Hasn’t happened yet

He walks through the door,
He brought the sketch;
Crinkled paper in sweaty palms.
The bell jingles as he enters,
The buzz like a soft whine;
He stares in your eyes-
“Make it good,” he says,
Make it bleed, he thinks.

You shrug, he nods,
He doesn’t even know where to put it;
How could he pack in 12 years of pain
Into one simple ink blot?

He can explain it all,
The elements and what they stand for:
The flames, the ice picks, the daggers,
The blood, the pitchfork,
The black heart, the devil wings,
A final halo…

Salt slick skin on his upper lip,
He didn’t know what to expect
Pain in spades and hinted regrets;
Adding art, subtracting perfection;
He’s a fuck up anyway, gotta own that shit
He is who he is.

And color cancels pigmentation
The final asphyxiation
Turns purple into blue,
And white into black.
Tell him, seraphim,
What light do you have to shine
On this dark, foreboding day?
Useless sour kisses and lemon juice tears.

Blinking his eyes open to a new day,
Ignoring the crumpled paper
Clenched in his fist like an unfinished prayer;
Does it monument his past
Or his future? He stares in the mirror
Of false accusation, or is it a condemnation?
But, then again, it’s all the same
Yesterday is today tomorrow…


Not a Dot but a Semicolon

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
Screaming silently like I’d never choke,
You took away more than my hope;
More like my sanity, till all that remained of me
Were shadows and echoes of what I used to be…

Sticks and stones break my bones,
But your words broke more than my soul;
Poisoning the well of my love, I was watered only by
The absence of yours -surrounded by your betrayals and lies.

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
A demon’s child you wished to destroy
Isolation became my only ploy
For peace, and yet your words rained like fists
To crush what little light remained in the shrouded mists;

The hot kiss of pain chased with throbbing hurt,
Why couldn’t you just leave me for dead? Burial dirt
Is kinder than placing your cruelty into my ribcage
To join old wounds rusted into blades planted by your rage.

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
To a moment when I wept ‘no more, no more’,
And weighted my options to seal the door;
There was no raven to quote evermore
Only rain, trees, and a slip knotted tour.

There was no magical light to show the way,
Just black and a thousand gradients of gray;
Tinged with blood, shame, blame, pain only the inhumane
Could carry. A burden carried by the broken and insane.

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
Suckered in by angels I thought would save me,
No such thing, I learned the hard way that nothing is what it seems;
Now every move that I make
Is tinged with doubt, for god’s sake!
Why can’t I kill you? That insidious voice in my head
Echoing every word that you ever said;
With fear and dread, ‘is it worth it?’ I ask the mirror every day;
And why does my reflection never have anything to say?

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
It’s all a power struggle and I refuse to lose,
Not a game or a puzzle, this isn’t even what I would choose;
Inheriting this strife in a broken world filled with danger,
Buck up, little one, you’ve got to be your own lost savior.
And why should I decide to let anyone in? Solitude is my fortress,
Ice is my armor, blades cannot pierce my iron core -hit and miss
I might be smiling, but that doesn’t mean that I am alive
Shell-shocked refugees can only survive. 

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
A coward dies a thousand times, a victim dies every second
Of every day, not just battling aggressors or self, but the allure beckoned
By death. Messages on dead trees flutter away, words like “I’m sorry”,
“I can’t do this anymore”, “I just want it to stop”, stapled to their quarry;
And the few that survive, never escape
Pain-raked souls glued with duct tape;
Then super glue, then gummed adhesive
That could never keep their lives cohesive.

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
Emerging from the shadow of death,
I still can’t breathe, can’t catch my breath;
ANGER seals my shell-shocked heart,
Enclosing the soft with an armor of darts;
A broadsword of sensitivity, attacking preemptively
Sphere of distance, walled protection, guarded attentively
Sworn to protection, the allegiance became a prison
And I was serving ten to life, chained without vision. 

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
And now I know better, it wasn’t just breath, but life
That you stole from me. Joy, innocence, all harvested by your scythe;
Now I am the one who destroys, tainting all that I touch
With the memories of pain. And the fear lingers, like a crutch
I can’t release. Echoes of torment through hollow memories
The light of day forever shrouded by historic enemies;
I am the harbinger, I bring my pain wrapped around me like cellophane,
Tissue paper wrapped, shredded and ripped, piled around the windowpane.

My Breath ISN’T play…
When You took my breath away,
You killed something precious that I’ll never own
There is nothing you can do to atone
It’s like I was punished instead, I bear the scars
You remain untouched -no one said life was fair, just marred
I’ll never move on, just trying to move
up and rebuild a better self
Every day is a battle, I don’t get my day, just a shelf
Of monuments. And this semicolon is mine to document
A journey of recovery and strength, forgiveness not violence.

I breathe deeply…
Tormenter, you will never have me;
I will have my future of possibility. You may steal my breath, but
You’ll never get the rest of my life. Day by day I leave this rut
Support groups build me up, and I’m so much stronger today
Reborn into a warrior, not a victim, and I shine on, a vibrant sunray.

