It's funny how
It's easier to open my skin
Then to open my mouth
And ask for help

The tree knows nothing
but how to be only
what it is..

   the wind blows,
   and it responds..

And embedded within
  the treelines
are the little-ones  hiding;

There is a safety
within the  simplicity
of the groves..
Outside the treeline
danger lurks

Little Spirits  were born
with their little  freedoms  intact--

In freedom.. they are only
drawn out  by Love

Claws rip me inside-out
The path of my spine allows it.
I look up at myself
Surgery scars, shaky limbs,
Pale skin, scabs, and veins.
I’m slouched over, limp
As fire burns through my bones.
The room is spinning through,
my heart is falling out of my chest
My lungs struggle and shake.
The paramedic questions me,
I see his blurred figure through tears.
They connect the wires,
Words fail me this time.
Sweat is dripping down my body
Cold needles caress me.
This is going to be a long night.

Sometimes I simply can't breathe
Or that's what it feels like to me

And he's not here anymore to point out
That if I can talk to him I'm breathing
That the loud noise in my ears is the air
Rushing in and punching out

He's not here anymore to remind me
It's my mind playing tricks and
Perception is key and its
Just my anxiety

The ceiling peels in slow spirals,
not from neglect,
but from how long I’ve stared at it,
counting the flake’s hesitation before it drops.
The clock ticks without punctuation,
dragging each second like a dull knife
across something soft I used to need.

My limbs forget they’re mine
unless I remind them,
a muscle twitches,
a shoulder reconsiders its weight.
Even my name feels unstitched,
like a coat I keep meaning to throw away
but wear because it still remembers my shape.

Outside, birds call to each other
like they’ve never been tired,
like morning isn’t a decision.
Inside, I steep in low-level static,
a hum no one else hears,
thick as wool,
soft as resignation.

I gave them the love I never received
they gave me the hatred I've never seen
I gave them every piece of me
they admitted to using me
I lied for them
they lied to me
love cant be one way down a two way street

I've never written a limerick.
Thinking of it makes me sick.
Better a sonnet
or a woman upon it.
Maybe, I'll just play with my ****.

You and I
Wade knee-deep
In fragrant meadows