21Spiraling to bonesthis carnival ridealways brings meback to this place.Look at the invisibleup there riding starsthe smoke carried you away.The body doesn't knowthe mind has put stonesin pockets and walked to water.Here is a shellgood for nothing.Put it on a bookcaseor throw it away.
20All the voices; the people,the sea, that's what they are.Buzzing, churning.A vein opening, they seep and slither.This static cold after the wash of warmth.Quickly forgotten, days of nothing.Glass eyes and skin of wax,sickly sweet the rotted flowers.Lips sewn shut; no one listened anyway.
19Darkness bids them sleepleaving the roads for myselfto move in quiet.The light brings them forthI wrap myself in shadowhiding what I am.I wait with patiencefor a time when the darknesswill never retreat.
18Here is the truth written plain:While you are asleep I lay awake beside you.I listen to your breathing to know that you are alive. Let me go first.Here is the truth written plain:I don't believe in the supernatural but I have made you my god.You are the reason I stay when I could easily go. This world is not for me.Here is the truth written plain:I'm not much at all and I know it full wellBut I feel the arms of Death and I haven't felt Life in years. You can do no wrong.
I've lost time.I've lost time. I have no idea where I misplaced it. Maybe there was a hole in one of my pockets that day and it fell out while I was busy dreaming of the future or dwelling in the past.I didn't even notice I had lost it until one day I looked for it and found a calendar of nothing. I even walked all the way through the forest of memory to the station at the very end and I asked the old man with the pocket-watch if he could look through the lost and found. He told me it was gone forever but he gave me a ticket to board the steam engine so I wouldn't have to walk back in the rain.On the way back I watched the shadows of my life through the foggy window. I should have just walked in the damn rain.
17It's because,His name was her nameAnd her name was his name.It's because,Two rivers emptied into the same basinAnd can you tell the waters apart?It's because,You can't take one, leaving the otherAnd expect the other not to follow the one.That's why,She carried the embers into the houseAnd didn't wake up again.
16The moon renders a highwayAs the trees paint the spectre,You sit with a stillness — unnatural;You listen for the twigs to snap.My pulse is a bird strainingAgainst a cage of flesh.
Watch Me Persevere [contest submission]When an ocean of sadness threatened to drown herAnd she really thought it would have been easierTo just sink into the deep, she gave herself theChance to swim. Even though she was tired, sheHeaded towards the shore.Making footprints in the sand, she wondered if this was far enough.Even though she was still tired, she decided to go on.Pacing herself, she moved through the years,Eventually learning that each step was a triumph. She found that herReservoir of strength was much deeper than the ocean -Stretched further than the shore.Every step brought her closer to herself, to theVery essence of her humanity.Even though her journey is not complete, sheRests now, knowing that she isEverything she needs.
15Roads everywhere, serpents sprawling,Endlessly beckoning. We must not beStagnant; ripple, flow, move.Take up the luggage orLeave it to rot.Echo theSettingSun.TravelOnwardTowards theHouse of sediment -Endless blankets of restEmbrace you then. There isNo need to fear a wrong turn, theDestination is the same, no matter the road.
We all are beautiful!We all are beautiful!The problem is on our eyes!
Authorshipyou’re the authorof this story - and yetinsist on playingthe role of a foilwhen you couldrewrite the pagesas you wish.
DownfallAnd in this dark harvest of seasonMy life has completely lost reason,For which or against to decide.All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tideIn sadness and in kindnessIn light and in darkness.In a boat made of hopeI shall sail to tomorrow,In a winding hurricaneMade of treachery and sorrow.There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...Piercing, slashing though my head.Starting somewhere in heaven,Ending somewhere in hell.Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.Are the armies within.In my head they are all thrashing.On the heaven's and hell's whim.To be light or to be darkness.A perpetual array.It's not merely my choice,But the choice of the way.It's an option of the voice,It's a thin line of gray.Is it a choice forced by fate,Is it a pre-set time and date?Or a choice to which I myself sway?But here's our story anyway
."Nothing that I do will matter.As all things will merely shatter!"All my hopes thus darkness scatter,As it shoves me a decree.As it si
spaceshiptwoWhat's leftafter the explosionare these suns,a faint projectionfrom an unreachable darkness,flickering.And then everything is simultaneous;the entangled mess,the crowds.*And maybe it's all about editing and being edited-The pilot painted across a desert,A desert painted across the pilot.*Or the holographic drift, a surface reflection-The expanse outside echoed inward,Jagged orange treelines over the firefly black like someone holding onto a woman(or the memory of a woman).*Or maybe just the T.V. relayas I struggle to sleep,the newscasterfrom both dimensionsglowing and whispering:The horses of your apocalypse/the apocalypse of your horses.
glass in the throatthere's something about thathollow quiet in the nightthat bite of airbeneath the clouded moon:something like calm words,falling through the gapsbetween stained teethsomething like a dull thud,a stumbling fawnbruised by a wheel.something about thatclinging crowding darknesssomething likea sweet invitation:prey on us sinners,now,at the hour of our death.
All Hallows EveThey say that on this night the witches ride,that spirits walk and churchyards spew their dead. It isn’t true. It’s said the stench of hell infects the earthand healths of heated blood are downed. But Hamlet lied. The dead know nothing, the living less. There are only poets with blood-nibbed pens;souls hung between high heaven and deep hell.
Fixing the damageYou feel damagedAnd brokenJust like meBut togetherWe can change thatWe can fix each otherSo don't give upWe need each other
shearing sheepcrouching in the bathtub,knees-to-chin;a humming begins.above me, myparents dance -even harry potterwould say mybathroom is small.they fuss overmissed spots.dropped pronounbombs roll overmy feet.(i slip in a whiteflag reminder duringconversational lags.)ten minuteslater i amnaked and cursing,plucking piecesof who i used to befrom the drain.
AloneI look aroundI see peopleYet I'm aloneAlways.
9Ashes raining downlabor pains of earthbirthing only bonesee the seed of hate.Watch her as she heaveslisten to her screamdo not turn awaysee what we have made.