She used the stars as her blanket, the moon was her pillow
Her name is carried on every limb of every weeping willow  

The winds of change she often road
A free wild soul, through the cosmos she flowed

In the Milky Way she liked dipping in her toes
Can't you see the silver ripples as they flow

When on Saturn's rings she would go for a twirl
That shinny raven night hair always waved out behind her

She would wash her soul clean in Jupiter's  falls
She always loved listening to that planets howling wind's calls

But now  she sits on the Dark Side of the Moon
In her twinkling dark eyes, tears are in bloom

They are flowing down her checks, falling out into space
She is crying because she finally got a look at this pathetic human race

Saddened and sicken by what she saw
She jetted of into the cosmos, never to return at all

Now we can only tell stories of that raven haired beauty, as we set beside her shore
It is a sea of her tears, when the sorrowful ways of man she could take no more

every 28 days,
the human skin replenishes itself.
my hands are tired of building new homes
on top of old eviction letters.
I am aching for a body
that treats me like a cure,
and not the disease that needs it.

I live as a counterfeit version of myself;
I am a kleptomaniac who steals the breath
from people that would have found a use for it.
tell me how to refund
what I didn't buy.

my veins are a breeding ground for despondency,
my bones a shelter for malaise.
to try to be kind to myself
is to cauterize a wound
after the infection has already spread.

You wrap my hair around your index finger,
And tell me that you love me.
No less, no more, than you ever have before.

You kiss my forehead and hold my hand,
And whisper that you'll never leave me.
As long as I am forever breathing.

You hugged me goodbye before I went to work,
When I came home you were so badly hurt,
Blood pouring from ever eligible place,
I'd never seen such terror on somebody's face.

You died that day, in an awful way,
And now I miss you every single day.
Suicide is not alright, people shouldn't have to fight.

I've never experienced such pain in my chest,
As when the doctors told me you were out of breath.

I'm forever in debt to you, for the happiness that you gave me,
Was evidently more than I ever gave to you.

There are days
when my soul feels
stretched out
like a ribbon
emotions
           hang
                  ing
from a thread
on the line,
like laundry, for
all to see, on pegs
vulnerable
           in storms
letting wind caress
and sometimes whip them
         round in beaten time
like a tempest
They tend to
get bruised, secretly
battered internally
as the surface of me smiles
and marches on
Vocal chords tightening
as the larynx longs
            in primal urge
     to take out the words
in one long
      graceful arc
             of purge
On these days I
need to sit
in the cloudforms
of my mind's eye
      and let myself feel
  what I cannot show:    
the daily coldness gnawing
    at my innards
      blow by icy blow
In these hours
I must let the tears
well up and run down
             until the sting of salt
penetrates the glacier
let the significance of
unspoken words
rise up from
the deep dermis layers
into my throat, my tonsils
up to the palate and tongue
               out through my lips
to the heavens,
releasing the unsung
         those words caught within
the walls of my neck -
they almost make me choke
exhaust contamination
from heavy, unseen smoke
  It billows up and out
and soon, like
hard-worked magic
this morse code is busted
because I am sick of feeling tragic
I command clear
communication
      to filter through
the spasms of fog
in drops of dew
I command my words to be heard
in tiny spikes of sun
And all the while
            in clear spirals,  
                    a prayer commences to
                        be spun:
for the harsh
               and bitter
be flushed out
             in unabated, icy rush
for my soul to rise up
           for the cleansing
in aching spirit blush
for the painfulness
of silence
to be ground out
upon the floor
for the shadows of
the violence
to be obliterated
to the
       core