evolution is the culprit for many setbacks
one being how much i crave him
the other being how many carcasses caress his floor
counterfeit intimacy plagues pests plenty
love becomes more of a noun than a feeling
his hands on my curves
palms on my shoulders
grip on my neck
fingers trace an apology down my backbone
before i can resist repulsive recollections
death recoils at the base of my spine
tolerance becomes our safe word
there was a hesitation in the love of turning away from him
though i am incapable of comprehending spaces he left
i stop opening doors for others when i start locking my own
paying back the universe with
our severed ties
their open arms
my slow progression
returns with a participation award for living
as if existing without him is an accomplishment
before learning to live for myself ever could be

I had a dream last night,
Didn't want to sleep through it.
Wanted to wake up,
Hit me hard and I had enough.
Why do the bad ones stay etched in your memory,
It's like the bad thoughts surface saying, "Remember me?"

Leave me alone,
Give me some peace.
I want my head on the pillow
And getting some sleep.
All of these thoughts are so deep,
But I don't want to deal with this pressure,
So let me be and I'll find my pleasure.

In the night I am joined.
A drink summons a row of faces,
unrecognizable they come to me as penumbras.
A swirl of half crescent grins and grimaces cry out in pain.
I am ****** into a hole of submission,
here are all the allegorical creations living inside of me.
These things stand tall, bare and judging.
Laughing and watching as I fall into a bottomless grip called “inevitability".
Breathing raw, dank ideologies.
Manifesting nasty, stubborn idiosyncrasies.  
I am freed by another drink
And the pleasant reality
that sometimes moving on
means laughter.

At times they were just plain words on paper
and at times they were expressive and powerful poetry.
At times it was paint spilled all over
and at times it was a masterpiece.
At times it was a stress
and at times it was a relief.

I guess
progress was never meant to be linear.
It was never meant to be all flow
without ebb.
It was never supposed to be all great and good,
but neither were these times supposed to have the power
to bring you down to give up,
because you feel it will never be good enough.

Destiny seems
most of the time
to progress
not in quantum-leaps
but in effort-won increments.

Why wait until the end of the tunnel?

You can make your own light, wherever you stand.