When a
Poet loves you
Run for the hills jump for
The sky but if you sit and listen
Be wowed
When a
Poet loves you
Run for the hills jump for
The sky but if you sit and listen
Be wowed
I wrote a letter to you. I wasn’t sure you got it, that’s true. Not for any technical reason, no, not that. I just had a feeling that when I put the…things on paper, I felt SURE it would disappear, enter the sky as I dropped it into the mailbox, then just dissolve like in water.
But the point is, I didn’t think about what it would be like to read it. I never got that far. I was watching that letter cease to exist.
And that was so cowardly of me! I couldn’t even HOLD ON to those words that meant so much to me that I let them GO in hopes that they would find you.
I killed those words and said it was mourning.
But I got the letter. Now what?
Im following a secret code
Firing the guns
Manning the men
Carving canyons between me and my sisters
Standing at the edge of a
caldera saluting skin with scalding surprises and
ergo, death and rebirth along the
tick tick tick tick
machine making me sick like a magical
rune gone bad, fruit in the sun the
reams of dreams are maps of where
and how and trauma and now
I used to be
and I never again.
I protected my own rapist, “projecting qualities” I “value” on him.
That he was alone and unloved too.
I waited too long
I’m afraid to be alone again.
I’m sick to my stomach.
So I’m searching
Searching for a title and
it’s not going the best because
I’m consuming you
A story I do not know and
I can not name.
I can not name.
I’m full of rage.
Nothing you can do, iTunes…
Don’t even try.
Conquering my world one glass of wine at a time
Visual Artist
survival is triumph enough ~harry crews
Sexuality, Spanking, Spirituality
My attempt to listen to every song I own
Transient Guests We Are
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little bits of words swirling
Becoming the Artist I Want to Be - Fiction, Poetry, and Essays
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”Writing is nothing more than a guided dream” -Jorge Luis Borges