Visiting HoursThe orange jumpsuit really didn't suit her complexion. But, then, they're not exactly intended to be fashion statements. The slow steps with which she moved, her lank hair and sunken cheeks weren't her either.I frowned as she took a seat across from me, "What were you thinking?" I tried to sound curious instead of judgmental.I needn't have tried. She simply lifted a shoulder listlessly, dismissing my question. "Nothing, really."Her appearance already had me so shaken, her attitude disturbed me even more, "Then why?"She lifted her eyes to meet mine, and there was such pain in their blue gray depths, so much strain that had pushed her to the breaking point, I had to look away. Shame that I hadn't seen her pain sooner filled me. Could I have helped? I had no way of knowing, but I wished I'd been able to try.Her quiet voice emphasized the hopelessness of her response, "What's it matter?"
Days 15 and 16Day 15Didn'tBroken windowIncriminating batGuilty lookAnd grass stained clothesYou glare and you yellGoing on aboutResponsibilityPlaying where stuffWon't get brokenBut, I said beforeAnd I'll say again,I DIDN'T DO IT!Day 16Stay A WhileAlways before, when I was afraid orMelancholy, you would hold my hand.I knew everything would be alright.Danger couldn't touch me, IRemember. And I rememberEverything stoppedAnd I forgot to breathe, hearing you wereMortal, like me. And you were gone.I sense your comforting presence,Nestled in your arms, everything'sGoing to be alright.
Thanks, LadyWelcome glimpsesIn the spring,Lakes of colorsDancing on the roadsideFlowing in the breeze.Lady Bird Johnson's legacyOffers this treat,Welcoming to our gazeEvery year,Returning for a distressinglyShort, but beautiful time.
Broken VowDaring the fates,Only you would make such a promiseNever one to fear what may lie ahead"There is nothing that will take me away."Gone now, despite your vow,Oblivion has taken you.
In the ShadowsWhere you fear the dark,I find it a lark.When your eyes cannot see,You will try hard to flee.Your desp'rate flight will be short,I will have the last retort.
NaPoWriMo Catch upReach (Day 9)Grand goalsTerrifyingly out of reach,Causing a paralyticLack of action.Break it down,Bit by bitIt can be done.Opinion (Day 10)Poison dribbleStaining the airOr inspirational blessingsIlluminating the dark.It could be eitherOr anything in between All dependingOn yourOpinion.Poison(Day 11>The snakeHissing into the earVenom drippingInto the brainDissolving synapsesUntil the mindIs the shapeThe whispererDesires.
rootslike drowned men who have lost theirclothes and faces, they lay suspendedfacing the sun and grinning withouteyes through the ripples of the water.those passing by wonder how they got here,these homeless men without fingers or toeslong spindly stumps twisting into lost roots:reaching to the east, to the south,to the homes they have forgotten.
Cosmic SymphonyThe notes build up deep within youburning at your coresnaking through your veins until your skin hums red-hot with fire.They say the sun is hottestwhen you are just barely out of reach.It is there you shall ignite.But if I managedto slip past your blistering coronapast the halo of light that surrounds you -and stroke your scorching surfacewould I find the rightto burn with you?And maybeI could learn to play youlike the instrument you are.Helios, god of the sun,your surface shudders with sound,melodious vibrationsunfit for such ears as mine.Yet still I wonder what you would sound likeif my hands would not
GarryxReader .:Together Forever:.For as long as you could remember, you have always worked at a very pleasant, and nice art gallery. Yet,at the same time, it seemed a bit....off. You would work late, and the pictures seemed to...move. Writing on the walls. Some pictures being blank. You blamed it on your sleepiness, and seeing things,but every time you mentioned it to your friend Garry, he seemed to dwell on it a second,then change the subject.You were a bit annoyed with this,yes, because you knew he was in the gallery, in 'another world' with a girl named Ib. You couldn't help but think she was a bit more special than you, since you have had a crush on Garry since you first met him. You manage to stutter around him when he was to close, or when he hugged you."Are you ok ______?" He would ask, curiously staring at your reddened face.You manage to squeak out an "I-I'm fine!" and walk off quickly after that.But today,today you were going to tell him you liked him.You had to,since your friends were pressuring you in
fox firessome say the northern lights are dancing maidens or torcheslit by the honoured dead, or charged particlescolliding with atoms in what could be the mostbeautiful lovers' dispute known to man, sun, sea, flora andfauna. some tongues whisper that a magical fox is sweeping his greattail across the snow, spraying it up in to the sky.the fires of a fox could be myth, legend, anything, but even soif you're wandering around in december and see red foxes scamperingthrough sleet, wish that they'd sweep it up into the cosmosand craft you a perfect lovesong.when the winds are roaring outside and the rains are knocking at my windowi'll think of winters gone and winters to come like any half-sleepy soul atfourteen minutes past three,spewing stories from chapped lips in frosty breath, fidgeting uncomfortably inleather jackets, hair crusty with sky-fallen crystalsor pink-nosed children excitedly breathing out,fingers to their mouths, pretending they wereexhaling cigarettes and carcinog
Retraction of ChlorophyllLonger nights, and shorter days,Sinking towards the horizon,the sun stretches itself againstpulsating veins retractingfrom margins to petioleto stems unmasking green from orange to gold, to vermilion
I. peel apart my insides reveal the insidespetal by petal I fall apart in your hands
Bisexual PrideYes I am biNo it does not matterEvery person is as good as the latterI love differentlyYet I think the sameMany may say it but I am not insaneIt's not a phaseor a lust for sexIt is me on the inside being myself
Exhale, AmaryllisMid-summer heatwave,I push through humid air,like dreams of swimming, graceful,through the streets. Chest aching, Iinhale heavy, tangible airthick with scent of summer's bounty.Honeysuckle vines tangle in my lungs, perfume my breath.My sighs exhale nectarpast my lips;words glint in sunlight.Berry brambles twist into my veins,thorns prick for blood from inside-out;honey-suckle oxidized breath,painting white blossoms red:My heart was a pure-white bloom once,but I inhaled arrows of golden sunlightand bled forth Amaryllis.
WakiyaYour wing beats are folding clouds;wire-wrapping feathers into coats[and Ill be]peeling back weather-worn layers,only to watch you fall.When your dented beakfinally floated to the groundIt sent shockwaves of despair,and I named you She Sings To The SkyBecause youd always squawk about thunderand how you missed it.But mostly because you sang me liesabout a love you never had.You were just a kid when I laidout purples and pinks among the leavestrying to ensnare you from the sky.I was scared of you, onceonly because every time those blackenedeyelashes fluttered I saw your lightninghop over rain droplets to stay dry.
Bright ShadowBright shadow,Edged in goldAnd green.The entire cycleIn one simple view.