I want my face resting restless against your clavicle

I want to feel your breath leave slow and shallow at the edges of sleep

I want your hand resting restless on my hip and our fingers curled around each other

I want sleep to come upon me, intoxicating

I want sleep to smother me in you

I want sleep to wrap us both, calm

I want your frame to swallow my restless restlessness and wake with you by my side

some days im the only one in my mind.

alone in a way i never am usually.

people think the madness comes from my friends,

the others inside me, inside my head, inside my mind, inside my stories.

but it comes from the times when all those people are scared away by society

and i am left to wonder

who am i without them?

who am i without seven other versions of me waiting to come out?

who am i when im on my own?

some days im the only one in my mind.

and on those days, run from me.

without my others to lean on, i never know what i might do.

i could kiss you, i could beat you half to death, and i wont remember it in the morning.

mad always has two meanings.

rage and crazy.

but for me the two arent all that seperate.

i sometimes dream about violent things.

but among my friends, im the only one,

and killing makes you a monster, no matter what the reason.

....right?

sometimes i dont know who i am.

sometimes thats a good thing,

because whatever lurks under my skin,

i dont want to meet it.

id rather hide behind an alternate version of me, one with a semblance of sanity,

than let loose the monster of identity.

mirror shatters

into thousand pieces

of my perfection,

tread on me

bare feet

let each piece

cut deep into your skin

i’ll taste your pain

and drink myself

into a stupor

on your bad blood.

trip on my worth

fall on your knees

take a better look

at my high standing

from where you

crawl your ground

in agony and

lose your grip

on my vanity.

open your eyes,

self-righteousness

never blind me

even in the brightest truth

and the darkest side of me

i still can see

that your low quality

and inferiority

are the triggers

to an extension

of my dark,

you can never see

that i’m right.

flawless sinner, fucking peasant.

Pic: ©Fabrizio Ara

Sweet jasmine’s scent tickles my nose

Sun’s rays caress and pink cheeks

Fresh lavender’s fragrance flows

Coral poppies sway; lotus peeks

Spring breaks the winter chill’s back

Emerging from dismal, cold weeks

Gone are the trees, once with lack

Spring imbues life as she speaks

Flora, awakened; immortal

Baptized in the snow melt and rain

Cascading the canyons; creeks babble

With the birds of song; Spring’s refrain

Mountainsides splashed and adorned

Pastel hues poured, here and there

My heart once impatient; forlorned

Rejoices that Spring’s in the air

As my mind reminisces and ponders

The beauty and true miracle

When nature and seasons, asunder

Resurrect unto life, tangible

Photo Credit: Betty Hall Photography

How do I describe

In seventeen syllables

One who defines me?

#haiku describe love challenge

Tincture: pain and suffering

Steeped in soul's deep waters

Seeping leaves whose fragrance yields

Reminders for the latter

Drink of sorrow’s bitterness

Tinged, once it imbues

Impressing on my senses

Pain’s taste and residue

Searing in my memory

The why, I’m suffering

So when I near the trigger ’gain

I fear that which it brings

Six.

A scream and a crash. Something wasn’t right. The pitch was higher than normal, filled with more fear than anger, and the silence that followed was a nightmare in and of itself.

Six.

She held her eyes tight. If she just kept her eyes closed she couldn’t see. If she couldn’t see then nothing would happen. And naturally, if nothing happened then she couldn’t relive it in her sleep later.

Six.

Glass broke. Her delicate fingers curled into small, fretful fists. More screams. And then the crying in her closet. She squeezed her eyes just a bit tighter to hold back the burning salt water before opening them.

Six.

Her tiny irises slowly focused on the gentle light pouring from the shelf over her bed. A miniature castle all softly lit, light streaming through the rose window panes. Her whole room blushing in the night as it watched her dream.

Six.

Her gaze hung in the sparkling castle windows. If she slept in that castle, it would probably be quiet. Like the world had breathed in and would hold it until the morning. She’d fall to sleep to dream with a rose flush covering her and the walls, and wake to the pale yellow of the sun bathing her in daybreak. And as her eyes opened the world would exhale and she’d take in her first morning breaths.

Six.

Volume poured in from the room down the hall and the crying in the closet picked back up. A heavy sigh and dainty footsteps carried her to the small voice.

Six.

She held onto the petite hands and smiled. Her finger drug gently across the bridge of the nose and her mouth shushed and hushed. The tears slowed and the breathing calmed. And as the storm slowly seemed to quell and pass, the tiny faces began to rest.

Six.

Wood split. Screams echoed through their dreams. Booming, foreign voices tearing into the night. And she woke with a start. And she must see what calamity exploded just past her almost closed door.

Six.

Mama?

Six.

And he sat. Tears streaming. Feet planted squarely on the carpet to the side of the bed. Glittering puddles of glass strewn across the floor. Clothes hung from the drawers in front of him, tangled around each other from being dug through in haste. The tv box playing static, and the lighting low.

Six.

And all around were the men in black. Bright lights held at their waists. Slow, deep voices dangling in the air where there should be the steady, quiet breathing of sleep.

Six.

Mama?!

Six.

And the tears pinched at her eyes. And her voice hung up somewhere in her throbbing chest.

Six.

Six.

No, baby! Go back to your room! Take your sister back, baby! It’s not safe!

Six.

Six.

Six.

Six.

Six.

And with his eyes vacant and staring, he sat. Feet planted squarely on the carpet to the side of the bed. And his hand rested on cold metal, held as tightly as a lifeline, pushing deep into his temple.

Six.

Six.

Six.

Six.

Six.

Six.

And that’s when the dreams ceased and the nightmares became unending.