does waking down hallways ever seem like a sob story waiting to happen?
too often their eyes divert to dusty corners
lights shine a little too bright
and the ominous "not" knots in all vessels,
each and every one
it's as if the slices of misery were incorporated into the rainwater and scratchy stereo in the vicinity of the heart, bleeding out

-cj

Taking risks didn't make her feel safe
That wasn't her objective
Wild beatings of her heart,
an adrenaline pulsing through her veins,
an undeniable sensation of being alive,
convinced her that she was
finally living
Sights, sounds, speaking without fear
It was a waking up from the comatose state she had been victim to before now
Even the whites of her eyes agreed
No surrenders necessary,
only breaths and smiles
A new kind of existing

-cj

Trying to be brave
collecting these crystals
of nerve to act
with pure adrenaline
twisting my lungs into braids
and when you are
loosened, laughter cycles out
a tension in the knees,
followed by weakness
maps couldn't lead me to you,
but my core knows where
you are, an intuition I
swallow with ice cold water
attempts to defy fear
that fuses within
sputter into the rain you
drive in,
a wasted blue hot firelight
at least I tried

-cj

like a mouth camouflaged among the trees,
I was undetectable among the others:
silent, hidden,
no colours to catch the light

-cj

seventeen candles
and a calendar of semi-regreta
prancing on the table
amidst the pure emptiness of the moment
talent bleeds for nothing
(abide with the sky and all will be fine)
red shutters on the houses
and violets in the green by the road
numbers blur into a mirage of senseless digits,
the air reminds why
days spent in fear, months wasted on heartbreak
that made everything come into place
so blow out candles, you're too old to be so shy
that boy you love is october's favourite medium
until the midnight smothers the embers,
breathe in the quaint dozen plus five fires at your lips
it's seventeen candles, not seventeen knives

-cj

It's just thoughts
superfluous packaging
included with this veiny pink brain
circles taint my skull with their patterns of travel
to **** them is to vanquish my spirit, my own life
until they are released from their cage
and written, or whispered, or etched
all between my ears is lovely chemical chaos

-cj

Can anyone live as freely as lady madonna?
she gave birth to the lord, the saviour
and if she happened to deceive or insult or covet
could god really say she was guilty?

-cj