
ever thought we'd see this day-
we share ourselves
without animosity.

i have two brothers now but
that is the least of the changes.

people would always say, "you can't hate
each other forever," to which we'd laugh,"oh,
you don't know us!" but they knew
of time, and now we know too.
it's amazing
what a few years can do.

hopeless wanderer

I want to live my life flying 
barefoot through the clouds, staring 
out of windows and breaking the surface of water 
to land. Some say that I leave too often, I go 
walking too much, but 
what is wrong with the arriving? 

The touching down, the pulling up, 
the opening 
of doors and stepping out? Nothing wrong 
I know, to each their own and mine 
is this- I will greet my friends with a smile 
and a kiss, and at the end of my trip-
wash, rinse, repeat.

stop hitting yourself

have you ever been so bored
that you caused yourself small amounts of pain
just because? a pinch on the soft spot
of your arm, nails digging into your palm,
teeth on your lip. and so on.

it is possible, I think,
to do the same thing
with your emotions.
oh, old photos of old flames! I remember
the knife
sliding past my ribs, too clearly
the feeling of letting go. this
is in the past, but here I am-
the knife is in my hands, and
my heart remembers the hurt.



Next I am going to challenge myself to write a sonnet about something again and then one about storms because I forgot how much I love thunderstorms. They are great.

one of my friends said, ‘hold on, i can’t, words’ and that has been the sad truth of my mind for quite some time. i can’t words, please hold while the program shuts down, there is no hope for communication now.yes i can speak, i can write but none of it is right, every letter is a fight and every sentence is wrong- surely this word does not belong here, surely there is a better structure for this paragraph, surely you must be joking is this all i have to work with? some days i want to calmly step out of my skin, fold it up, and step outside for a moment. other days i make sure to ride without a seatbelt and think of every scenario possible that ends with an ambulance. there are more days that i just float through, frustrated and unsure. is it enough to be alive without expressing how i feel?