Wind

Even last exhales dissipate in wind; all that was never was. Maybe that is the earth showing us how to grieve. The wind reminds us that what is gone is gone; that we need to let go. The rain washes their blood away; the flow of time will dilute our pain. The ground absorbs their buried bones, teaching us that they must live on in memory; that life is truly intangible.

Your Drug

I am your drug.
Burn me until I fill the hollowest parts of you; the parts of you that cause you to burn me. Exhale me and feel me escape your depths; I'll flow out gracefully as if I was unkept. I'll transform into something so far from what I once was; dissipate in the freedom of a greater world. When I've left, you will carry an intoxication of my energy; a reminder of what you have done to me.

Ocean Water

Sinking softly into the wet sand beneath my feet,
I wait patiently for the next light wave
To bring a rush of cool ocean water over my bare toes.
My knees weaken with intimidation
As I stare out at the never ending ocean
Expanding beyond the wide horizon.
The soft purple light of the sky reflects off the water,
Forcing the sky and ocean to become one.
I stand right in this spot every Sunday.
Sometimes, I think the ocean remembers me,
Holds back its tide as it waits for me
And releases it once I come.
I don't have a purpose when I come here;
I don't walk down the shore or go for a swim.
I just stand and stare,
Pondering and dreaming.



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I Am

I am what I promised myself I would never become,

  A promise made once it had already begun

I am what happens when demons are told to behave,

  Hidden and hungry for the mischief I crave

I am what looks to you like perfectly sane,

  Desperate for a way to stop ignoring the pain

I am what amount of myself I allow you to see,

  Dissolving to become who you want me to be

I am what remains from the destruction of my being,

  Beaten and worn; stripped of all meaning

I am what causes the grasp of death to awaken,

  Offering myself but watching others get taken

I am, paradoxically, what I am not,

  I am nothing

     and so,

  I am what I am taught.

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One

Today, I choose to feel life.

To stand in the rays of sunlight,

And evaporate in its strength.

To step on the dew covered grass,

And be grasped by the soil beneath my weight.

To gaze at each creature roaming among me,

And be connected to each of their spirits.

To fill my lungs until they can contain no more,

And exhale with hopes of fueling new life.

To close my eyes,

extend my arms to the heights of the sky,

And absorb the magnitude of the universe.

My feet may be stuck in an unwanted place,

My mind meandering through the clouds,

My surroundings moving in too fast a pace,

But today,

No matter the perplexity,

The earth and I share no boundaries.

We are one.

I am one.

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Consciousness

They picked me up and threw me down,

I hit the ground without a sound.

And there I stayed, bitterly bound

Until my mind receded all obstruction

Alas, I witnessed a profound introduction

To a state that grabbed me, as if by seduction.

A state of questioning, nothing to conceal.

Maybe it's our fantasies that make life so real,

Or could life be the fantasy, and true pain surreal?

There are those who cling desperately to their sanity,

Could one stimulate such great electricity

For a damaged soul to achieve sublimity?

Imagine the depths of hell echo in absence,

As the devils walk among us in abundance.

Who are the few that bear a sinful conscience?

They had picked me up and thrown me down,

I became reborn, standing much taller now

And in tune to an enlightening sound.

So now I ask of you to expand your vision,

Beyond yourself, biases, even religion

For the earth plays music for those who listen.

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Disconnected

My body is here, my heart has gone
My mind is stable, but can't move on.
The wrong emotion arrives late,
A smile hides a painful hate.
So high up, yet so far under
When it rains it pours; my soundtrack is thunder.

A memory is lost much too quickly,
But a lie takes its place just as swiftly.
Attempting to gain love through false affection,
I leave in a state of empty disconnection.
Guilt buried inside waits for my vulnerability
To crack my broken soul and devour it wickedly.


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Open Minded

I am but a skeleton, 

A misprinted society element.

I lived to the hum of my own melody, 

A disapproved version of achieving ecstasy.

Those around me didn't like that very much,

Made me feel crazy, distant, and such.

Then, one day, I came to find,

I was one of few with such an open mind. 

Pressured with conformity, I remained organic,

Such a rebellion filled them with panic.

So here I lie, a pile of bones

They ripped me to shreds, no trace with their ghost.

No one realized, for they were confined,

Stressing to stay structured, to keep their design.

But in the near future, they all will see,

The one they cold-heartedly killed is with whom they now agree.

