Jun 30

Deliver Her Unto Me

Fields of stone angels,
depictions of divine sorrow,
stained with wetness,
cracked and crumbling,
aged terribly and unkept,
shake beneath my hand
and weep into grave soil.
She went too soon.
She was just a child.
She peers into the broken glass
and her reflection is empty.
Deliver her unto me.
She was just a child.
Stripped of her rosy complexion,
she swallows decay,
catches it on her tongue
the way she caught winter flakes.
Her once curiously large eyes
now sink deep into her skull.
Flowers wilt and are replaced
as the years pass her by.
She was just a child.
Her flowers are wilted
and as the grey skies
of an oncoming winter
dust her with the first snow,
no one will replace them.
Deliver her unto me.
She was just a child.
May 11

Who The Hell Told You That?

People can change.
People can initiate change.
Who says they can't?
The world can change.
The world must change.
Who says it can't?
We're not incapable.
We are more than capable.
Who says we're hopeless?
I'm not a tragedy.
I'm not an experiment.
Who says that I am?
You're not dreaming.
You're just not here.
Who says that you are?
They don't know.
They don't have to.
Who says they do?

Now, who the hell told you that?
Apr 30

Infernal Dame

Love is a flame carried inside,
a flame that I cannot hide,
a spark that could start an infernal war,
and with you, Angel, I carry this flame.

I do not wish to burn alone
for I am but flesh and bone,
but together, we are so much more.
To be apart would be a shame.

We entangle together but are never confused.
My veins fill with passion and I am unbruised,
but desire is destruction, so tear my core.
Engulf me, my eternal, infernal dame.

The angels of Heaven cannot compare
to my love with a heart and tongue so fair.
It treads my wastelands, rewrites my lore,
and the fires of Hell were ever so tame
until you, mon autre moitié, came.
Mar 04

What Are You Thinking About?

Feb 13

Spirit Mother

If you dig your fingers into the soil,
feel the cold and damp Earth,
you can grasp onto Her hand.
If you bend with the great oaks,
hearken ye their wind song,
you can paint Her vast sky.
If you crumble with the harvest leaves,
carry the weight of your sisters,
She will carry you as you fall.
If you soak in the hot summer sun,
let it comfort your spirit,
Her love will shine through.
If you dig, bend, crumble, and soak,
then She will mother you.
Jan 29

Playing the part

At night, I’m terrified of falling asleep
because I don’t know what horrors are inside.
I may be young, but I can understand them.
I dress in dark colors and wear chains and chokers.
I feel so small in such an enormous universe.
I want to play the part of a human being,
but I also want to become the goddess of the stars.

I’m in love with the rain as it cools on my skin,
the petrichor that follows, and the returning sun,
but my heart spins like a weathervane in a storm.
My mind is a chaotic clatter of voices and sounds.
I am the commander of a thousand soldiers.
I am the brittle stem that carries the dead leaf.
My elegant and long fingers were created to create.
My tongue was pierced and your heart, it will pierce.

I pinch my cheeks so that they may smile wider,
but I am not always happy. I cry so I may cry again.
I am the drawings and writing on painted walls.

Jan 03

Shadows Through The Veil

They’re peeking from behind the great grey pines. Their trunks seem as though they’re tall enough to reach to High Heaven. I see them in my dreams. When I close my eyes, they peer at me with their large spotlights. They move gracefully and quietly. They’re shadows, but they feed on me. The longer I stare, the closer they are. There are no birds in this place of silence, only a soft thumping. Foliage scatters across the forest floor, but there is nothing but death. Death, he who lurks at me, he who cannot be seen the way I see the shadows, crumbles beneath my bare feet as I walk through the veil between what is and what is not. A vibration tickles my body. It pulses like a heartbeat and paralyzes me. The further I walk, the harder it is to move. The harder it is to move, the closer I am to its source. The closer its source, the less I am. Whispers reverberate off of rough bark and return to me.

Dec 05

Constellation Kaleidoscope

The world is a kaleidoscope
and I'm peering through
with one squinted eye.
I hold it tightly
with just one hand
and I see stars.

All I see are stars
and they form a kaleidoscope.
They're right in my hand,
but they're slipping through.
I grasp on tightly,
but they've escaped my eye.

I've blinded my one eye.
I no longer see stars.
I keep holding on tightly,
but this endless kaleidoscope
is not what is seen through,
but what is held in my hand.

In the palm of my hand
is the bluest stray eye
which gazes right through
this constellation of stars.
Beauty in this kaleidoscope
is rarely held onto tightly

and in my heart, tightly
it holds a place. Her hand
takes apart this kaleidoscope
and captures my eye
which cannot see the stars.
Her love pierces through.

All that is seen through,
Dec 04


His hands straighten out the curling edges
and he folds it carefully in half,
then into fourths.
His fingers move, touching and pressing
and he pushes on the creases,
avoiding the points.
I sit with my legs crossed and watch
as his eyes focus downward,
dilated and fixed.
My hands fold across my lap and rest
as his move and work diligently,
cautiously pinching.
My fingers intertwine together –warm,
and my heart is thumping,
thrusting about.
​My blood rises and I forget to breathe
as he makes another fold
and flips it over.
My chest hitches and my face is hot
as I try not to look at him,
but I risk a glance.
He leans forward, his shoulders tense
and I see he’s anxious
as he presses.
My shoulders grow stiff, my palms sweat,
and I don’t want to go,
but I get in the car.
His voice is soft and it trembles a little
as he says the words
Nov 15

Somewhere Else

She's always somewhere else.
She doesn't want to stay put.
She wants to go outside.
She wants to go explore.
The world is hers,
and she's claiming it.
The world is there,
not tucked up in here.
She's always somewhere else.
She doesn't want to rest.
She wants to go skating.
She wants to go dancing.
The world is hers,
and she's claiming it.
The world is there,
not tucked up in here.
She's always somewhere else.