On my way into  
the chamber of the rose
I saw there was no rose
a thorn is on the door!

Slash it cut it bin it off
I did these all
only to grow many more!

I took a chance
without drawing close
with a pinch of salt
I played a creative stroke.

Ah did I rub the Aladdin’s lamp
now it seems to talk?
Fostering an array of whispers
we tend to build a bubble.
Only to realise I am
still outside at the door!
Mediating with the thorn
yet to art over to the rose.

I’m thinking in paintings & graphic novels,
Ink flowing through my veins,
Brimming to the top with genres,

Spitting words,
With devilish curves,

As I twirl,
My wrists through arcs,
And sagas,
Open the pages with,
Adventures,
Full of romance and science,

Weave you through webs of emotion,
That make you feel, see, and hear,
Reality erosion,
As you weep, grieve, and cheer,

Then lull you to sleep,
In my cradle of feeling,
Secure and heard,
Healing,

Feel my magic,
Through my art,
Warm your insides,
With my heart.

If today

I never wrote

I would have disappointed

this spring

I can't remember

last year

or even springs before it

I can't remember how many split

seconds surrounded me tenderly

like water

I hide in the house

can't see the crimson of a certain flower

can't hear the sound

of a delicate bud jumping for joy

I can only

hold a cup of aged green tea

fantasy or speculation

glistening verdant details

of all things

when I look back at so many springs

many years later

I remember this

every breath I breathed

I had waited.

I HATE NICE PEOPLE
their small talk
their half empty smiles
their exaggerated cackles
their silent judgement
I HATE MEAN PEOPLE
their simmering rage
their quick temper
their sideways glances
their blissful ignorance
I HATE PEOPLE
their stubborn ways
their bad habits
their herd mentality
their inconsistencies
I LOVE HUMANITY
their goodness
their rebellion
their resiliency
their power to overcome

dreamcatchers are a hoax
as if nightmares could be filtered
or dreams could be altered
flashbacks too strong to wake
stuck to a bed unfamiliar with my space
cold sweat turns **** warm
there is medication for that
but no remedy for peace of mind

therapists are a joke
as if someone could solve you
or memories could be erased
bonds too weak to mend
forgiveness being a foreign concept
cold nights scatter my thoughts
there is medication for that
but no remedy for closure

lovers are a hoax
as if someone could adore you
or make you feel whole again
issues too complex to solve
location unknown
your side of the bed is cold
there is no medication for that
there is no
****

flowers you gave her
starting to wilt
first daises
depraving innocence
then a lonely rose
pink petals swelling
under pressure
living off artificial sweeteners
suffocating wildflowers
does not tame her
drawn out death
begging for life
souls need sun to thrive
not sugar to borrow
bouquets only live
dying for replacement  
another petal falls
leaves are always last
clutching thorns on stems
holding everything upright
time sensitivity quickens
containing beauty consistently
cutting herself short
viscously controlling
how long you get to see
the illusion
weeping alone
hoarding tears
neglecting to refill
vases left to rot
turning vases into jars
depositing wax at her expense
candles illuminating scarlet letters
ignites inescapable fires
killing her spirit
she too dies slowly

Early morning when I get up
I am in a fight with the dark forces
that inhabit my bones
and haunt my mind.

And I have a choice:
heaven and life or the devil and death.

having a savior complex as a defense mechanism
only proves your naïve nature to be in bloom
do not sacrifice yourself to assist my growth
if you have been choking buds from blossoming
desirable only under your own timing
strategically planning how to keep me -

to escape your cruelty would be my first destination
along the roadmap: "Putting My Heart Back Together"
stop basking in your anger
quit trembling in your wake
halt feeding our flame you so desperately yearn to keep alive
as if your flicker could burn down mountains
I have built around myself -

season's change will wither your mal-intent
revenge budding with debris and pests
vermin desperately seeking attention
temptation licking at my ankles
keeping my eyes forwards
this being no trip for me in any regard
but an unpleasant stop along the way -

these hornets I have mistaken for bees
thorns thought to be flowers
at first being destructive in the face of opposition
now I offer honey instead of vinegar
this time I will not suffer lonely -

feeding into trembles in my pulse,
letting your words stain blood
coursing through my veins,
too easily I give in to the silence between beats,
my heartbeat -

oh! my poor heart,
this tired thing that won’t stop me
using my soul as a guiding light
instead of fires you set forth
can be a tiring task
but well worth the hassle
even while traveling alone.