The ice was thick on the hill
but I don't remember being afraid,
only the warmth of my breath
on my frosted tongue.
I had put my feet against the ground,
hopped from place to place,
prayed to the earth
so She would forgive me,
but winter is unforgiving.
I remember the smell of wet soil, rot,
the snapping of twigs
as I fell backwards.
An eternity
all at once,
the boiling sky blurred, rolled,
my limbs calling
for the silence,
my spine meeting stone and fury.
Agony, relief,
sliced me open.
I remember trying to stand,
how my feet wouldn't move
even when I pleaded with them,
begged them
to forgive me.
How black blood is
when it pools in your eyes,
how hot
and itchy, molten,
against your eyelashes.
It doesn't hurt
when your lungs fill with blood,
it feels warm.
Like a mother comforting you,
screaming for help,
asking why she wasn't told,
grasping the arms of doctors
and patients.
Losing patience,
too much blood on her hands,
it felt like thistles, weeds,
reclaiming my skin
and repossessing my breath.
Drag me under a blanket of moss
and cherish my open wounds -
I created a valley of red,
crimson, so bright
they all fell in love with me,
my namesake.
I contracted, clotted,
but there was still blood within me.
I was still alive
yet no bleach could remove
the stains from my surface,
it left its mark
in scars and the dark
and all that remains
is two eyes peering
at me.

It was as if the world itself fell away and all that existed was the piano. He reluctantly made his way over to the gigantic instrument, and simply stared. His hands, seeming to have a mind of their own, absentmindedly struck few comfortable keys. The hollow notes hung, as is frozen in midair, before bouncing about the room and finally fading into silence. A hushed quiet falls on his unnoticed audience as he stands above the playground of his hands. His fingers hover above the ivory keys, fearing the outcome he knew would accompany his continuance. With a frown he pushed on, filling the room with strings of beautiful music, playing out his very soul. It was more than music, it was life, it was the feeling of soft grass warmed by the rays of the afternoon sun, it was the first sip of cold lemonade on a blistering day, but to him it was her. Suddenly, the music became soft and somber, as the tempo grew erratic and uncontrolled. He felt anger course through him as his hand grew tighter and began to lock in unusual places. His listeners now shuffle nervously while others look on, concerned for their unknowing player. His anger gives way to despair as his right hand suddenly cracks and grows limp, leaving his left to finish with only a lonely chord. As the last notes ring out, he cradles his hand and turns to leave only to hear clapping.

She wanted more,
more than she was able to have.

She wasn't happy with herself,
she wanted to be part of their world.

Swimming wasn't enough.

Oh how she wanted to walk,
to walk away from all of her problems.

The people she let down.
The disappointment.

She was scared.
Scared that she'll never be as good as she was,
a long time ago,
in a place almost distant.

She changed.

She lost her voice.
Her motivation.
Her desire.

She wanted to be happy Again.
She had lost her world and everything important.

She wanted to go back
to her previous home.

She jsut wanted to swim
and be happy
with little disappointment.

It was fear that held her back.

I press play
and let the music completely transform me
I am no longer just attached to the sounds through a chord
I am a dancer, fluid and powerful
I see intricate choreography that my body can no longer replicate
pause
my leg throbs from the nerves
the temperature rapidly changing
as it has done for over a year
the expulsion of molten earth- Vesuveus
mingles and transforms
the frozen winter of Russia, where no army can win
my leg throbs
play
I try to memorize the world I am taken to
I practice ways to explain what I see
maybe I can't translate this world
but somebody else can.

i'll split my ribcage
to show you how i work
if you promise not to laugh
or look repulsed.
i'm so used to cutting you open and
stretching your very heartstrings
to relieve a little tension
without you even asking
that i can create that incision blindfolded,
but when i need sutures
for a lone rose coloured ****,
i ask and you're gone.
i'm prepared to rip my ribcage apart
but you have to get a grip
of the knotted pulpous mess my organs have become
over decades of neglect
when they erupt from my chest
and sprawl at your feet.

teeth shouldn't
lie on pavement
and blood shouldn't
run down your face

and as i dragged
myself along the
side of the road
i thought to myself

this is the lowest
moment of my life

flat on my back
staring into the
12 o'clock high sun
and sobbing

i wanted to die before
this moment but now
it's only reinforced
cemented in place
that in fact i can't
do anything right

some wise woman
supposed sage of ages
once told my mother
that for every great emotion
a person needs a physical
container to put it in

but what should one do
when their container
has always been a retainer
that now doesn't fit?

hit where it hurts most
my mouth
years spent suffering
so i can wake up
every morning with a
fresh twenty dollar smile

and now that's
all gone i suppose

maybe i'm vain
or maybe i'm dumb
but the smile makes
the woman and mine
is looking like i'm
not so human

penny for my thoughts?
i'd give a lifetime of
change jars to get
back my perfect teeth