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#original poetry

The King of Patience

He waited at the cusp of the stairs

For his dame

Seeing how long he would wait

Was her game

As time spun he turned to stone

A fairytale fame

And was crowned with great patience

Though his queen never came

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It has caught me again,

wrapped it’s chains around my soul,

the weight dragging me back,

to the darkness I tried to escape.

A listless and empty vessel,

nothing left but stale air,

and broken dreams.

Nothing holds my attention for long,

as my thoughts drift back to the past,

and my heart refuses to forget the pain.

I was never meant to be whole,

a pathwork of mix match pieces,

the parts that were left after each break,

glued together but barely holding on at the seams.

A broken doll, cracks across every surface,

the paint peeling, showing layers upon layers,

glimpses of all the different faces I have worn.

I nolonger know which face is truly mine.

This darkness has placed me in the shadows,

and once again I do not have the fire to light my way.

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Treasure chest,

You make a mess,

Scared of being less than best,

Sacrificial time we save,

As love slips by your darkened gaze.

And soon, the phone starts ringing,

Warning of the half-light that this time will soon be bringing,

So you’ll cut the line and go to bed,

Sew your eyelids shut for one more night,

Let your skin escape your mind,

And your fingers worry away at a tangle of thread.

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I was close.
that is the sense I got,
closeness .
like that feeling you get
on Christmas eve,

you are ten years old,
and you want to believe.

you can’t sleep close

opening presents close

that certain cloudy
overcast look to the sky
that foreshadows
snow any time now close

impending close

orgasm close

then one day
she moved away

I prayed
I pleaded
but the closeness

not in microscopic increments
not in nanoseconds
a void appeared
the closeness became
something to miss
whimpering cries
from the abyss

I was close
I was close
I was
I was

the window
is open

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I’ll  translate the meaning
of time into fragments
un-lived in,

fragments where
need not be forgiven.

all the pieces together
adrift on a cosmic stream,

into one body of light
as it travels
in and out of your dream.

across space unimpeded,
flashing it’s heart
as a sigh,
as a sigh that softly

a caged soul then looked
before it was too late,

a caged soul grateful
I was there to translate

eternities pulses
with my impulses.

a reflect tion
of the sorrow that
we all see


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The End or All Things

Armageddon is coming

I can taste it on the breeze

And the horsemen

Are already riding

Round in round in circles

Imitating the galaxy

Which forswore their existence

Billions of years ago

They won’t forgive me for it

I am the lady of the stars

The daughter of the being

That wrote them out of the internal story

My breath alone

Proves that they are worthless

To all that are alive

But still they prosist

Attempting to trade everything

For nothing


For their insatiable violence

And when it doesn’t work

They’ll burn me alive

But I was born in the fire

So In the flames I will rise

And paint my universe

Red with my blood

In my ashes

They will be destroyed

For the good

Of all that sing

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Dark and light grey

A battle commenced of dark and light,

In a field of grey, they stood,

Mistakes of intense height,

The white light of good,


The black dark of hell,

Dark and light grey cracked the sky,

A story generations from now shall tell,

One side shall win, one side will lie,


A thread of sunlight in the colour gold,

The last defence before the gates of pain,

Will it hold?

Against the life bane?


Is this home?

What is this fear of death and bone?

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There’s a dementor in my house.
I know because when I walk inside
all my happiness says goodbye
and I start to cry as I flee upstairs.

But there’s a dementor in my room.
Every day it looms in my doorway,
haunting me with regrets and failures,
so I take cover in my covers.

It turns out the dementor’s in my head.
My bed provides no protection from
the doom that has followed me here,
inescapable, because I am a muggle.

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This is dinner. You,
rosy at the end
of the year in a photo
I’m only seeing now
and the sign on the bridge
saying life is worth living.
It is orange like a hazard,
tired like flying east,
waning like this cycle
of forget.

