Unanswered uncertainties limber up
Unwanted confrontations cumulate
Passion deliquescing over unexplored reason
Unacknowledged, ignored, overwritten and dismissed
Without consideration for his fragile heart
The answers flow broiling him, wearing him down

Scorn rejection,
When trust is misplaced,
And she exfoliates to true skin
Hatred smothers over her love act
Bogs him down by the shoulders
All seems empty, all is empty

Toyed with, lied to and used up
He is a clock rigged for self destruction
With no actions that lead to consequences
The reason seems bleak and obvious
His respect for her dies, His respect for her other doesn't exist
She is not the one he loved, she is not the one that he knew

A younger him he sees in her other
Making the same mistake he did, mislaid trust
The multifaceted chameleon that she is
The other doesn't see
Pouring his heart out and defending her wrongs
The other starts to undermine and ignore him

Move on they say,
Only his heart is too heavy
Forget her they say,
Only she was a perennial settlement in my memory, he thought
Hate her they say,
Only he hates himself more for trying

No one understands him
Everyone tries, but no one understands
He loved, he was back stabbed
He suffered and suffocated under the blanket of secrets
Lighten your heart brother,  the mascot of a good soul
You will be alright.

The frumpy ragamuffin is discombobulated
And throws together an out fit
She dawns a fur coat in the middle of July
And begins to eat Alpo
She exfoliates her feet with a cheese grater

The top notch tuba player with a hook for a hand suffers from bed sores and an over active pituitary gland
I ask him what the difference is between reasons and excuses
He seems to be dancing around the question
But answers in a round about way
Implying that one is organic and natural while the other is genetically modified and man made

It's zero hour
As I look at the broken coo coo clocks
And the rainbow colored rocks

The ragamuffin presumptuously tells me that no one benefits from doubt  
Then calls my friend a bed wetter
And tells us she must go to feed her Venus flytraps
She storms back towards her laboratory

I wonder what she could possibly do in there
I'm dying to know
I'm on the edge of my seat
With one foot in the grave

The tuba player returns wrapped in an electric blanket
He tells us he's just suffered from sleep paralysis
"It's a dead zone, can't get a signal"
He goes on to say that blind faith is is a stepping stone to the truth
A game of William Tell, a stab in the dark
A round of Blind man's bluff with Marco Polo

Testing the waters is a building block of wisdom
And a clean bill of health is corner stone of a happy life
That you have to pay for out of pocket when playing the field
And we are the choices we've made incarnate

Now, the ragamuffin and the tuba player come once more
To tell us the mind is as incorruptible as the soul
But the body will bow to time and wither away
They then walk backwards, back to where ever they came

Revolt from the cold of the wind,
She spares know waste of energy
Under diluted skies and foreign stars,
The mask comes off
Reveling the reflection of flawed
Simply dark
Indulged in silence,, for words cannot capture everything
She exfoliates a still heart
However in her stillness,
Everything fluctuates
Leaping and bouncing and ******* around
In silence there is no stillness,
For stillness is a state of mind
Just as imperfection is perfect,
So is she
Adversed to love or not,
Embrace your footprint I say
Mankind's impeccabilities remain flawless
Disastrous and miraculous art formed off original memories and emotions.  
Expect the unexpected for it drips of meaning.
A comfort to all wanderers and squatters I hope.

The walls are soft, smooth
Almost porcelain, almost perfect
Until my hand runs over an imperfection
A flaw then another, and another.
A ceramic cave encloses me on all sides,
Making the space cramped
And a deep midnight shade of blue.
So in twilight I am entwined
And instead of hearing the ocean,
I feel its reverberation echo in waves
And it’s not liberation I feel
   It’s devotion
    Or just raw emotion
It’s difficult to divide the difference…

Blurring oneiric spaces
I’m not drawing any more, just erasing
Stuck inside this metaphorical shell
It gets tighter as you go further,
Deeper as it winds and coils
Almost like a trachea to the heart.
You can’t survive here.

Now the pulses begin to deafen,
The sand itches the skin
And not only exfoliates but sheds its tough outer layer
I think they call it pride
It’s something everybody hides.

Upon a red flaming dragon she rides
Trying to tame it, control it,
And harness its beauty and strength.
At first she is cautious and gentle, and the creature bows with respect
For granted she abused the tender beast,
Wasted, jaded and scarred
Now it bucks and resists at every command
Waiting for a chance to escape, to be free.

And the ink dries up in the pen before it gets a chance to bleed on a blank page
And leave its imprint in time
The focus is shattered now, paintbrush bristles hard and brittle
Crumbling to ashes as soon as they kiss the paint
The Moist dye ingests the ash which mixes with the poet’s tears
To become a sticky and vengeful monster
That haunts me in my dreams.

In vivid strands, like a dewy spider web
Dreams entangle my mind
And the full moon causes the tide to ebb.
Time is an orange, peel back the rind.

And memories float on the surface of the mist
In the calm before the storm
And explode in bursts of thunder and jagged light.
You shield your eyes and you raise your fist
Hoping that the beast within will soon resist
And with inspiration be reborn
And blast in undulations of a second sight
And together look to the sky, run, and take flight.




