like nausea comes in waves,



melancholy,misery enters,



it robs and depraves,



the mind,the soul,



destroying your being,



its ultimate goal.



dark demons writhe and chase,

hair pulling,self harming,



scratching at your face,



darkest deepest black,



dragging you back,



to a time you wish was alien.



ebony looms,



at the light within,



snuffing life out,



he shadows you,



the reaper,



with his deathly grin.



madness,delusions,



insanity,instability,



pandemoni­um,lunacy,



all real in the mind,



not deadly illusions.

Dearest moon, must you leave so soon?
to duck beneath the ground
and reappear in a distant land.
my mind is bound
as I discover I'm in so much deeper than I planned.
Another restless day leads to another sleepless night.
Let's go stare off into space
and lose our sense of time.
Never felt so out of place
than when I claimed the baggage that was mine.
It burns so bad, but baby I've never felt better
Trying to teach you what I've learned
that nothing we know is real.
Played with matches and ended up getting burned
but it just showed me how much I can't feel.
Casting shadows that haunt me at night,
you allow me to exaggerate,
let me mask the indecent.
Tell my mind to contemplate,
as I hide my true content.
**I am calm and waiting for the sun's approach.

Eres mi rosa prohibida
Siempre te amare
Tus espinas me gritan
El dolor que sentiré

Y aunque mis manos sangran
Como el rojo de tu piel
Eres mi rosa hermosa
Y siempre te amare

She was a mother for the first time,
she was so glad,
her life was like a nursery rhyme,
the baby was everything she had,
but she would turn suddenly very sad,
gloomy and taciturn,
everything made her mad,
and there were moods she had to learn,
something was terribly wrong,
those odd moods would last very long,
her problem was that she kept it silent altogether,
her mind compressed, her thoughts depressed,
and she felt distressed,
but she hid it all so well,
even her husband couldn’t tell,
then it was that frightful night,
terrible sight,
her moods collided,
her thoughts exploded,
her motherhood corroded,
she talked in her sleep the night before,
there was a gloomy silence and mute weeping,
baby on the floor,
and he wasn’t sleeping,
she became hysterical,
she kept crying and almost never stopped,
her sanity popped,
and she was so bent out of shape,
she fell hard in the nursery,
and realized there was no escape.

You are my pillow,
you are my only sweet Lullaby

swim until you can’t see land

until names etched deep in cardiac tissue blur

and fade, scored over with seasalt and creases of a million maps,

a secret stash of maps. absurd and hoarded and crumpled under carseats and

rolled neat

and boastful in umbrella holders or worse, framed and hung

Maps jotted freehand on napkins stained with tea and mustard and left

to be bused with the crusts and pocketful of change.

swim until you can’t read the maps.

the lines to here from there are arteries

on your fresh, clean heart.

LOVELY Semiramis
Closes her slanting eyes:
Dead is she long ago.
From her fan, sliding slow,
Parrot-bright fire's feathers,
Gilded as June weathers,
Plumes bright and shrill as grass
Twinkle down; as they pass
Through the green glooms in Hell
Fruits with a tuneful smell,
Grapes like an emerald rain,
Where the full moon has lain,
Greengages bright as grass,
Melons as cold as glass,
Piled on each gilded booth,
Feel their cheeks growing smooth.
Apes in plumed head-dresses
Whence the bright heat hisses,--
Nubian faces, sly
Pursing mouth, slanting eye,
Feel the Arabian
Winds floating from the fan.

In the hour of death, after this life’s whim,
When the heart beats low, and the eyes grow dim,
And pain has exhausted every limb—
  The lover of the Lord shall trust in Him.

When the will has forgotten the lifelong aim,
And the mind can only disgrace its fame,
And a man is uncertain of his own name—
  The power of the Lord shall fill this frame.

When the last sigh is heaved, and the last tear shed,
And the coffin is waiting beside the bed,
And the widow and child forsake the dead—
  The angel of the Lord shall lift this head.

For even the purest delight may pall,
And power must fail, and the pride must fall,
And the love of the dearest friends grow small—
  But the glory of the Lord is all in all.