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It cuts through the room with knife in hand across the skin, it cuts

passes quick to bring myself out of the reference frame to cut the room with knife in hand across the skin, it cuts

so I lie inside its comforting ray of moonlight onto me but it passes quick to bring myself into the reference frame to cut the room with knife in hand across the skin, it cuts

when tranquility passes by time to go and shower my dirty skin with knife in hand across the skin, it cuts

#Poetry

in my head sits a house with a yard I've studied every detail of the windows and the embroidery on the door

inside I know the layout of every bookcase and how the sunlight garnishes the tile on the floor and even which hook to hang my coat upon I know the best way to slide my dirty boots at the door and I know every cupboard's dish that you had in place for I've been here many times before

but still I do not know the address of my home or the color that paints the trim by the gutter or even the shape of the driveway to the house with a yard.

#Poetry

our entire life we chase pieces of paper from test scores and homework answers to the final diploma and a walk on a stage and ticket stubs or programs to say “I'm lucky to have saw it first and before you,” we chase words to give life to our resume until all we are chasing is the final bow and we're awarded our final slip of paper saying “you lived a life,” and as we're lowered as if a curtain call there's the subtle whisper “she's lucky to have saw it first, and before us.”

#Poetry

When you are dead and buried no one will know the mountains you have climbed they will not know the passes that you took or the ridge lines you backed out of.

When you are dead and buried they will never know what got you over the mountain no one will even know how many times you fell or how much it took to struggle to your knees.

When you are dead and buried no one will know what brought you to that mountain they will not know what got you through that pass or what got you around that ridge line.

When you are dead and buried you'll be lucky if they know your name the day that you were brought into this world and the day you left it.

So sit now, and rest a while, write it all down, every peak and every mountain, leave it on the page for yourself or others, leave it on the map as pins or red lines.

So go now, and go forth, climb every peak and every mountain, leave a mark on your eyes or brain, leave a mark on yourself or others.

#Poetry

you tell me off for what you see is wrong that i'm malaligned or something worse maybe even a screw is lose in my tongue that'd explain why i talk a lot in verse

you think that i think i'm smart or a know-it-all of sorts that i'm a dropped piece of china or something worse maybe even a brain with too many things plugged in its ports that'd explain the overload of information that i rehearse

i think that you think that i trust you that'd explain your thoughts in reverse maybe even that i tell you all that is true but maybe i don't or something worse

#Poetry