Melissa Mutch
2006

She cleans until every surface gleams
Cleans and cleans to remove life’s grime
Just one more time will do it
One more time and she will be through it
No leaks no spillages allowed to remain
No signs of decay; life’s easier that way
She keeps on cleaning every day
As the dirt disappears so do the years
Until the next time she looks in the mirror
Sees the woman she has become
She can’t dust the lines away, the mirror never lies,
It reflects the story of her stolen youth
So she exfoliates, scrubs, buys cosmetics
The face she is left with she’s learnt to despise
Her hair is the colour of despair; grey, hardly there
To get out of her head she cleans instead
Cleans until every surface shines, safe in this sterile world
Outside rain is falling like tears, obliterating her reflection
Inside the house is a palace, fit for inspection
She cleans just once more, believing doubts will go away
Tomorrow today’s fears will be returning
So she keeps on cleaning, keeps on dreaming
Ready to battle another weary day

When you close your eyes.
Do you see color?
Some say no.
Because of the intensity in the darkness.
But, if you actually took the time to think about it.
Your eyes search for the light.
The smallest amount takes over and creates vibrant and wonderful colors.
Purples and light blue spread across the eyelid.
Sometimes orange and yellow.
It opens like flowers blooming, or when the sun comes out from hiding behind the cloud.
Maybe that is what we see in our dreams.
The memory of color exfoliates our brains.
Enhancing the dream to become somewhat realistic.
Yet we do not grasp it all, because of its grandeur.

Giant Pandas can defecate up to 40 times in a day.
Dragons spit fire around 800 degrees Fahrenheit.
And the words that come out of my dental cavity are not always holy.

Although I don't consistently speak truth I often hindsight the difficulties in my speech ability. The ability to speak proper, well, or complete is not always present behind this broken breath. In a desperate attempt to square away my oval thought process I thumb words into a pixelated infinity of memories. Letters typed out across the fog covering lower layers of hazy thoughts. Filling up neurotic gaps with logged cabin pressures. On second thought I would rather not think about it. Not think about the imperfections in our complexities. Why not just paint these walls with compliments and thank you for every breathe that's ever graced my space. I saw you as a star, so I looked up to you and never really told you how god dam beautiful you are. Because I knew my words would cease to paint the sky like you do. Giving hope to children around this world that maybe, just maybe their dreams will grasp with reality. That they are small gifts on this earth wrapped in skin tight wrapping paper that exfoliates excellence. Small bundles of hope giving me reason to smile on days the sun forgets to show its face. You give hope to the frazzled packages that don't have a home to gift on empty holidays. You breathe there is a tomorrow into the yesterday's broken promises. I have never understood much about the constellations, but I think I do know that you are a stand alone constellation that shines brighter than the moon. You lit footsteps for those who don't cope well with darkness and eloquently gave direction to the dizzy, when all they wanted was to hear that they will, be okay. Burn promise into my eye ***** with your persistence presence. I know there will be cloudy days in my head. Days I won't see you above. I know you are there. What I don't know is why the hell I'm still looking into a light that burnt out 1 light year ago. I guess I'm simply here sharing words. I guess I never wanted to to accept that your light is gone.

I know a sailfish can swim up to 68 MPH
And that frost dragons are completely illegal in city limits.
I still don't know if what I'm saying is true or not. So I will free my thoughts for now, this dental cavity needs a cleanse

Sometimes I think-
about the world and if it's
ever wrong about things.

I wonder if sometimes
it splits apart the wrong people
and if it lets those who
continuously harm and are
toxic to each other's existence;
toxic to each other's happiness
stay together.

I wonder if it always expects us
to fix its mistakes.

But if the universe can mess with
love, how are we ever supposed
to find the capability to overrule it?

Nature shows me just how destructive
the world can be with its wind
and its hurricanes, its tornadoes
and its blizzards.
The same way it stretches and squeezes,
shrinks and grows,
compresses and exfoliates,
supplies us with and strips us of the
oxygen we need to breathe, it does so
to the love I feel for you.

It gets back at us for all of the
damage we've done to its beauty.
It slowly picks the leaves off of
our trees of interest the same way
we cut them down to build a home.

But this world is the world's home.
The same way we've stolen it, the world
steals you from me.
The same way we "try our best" to use
alternative energy, it plants you right in
front of me, teasing me the same way
we humans do to make it seem as if
we care about extinction.
It gives me insight to how it feels, being
forced to separate from the rest of its
universe, feeling singled out,
punished that it had to be cursed with us.

See you were my home. The same way
the world could live and grow within
itself I could do with you. The same way
the sun rose with light and the moon
stood by in the dark you did with me.
The same way the world could show
its destruction and warmth I showed my
insecurities and passions with you.

Our love was symbolic of nature. The
strength to power through anything in
its way. And the world decided it wanted
you for itself.

The world noticed your uniqueness and
potential and unshakeable love. The world
noticed your mind and your eyes and your
heart. The world noticed you.

So from now on the stars will paint your
smile in the sky. From now on the sky will
become the shade of blue that's deep in
your eyes, the shade that's a mix of the
ocean.
From now on the world will take care of you,
as you do to it. It will take you to different sights,
to see different sunsets, hike to the tops of
mountains tipped with warm and positive energy.

And the world will be enough for you.
And the same way you'll admire all of its
beauties and comforts and blessings, I
have done to all the different parts of you.

In a peaceful room with candles aglow,
She works her magic, gentle and slow.
Her hands, like whispers, glide with grace,
Easing tension, finding the place.

With soothing oils, she starts her art,
A dance of fingers, a healer’s heart.
Knots unravel, stress takes flight,
In her touch, the world feels right.

She exfoliates with tender care,
Removing worries, layer by layer.
A scrub of salt, a touch so kind,
Leaving softness, and peace of mind.

Her presence calm, her spirit bright,
In her hands, the day turns light.
This lady masseuse, with skill so true,
Bringing comfort, renewing you.