I call to you from bruised knees,
amidst a haze of my own humanness
in a blood-smeared tunic
with dirt in my nail beds
tear stains on my face
and you are waiting.
Arms spread wide and love in your eyes.
“You are mine”,
And my heart slows -
because I am yours.

You know my heart –
every muscle and sinew,
you built to the frame of my bones
breathed your design into every cell
and numbered the hairs on my head.

And so, whilst I battle confused against my fingers
Gripping like iron clamps to burdens,
refusing to give them up though I so want to let go -
You are not surprised.
I don’t understand.
You didn’t ask me to.
And from the depths of my soul song rises
whispered, ragged almost at first
to praise the One who never changes
who is always trustworthy
whose arms are spread wide and waiting
a heart felt Hallelujah.

A warrior in a deep thicket,
where the path lies hidden,
thoughts are buried in shadows.

Legs hang heavy,
arms bear carved stories,
eyes—emptied of light—
still search for a road unseen.

I feel it’s all
right there—
within my reach,
yet so far away.

Goals, dreams,
all those shiny
self-help
and healthy-living promises—

I can’t be that person.

Someone help me.

I seemed to be on a good curve toward healing
Everything was falling into place
Then a wave came
and washed it all away
It’s what the doctors call
ICD F33

sometimes
i promise, it is only sometimes
i would like to be in pain
and not the kind
where it's tearing at your skin
or the steady thrum of a headache
no, i need it to be loud
and sharp
as if there were jagged edges
worming their way into me
through me
burrowing into my lungs
so i hesitate to take a breath
even though it is essential
for my survival
a pain so desperate, so consuming
that i contemplate
giving in
no, i should call it what it is
giving up

i want it to leave hollow graves
shallow graves
in my bones
where the blood will pool
mixing in with whatever
anguish and despair
i have collected
i have lived with
stored within me
because i never knew
where else to keep it
i could never find another
empty house
and my pages were leaking ink

and so giving in to that pain
those jagged edges
is the only possible release
i can think of
the only justification
for abandoning the acceptance
of the absurd
the only way i will feel
past the futility of
sunken days and soulless eyes

Shoot the bird in the foot
Let the sin drip down your chin
You've downed your prey
And held them at bay.
Now sink your fangs into flesh and blood
And pierce the veins
With their flowing crimson.

The mess before you
Feathers strewn about
Clean and white and dotted with red.
Doesn't their fear astound you
The beating of a heart in their breast
Dark eye does dart around
And nails scratch for any grip.

Don't you tear into them more
And revel at the meal?
The way their screams part from their lips
Like an innocent bird
What have they done to deserve this?

Mortal bones break
Mortal flesh tears
Mortal blood does weep.
Does the crimson not shine in the light
Like an expensive wine in a fantasy's delight?

It's blue inside
Not red.
It's white
Not red.
The flesh falling away from the bone
With phalanges exposed to the cold night air.
I saw it happen,
When you peeled the skin away
The layer of white like that of a peeled apple
being prepared for a pie.

When you pierced the cheek with your sharp white points.
When your lips graced the curve of the neck and suckled until crimson spilled.
The velvety black inside your mouth,
Corrupted with the scarlet red
of fresh blood from the vein in which it came.

Does it not bother you?
When you dismantle your prey as though you are a bird of the night
And them a sleepy songbird wishing for a roost?

Hunger.
It must burden you so
To blink when a heart beats and roars
And to hold back the tempest inside
Lest you expose your most private secret in front of the crowds.
How I wish it does so.
Forever.
May you never feel the joy of taking the lives of them all at once.
May you cower in the darkness
And hide within the deepest shadows
Not because the sunlight burns,
No, because the men will hunt you and make your kind known as they sharpen their wooden spears.
And none of you will be safe again.

Bleed your bird
Drain your victim
They are perhaps helpless alone
But the cluster of many is the terror you shall know, forevermore.

Do you remember
The last time you ate ice cream without feeling the need to surrender?
The last time you stepped on a scale
Without the number determining whether you pass or fail?

Do you remember
The last time you truly smiled without it feeling dismembered?
The last time you felt true joy and delight
Without you and your face having a fight?

Do you remember
The last time you got mad and didn’t get yelled at for your “temper?”
When were were young and naive
Without the fear of how you’re perceived?

I doubt it.
But now you find any excuse to jump into the pit.
You constantly spiral,
Not thinking about you’re survival.