Alabama,

because Chris didn't elaborate

         falsely.

Gosh, he's

incompetent.

    Just keep loving

mislead needy obnoxious

people,

quiets restless souls

      temporarily.

Until vision warrant

X-ray yerning

 Zephyr.

pumping blood

eyes dilating

emotions 

borderline 

on hate and

goosebumps rise

when you're near

read between lines

of every word

I hear

you utter

the fear

of you not

being here 

clutters

my brain

I can't be with you

nor without you, 

you half of one

yet the prey

the killer of me

yet

this would stay

even if you flee.

Naked is the song of life,

10,000 suns have stroked your skin,

You stand transfixed

before the dawn of life,

bonded together in darkness

but you are no longer unseeing.

Lend me your wisdom

and give me your laughter

as canary light shimmers

in your vivid dreams.

Warm sensations post words

along your moonlit pages -

You do not need vision

to warble enchantment

of your heartbeat,

as you leave whispers

on my skin and

pressed lips on my soul.

Imagined white pinholes

of light appear before you

as negativity marches away

from your parade of shadows.

Breathe deeply the chill of air,

behind a veil hide nothing

but create your own world.

Fill your fingertips with

resplendent colors and

smooth the rough patches.

Feel the soft sands on

your wandering toes,

bridge your heart fully

with your magnificent mind.

Mysteries of love will

expose you to rapture.

Ocean waves of new beginnings

flow in to erase your darkness.

Hoist your sails and steer

your course to freedom

and gentle purity

as you smell the scent

of all life has to offer.

Break free from your

restrictive chains,

envision all life

has to offer –

march forth

into your own light.

(a poem for the visually impaired who see more than we do)

I believe we are all born,

A blank canvas.

Throughout life,

Others make marks.

Splats and blotches of red hot rage.

Blue ripples like waves,

Marking depression as it rolls,

Crashes and rises into calm green.

Your soul is painted,

Maybe with the not so steady hand,

Of a drug addicted parent.

Or with the gentle care,

Of an older sibling.

Maybe someone took time,

And care while painting you,

But you are still covered,

In the sorrows of purple smears.

No matter how you became,

The beautiful portrait,

That walks about today,

You have the choice,

To wear your colours with pride,

Or hide in shame, 

For fear of what people may think.

my heart is heavy..

my heart is heavy for you...

my heart is heavy for you! reaching out to you! oh the need for life to be given to your emotions and conscience that you seem to have killed

WAKE UP!

I'm venting cause its not fun being the happy cheerful one when everyone else around you has changed to be some I-don't-care individual…

and then they complain about being lonely and everyone in the world not being loyal like have you spent a hour with yourself?

what I need is for those of y'all around me all of y'all around me to WAKE UP!

and stop drowning in your unconscious state of darkness so much so that you now even enjoy the sadness...

I don't want to be dimmed out... I fighting to keep my light shining but

it feels like when the darkness is so thick sometimes... it can cover up the light... or dim it out so low its almost not there...

You deserve a good, happy life not one that requires you to be 'self-made' or to only want to 'die-for-the-money'

You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be free. You deserve to be loved and wanted and have laughter be on your lips more times than not

I know I'm suppose to be a light IN the darkness and I'm suppose to spread the light, make other people light too by the Grace of God but...

my heart is heavy for you...

my heart is heavy..

I don't feel

The same fire

I had for him.

My body

Isn't burning

With desire.

It's obvious

To anyone 

Who looks.

But I once read

We should love

Safety instead

Of passion.

How sad for me,

That I am

Letting my fiery

Passion burn to

Nothing but ash

So that I can

Flee to safety.

I am not a 

"Safe" person,

But maybe I

Can learn it.

It is late at night

When I began to type.

The keys make a soft clatter.

The night time silence was shattered.

I freezed.

The cat sneezed.

Peace returned.

The night turned.

The sun rose

As i began to doze.

If a bitter lying tongue

having practiced its craft

for many years

with ruthless success

suddenly taste sweet

to its owner…beware

your soul is in jeopardy.

Dissociation sits in the corner drinking a gin martini up, and I regret that I never acquired a taste. Singularity consoles me on the reclusive journey into the bowels of my mind, and I find comfort in the sanctity of its tissue.

The air is crisp in here; it feels like a funeral home before a wake, but it tastes as stale as the corpse's lapsed breath.

Visibility is minimal through the opaque ghosts crowding me, as I struggle to find anything remotely familiar. I am lost and I disrobe. And in one large gaping sweep the earth gasped, and the uprooted atmosphere brushes the hair back from my face.

I offered my ribs to pick the flesh from their teeth, and I harvested my own heart for iron.

Disembodied voices of unknown friends have returned to my bedside, and the hands of a wall clock are heckling me.