i see the dark in the actions 

you see the light in the words

seeing the perspective of an angel

isn’t as i hoped

i’m without an army

at the base of the war

that is humanity

when i thought i’d have my comrad 

by me 

but they’re discouraged by the rage

it brings

and the view of the cliff top

instead of the ever glowing treetop

they fortunately see

will the sun

ever set


this is new

her eyes dance like rain 

hitting puddles,

and moonlight

casting its marvel

along the dimly lit footpath

that suddenly 

illuminates beyond what i’ve come to know 

with secrets of my mind and heart

speckled on the concrete

i am no longer walking alone

even when

i am walking alone


when my heart hurts

the lying of your lips on my neck

are in space

where i feel no gravity 

towards you

you tell me you plan to be

an entirely other self

roaming elsewhere

for a night

i don’t know that person

and i never intended to meet them

you escape presence

of yours and mine 

something i thought we agreed

we never wanted –

who knew

we are escapable 

don’t cry

don’t cry if you knew me 

and i am no longer

you would have made your mark

on me somewhere 

that’s all we do

remember the marks i meant to make

the ones i could control 

i had so many chapters

reread them

and find my mind in the letters

my smile in the ink

don’t cry 

but also, please, don’t forget

cover me

drowning in your silence 

guessing the stories of your scars, lines and crinkles

you’ve settled in

with the forgotten girl

who pads quietly on her own –

stretches a thought thin

and rounds it off with worry

it can’t be good

that she’s made room for one more

in case the chair is left empty

and acts as but a reminder –

the forgotten girl never forgets 


wade through my wary

dry off when I turn around

touch the parts where

I don’t whimper

you’ll find it between

nowhere and no one –

see into the back of me

where the shadows loom

and the creatures don’t stay long

& linger longer

because you may find part

of me that can be felt

with no sound leaving

my lips

speculate and spit

we talk and talk

but we say nothing

of value

we speculate and spit

saturating the sanctity

of freewill and choice to live purely,


yet we think we were at some point

given the ability to say

when it is Judgment Day,

scarring and tarnishing,

scratching and acid washing,

the person who dares

be different



the satin sound of the deep trombone

vibrates through my mind

low and rumbling

interrupting the melody

and beat of the happy beeps

and bops

reverberating inside the small room

round and around

i see why they call it the blues


sometimes i wish i could welcome

someone else into my brain

tell me

is it reminiscent of theirs

is my rationale 

lying outside the boundaries of reason 

or is this the view commoners plod

along with 

as i learn more

i forage for hope and sense 

in pits of dust

and come out dusty


sit on the edge of my cynasism and

watch me disintegrate

i had intent that was underestimated 

but showmanship that could fool a fool 

the tidal wreckage on my sandy surface

is harrowing and hollowing 

you’ll see me be nothing left