I don't know much,
Then l do know a lot,
I don't know what's true,
But I know what's not;

What I know true and full,
Binds me together firm,
A simple truth breathing,
Potent red, sinster green;

I've loved you completely,
Vivid rich and vast,
That I know with awe,
I miss your eyes;

My mind drowns in them,
Such grace and comfort,
You'll never leave my mind,
I love you, my moon baby.

My brain has been torn apart
Crumpled together
And smeared across the billboards of my timeline
My heart shredded and trampled on
My body has seen torments and tortures
That parents fear and
Don’t understand the possibility.
I was told it was my fault.
Every action had its cause.
Every act of terror had its reason.
Me.

But it was never my fault.

I wasn’t the reason I hated this thigh,
Or this skin
Or these bones.
Or this brain
This way of thinking.

Nothing was ever wrong with me.

24 HOURS

Read in reverse --
cupped wingspan of a flying cloud
drinking the brightness of an evening sky ;
Blazing cascade of northern lights, shadow
spaces rare, unguessed meaning of all
that pours longing into empty places of the night.

There are nebula perhaps cradling new stars
in heaven’s secret constellations, radiance
tender and consumming --

then, a drop of sun, goss-layered gossamer
over a rippled veil of shade and light,
dawn shifting irridescense into milky
pink rose refreshes the fraility of soul.

Day’s ardent color makes promises
fading gradually into the curve
of softening dark-- the silver curve
of early moon or the pyrotechnics
of a falling star.

24 hours, a presence constantly moving on,
a marriage of day and night when earth,
moon, sun and we align.