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Gone

Cold wind races by me, nearly knocking me over and putting out my cigarette in its path. I reach for my lighter and accidentally skim the edge of my razor. I throw my cigarette onto the frozen ground and look up. I didn't plan on coming here, yet somehow this is where I always end up. The broken down tree house lies in front of me creaking in the wind, its faded green flag torn, its three stories empty. My breathing gets heavier as I stand here, staring. The snow slowly sinks under the weight of my firmly planted feet as I listen to the squirrels running on the branches above me. A few flakes of snow sprinkle down on my thick coat of dark black mascara. Hot tears crawl down my face as I fight the urge to grab the razor. My hand slips into my back pocket and I feel my fist clench around its sharp edges almost uncontrollably. I lift my left arm, wrist facing the grey sky, and remember the reason behind every scar that covers my entire arm. I've waited so long that I feel my hand start to tremble as if the weight of the razor is too much. The clean, sharp edge is cold as it presses against my warm skin. Pressing harder, I can feel my pulse start to race as the coldness of the razor is overtaken by the heat of the deep red blood that bubbles to the surface. Little globes of blood start to drip down my arm and fall like steaming rain.

One drop.
Two drops.
Three, four, five, hit the powdery snow and stain it- a harsh dye against an innocent material.
I continue to press in as my thoughts race and remind me to go deeper. My body starts to tingle as if I had just fed an addiction. The release is euphoric, I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and get absorbed into an alternate dimension. Wind smacks against my bare face, my eyes shoot open, and I'm alive again. My arm goes numb and I stare in a trance at the stream of blood flowing down my arm and collecting in a small, red pool beneath me. My mind goes blank and the deafening silence that hangs in the air becomes strangely apparent. Suddenly, I'm confused as my body turns numb and weightless. My sight blacks out but my mind remains awake. I grab my arm to feel how deep the cut is. The vertical slit stretches all the way up my forearm and is deeper than I've ever ventured before. As I feel myself slip from reality, I can't help but smile that it might actually work this time. At least two minutes pass before I realize that I've been sinking into a freezing bed of snow. I start to lose track of time, it's only been a few minutes but it feels as though I made the cut hours ago. Blood rushes through my body and my paralysis gives me an alarming high. My thoughts start to fade, my body now non-existent.
Even if someone were to find me, it's too late.
I am gone.





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Demons

There are demons inside of me.
They consume my soul,
Destroy my body.
I walk around
As though they do not exist,
Yet the truth remains
No matter how hard I resist.
The darkness germinates in my core,
The roots stretch through my veins,
Each day they grow more.
Through my eyes -
I see shadows,
While cries from Satan's slaves echoe.
Hunting for prey,
Hungry for anything.
I give them myself,
My hollow body means nothing.
As the pain builds inside me, I need a release
I fold myself to fit,
But can't bend to a perfect crease.
So I cut,
And I cut,
Again and again
Your body is a canvas,
But it's not ink in my pen.

 
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Lost

As I strolled down to my dead-end forest for one of the last probable times I would enjoy the escape, I stumbled by many horrid sights. Fitting the mood of this glum, grey, Saturday afternoon, I walked along the outskirts of my forest observing the saddening sight of what over the years had gone from beautiful nature to overpopulated, 'evolutionary' pollution. Everything on this day seemed to be too still, for even the few snowflakes that were released from above drifted down far slower than usual. Soon enough, I sought upon the sight of a baby fox, lying dead in the frozen grass, its mother licking the poor creature in mourning, prayers of its' child's return to the world. Once noticing a humans' presence standing upon the scene in silence, the mother ran away in fear.
Staring at this breathtaking nature sighting, I saw myself. Lying lifeless in a coffin during a very proper Christian funeral, I am dressed like a school girl on church Sunday. An image of my father, I am an atheist with strong beliefs, yet I lie trapped in a holy church. My tender family speaks as robots, repeating the priests blessings to my dead soul, unknowingly at the fact that God will have no impact on my sold soul. They stare at a closed casket, hiding the gruesome display of blood I had spilled upon myself as the tainted clock ticked the time aloud during the moments of my last exhales. From the church, my family precedes mechanically to the burial sight. As my coffin is lowered slowly to the hums of the priests' last preaches, my mother takes a step forward, shaky contrarily to that of the mother foxes melancholy steps around her helpless child. She approaches my coffin carrying the first of many roses to be placed on the top of my descending dead body. As she steps backward to leave the sight of her daughter disappearing, a small tear rolls from her unforgiving, guilty eyes and lands silently on the petal of the pure white rose. She waits a bit longer as if knowing what will happen next. The rose transforms almost instantly to a withered crisp, its black, charred petals surrounding its discolored stem.
A rain starts pouring from the skies, as Jesus cried from above trying to heal what has already run too far into the distance. For all that has been lost is never truly lost, but I am one who will never be found.





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