You would
hack through a continent
that doesn’t want you around
before asking
for my help. Choose
more of the known
because it hears you out.
But no one preserves us
better than the view
up here.
There’s a shrine
you don’t deserve
and everyone gets sick
coming all this way
in the rain to ask you
to bless them.
You accidentally call me
by my mother’s name
and we spoil
your invitations
meeting our need again.

Where to tonight?
The vinyl-sided version
of scarce
and too old
and in love with someone else
will do
when the deal
we made as new friends
doesn’t vest. We were foolish
and fast before hard
got hard. Before
a movement made
where we were going
too bright and too wrong,
and took us home.

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They said her looks would never be important, 

That it didn’t matter whether she had long or short hair, 

Wore crop tops and held her head

Like no other ever would. 

They said it was fine for her to be herself, 

But the silence that echoed for years 

Showed that was not good enough. 

She was not good enough, 

So her best friend abandoned her,

She became a pushover, 

Lost all her friends,

She slowly became no one,

And so she was swallowed up in the expanse of high school. 

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And after all these years of moving, I found myself back where I began, I knew I would come back because my dreams told me so and Now it’s time to move again

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I’m clueless, I’m breathless,

Everything seems off of gravity

I’m wonderless, I’m smoothless

I’m looking at the longevity

I’m floating away, leaving everything at bay,

Watch as the stars fly farther,

Watching the flight of a bluejay,

Trying to find my way, barter,

I feel all alone, cold, and chilled to the bone,

Space is a sore place, but it’s all I’ve known as a base,

Everything I have, I’ve thrown, I haven’t a thing to loan.

Even touching my own face, as my mind, it starts it’s race.

I’ve always been alone.

In a place I inhabited.

Everything is as cold as stone,

Everything is blasphemous.

Even words spoken so softly

Are thrown at a window to see them crash,

Even something costly,

Ends up in the trash.

So what do I say, to my bad thought?

Do I cower in despair?

Is everything for naught?

For everything is crushed just as a nightmare.

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i want to be more than i am

i want to know where it is that i am going

i want to know how to get there

i want to be who i am without restraint

i want to be brave

i want to be true

i want to be able to hear birds sing and not wonder when they are going to die

i want to know what it’s like to fall into someone’s arms

i want to trust people

i want to know how to tie complicated knots

i want to hear myself breathing

i want to see myself as beautiful

i want to be comfortable and confident

i want to breathe underwater

i want to swim across the ocean and back again just to prove that i am stronger than i look

i want to show the people who think i am nothing that i am more than they could ever imagine

i want to be more than i can imagine

i want to know what would feel like to fly

i want to grow wings

i want to leave my past behind and focus only on what is ahead of me

i want to sit up straight because i know i am worth it

i want to know i am worth it

i want to touch the clouds and not be afraid of falling

i want to prove myself

i want to not want to prove myself

i want to be so much more than i am but what if i never get there

i want to see what’s over that blinding horizon

i want to know why my eyes are fuzzy and grey

i want to see your eyes glow

i want so many things yet i still haven’t told the truth

i want you

and that’s it

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And Stupid.

If we could just drive

Then I’d give you my hand to hold

I’d give you the keys to my soul

And finally learn to trust another with those things.

Admittedly, it’s hard to see

The light at the end of this tunnel

But that might just be because we’re so hell-bent on running away.

Moments filled with “When we get out,” “When we leave,” “When we escape.”

Every second’s shrinking towards the secrets that we make.

Scenes run over in my head

Seven clocks, the third one’s dead

And somewhere, time is growing red

‘Cause the future takes the shape of dread.

But those are just thoughts, I guess.

So maybe I should stop thinking

Or try to forget the things I know

Like the pointlessness of interactions

And how they come and go.

Because you’re here and still, you’re smiling

Even as the sky begins to darken

And the melodies began to swarm us

Carrying words to which we’re forced to hearken.

But we’re slipping in and out of touch, dear

How much longer 'til we’re in the clear?

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