I continue to breathe deeply…
You’ll never take my life away;

This poem is possible thanks to Morgan Campbell’s afterword in her book “Grayson: A Bully Novel” which resonated to inspired my poem.

“The goal …is to restore hope and confidence in people who are troubled by addiction, depression, self-harm, and suicide… The semicolon symbolizes that the difficulties they face are not the end but a new beginning… By encouraging people to share their marks and stories, Project Semicolon seeks to instill hope and open up a dialogue about mental health.” – Davey Hoen

Project Semicolon’s website  (IE browser recommended).


Like black and white, it always seems so clear
You standing there, dictating right and wrong
Truth and lies, without hesitation or fear
Of being incorrect, taking context with prayer and a song
Pointing in accusation, pinning the points that agree
See, see?! they scream, cutting and pasting a messiah
Then later erasing all the good and all that I see
Will be tainted in the light of your paranoia.


Elicit my Response

via Daily Prompt: Elicit

I knew you only wanted a reaction.
A farce to play on just such a day
Pushing beyond unnecessary
I watch the brat’s display.

Why do all the children linger past their prime?
Why are you even still alive?
Age is not an indication of maturity
Tantrums at sixty-five.

Have I really never left the old playground?
I am a bit too past the games.
The wisdom of the ages never
Touched your pathetic frame.

You expect the same unrestraint from others
That you often love to demonstrate
Never will I stoop to your level
You fucking reprobate.

You fancy that the world is small enough that
You own -and rule- the fucking roost.
Drunk on your invincibility
Your ego needs the boost?

I don’t care to speculate -interrogate
Or even give a fuck ’bout you
Life is too short and I won’t waste time
You’re a virus -I’m immune.

I know you’ll fall and drown everyone you can
Your reign is coming to an end.
I don’t care to see or ever gloat
Insignificant trend.

You’re not worth my pity, you’re not worth my time
Own your failure and sink alone.
You are nothing and no one to me
I have hung up the phone.

Fear Mongering

To succumb to fear
Is to fall victim to the oldest weapon
That brought every mighty empire to its knees.
Swords brought low
Strength crumbles away
Panic and chaos roam the streets.
Fright and flight on everyone’s lips
We succumb to cowardice.

Snap. Out. Of. It.

Life goes on.
Children are born.
Flowers bloom and die and bloom again.

Your mind would build prisons
Out of castles.
And destruction
From rebirth.
Change comes and goes.
Will you make a change
Or submerge -lost- to your fear?

I Borrowed Your Pain

I borrowed your pain
Quite unconsciously
And I do want to give back these holes
Because I forgot how much it rips my soul

The restless nights
The gulping and swallowed
Screams and reams of pain
That cannot keep these bones sane.

I didn’t protect myself
And I was left unprotected and
Vulnerable to your agony and hope
And now I’m the one trying to cope.

The typical expression
Of rough words and tones
I cannot retrieve, and I lied
To say I wasn’t confused and lost and dying inside.

The physical manifestation
Of this pain would be a relief
I know it, I dreamt it, I am it
And I must continue to deny myself against it.

I miss it, I hate it
I wallowed in an old and familiar
Sensation of loss and disturbance
I don’t even ask, I just accept it’s my comeuppance.

I suppose you’d say
It’s harmful and unhealthy
I don’t know, as much as I hate
It, it’s an addiction I miss and can’t shake.

As real as this is to me
You are not actually real;
I borrow your words and world
To manifest your agony in my soul unfurled.

It’s crazy, it’s insane
It’s addicting, I love
To hate, always miss
To avoid the awful return of this cursed kiss.

Empathy, don’t you know
This doesn’t exist
Your pain isn’t real and that this
Is just a book? -Work of fictitious.

You are a fiction to me
You don’t exist in my world
And yet, I suck it all in; the fey
Dark, an unnatural case of death and decay.

Crave, my ugly
Addiction in my brain,
This sadistic line tortured
To squeeze the faucet of emotion nurtured.

I will extinguish this sensation
And ruminate on your words
Ringing false and plain
After extracting  your pleasure from my pain.

Starving 4 Touch

This world is like prison
A prison for the senses
We can see, but not approach
Hear, but not engage
Taste, but not prepare
Smell, but not track

All 4 senses are given full range
I can view the world around me
Hear the buzz of life, or the whispers
Of noise-canceling headphones

Continue reading Starving 4 Touch

The moment you become nothing you can be anything.

It’s like I could open my mouth and drink it.

Bullet casings, flowing into my mouth. Swallow.

Swallows. Against birds of prey never had a chance.

Draw my scabbard from my spine to pierce the eye of the scorpions

The wings of Adonis

Flight of a thousand sword slices

Cluster around the bleeding spring

The training was too specific.

AK rolls 47 times in its grave