The Shakes

When she gets a day off, she doesn't know what to do with it; angst com-Pounding 

In her gut...

And erupt, 

Until all Melts down- 

Cools again. 

Once the ego subsides, 

She notices her hands shaking, assuming it's from the 

Coffee and excedrin, 

Coffee and excedrin, 

Coffee and excedrin, 

That riddles her heart and mind. 

Headaches undo her, 

As if she has always been broken, 

Though we know I am not. 

Or I am. 

Or I am not...

But, when, if, and...

Life goes on, days go on...

And we find strength in each other 

If we can focus more on just that. 

I am not broken, 

Though I have been broken, 

Over, and over, 

As if to disassemble me, only to find the one, that lay underneath, 

A now rumbled location. 

Clearing, 

Clearing, 

Debris, with breeze, and motion, 

And life, and dance, 

And love, 

And 

  Letting go. 

Of everything we've thought to have known. 

My hands tremble and I watch them. 

Life has shown me a path, and I have taken it, 

Heeding now..

Whatever it is, that path should be. 

Fear. Love. 

Balance, like conservatism, like health. 

Martyrdom...rested some days. 

Somedays, the very vein of all I do become, and sometimes, 

Love takes over me. 

This is life. 

We sacrifice. 

And Hell, is this our Hell? We we ever be able to tell, 

What doth indeed, lie beyond; Propoganda-less. 

What of God? 

As simply, I look now at Billboards as if they are implanted programs. 

I stop. 

I see. 

The headaches come. 

I rest. 

Repeat. 

I adjust. 

And create defeat through love. 

Balance. 

Peace. 

Harmony. 

And not forgetting to take any of it too seriously...

Because already, 

There will be too many days, 

That simply, I will. 

Life's Breath

Night turns, 

In one moment, 

As looks confess everything, 

And I just wish I was home, 

Being loved. 

Instead, 

I watch my surroundings; living...

And watching the living, sinning; is that not, I swear, what we do best? 

I have vowed, never to love 

As a mess again, 

Yet is it not the way I love? 

And do I simply calm all calamity in me revolved around, 

To understand Love, 

At it's secret distance? 

Because respect and love seem to go the most hand in hand, so I wait, patient now. 

Or so trying; aren't we all? 

I find my self at a 3am Dine-in. 

Escaping what I walk away from, and revelations constantly. 

I am afraid of loving someone 

Who will only be so into me. 

Who will lie. 

Who will abuse. 

Or neglect and remain distant. 

And any, and all, 

Of the above. 

You see...She...made me wait. Charmed me into hypnosis, a snake. 

Beautiful. Alluring. Alarming. Quick. 

And then there was Atom. Who lied, defacing good man's stride to what I felt I could trust at the time.

And Mr. Texas. Only sweet enough to "get this" but never called...

...no he refused to call...after months, of us playing, his game. 

You think I need another name? Another "pretend me" all the way, 'til I have nothing left in me anymore?

I do not want to love you, 

Simply because I do, 

Whoever it is, that you actually are. 

Who ever it is, 

That you actually are. 

You see, loving you, 

Will only cause in me, anguish and wait. 

Like it always has. 

I have waited for you since the day we met, 

And since them given up. 

You do not need me, when I will most certainly need you. 

You will need your space, when I will need to be understood. 

Held. 

Loved. 

Yet you being here, 

Primes me for disaster. 

I can not imagine that you will ever love me, the way that I could love you...

Yet still, I can not be apart of a world 

That holds no jewels...

Or can I...

Just to feel loved? 

I would die, only to be deceived. 

And that is why you intrege me. 

To the depths of perpetuating any securities I previously had...

and straight to the beliefs that you would never love, 

A creature like me.

See...

Creatures like me, burn and ache...

But always on our own.

Because it is not in many any a man, to battle with us, 

What we take on. 

Sure, you wear that armour, but your vulnerabilities deep- a place I'd like to be, but would you love me there? 

Could you? 

Silly thing. 

Silly thing . 

Silly thing...

The Unsaid Writ

When you opened the door

I had been telling myself I wasn't ready

I had waited a long

And waded

Assuming the worst

And living the worst

In all the time, before and after

That we would meet. 

You have been, a face in my air, 

A rhythm in my beat...

And while yes, I have many, 

There was never a time, 

I didn't breathe you. 

You. 

And only you. 

Far away, 

As the piano bends and sways, 

I listen and find floating revelations 

In the transcendence- 

No longer what was...

I await to walk through, 

And declare....

That my wretchedness, simply melts away, 

Into the twilligjt evening, and the dancing stars...

And the far away things, 

That have always been ours...

If we but just see, 

And let THAT BE. 

In cinder, 

I cry, dis-shoveled, shaken, 

Trying to quickly shrug off 

The imbalances that had already taken. 

We breathe. Beat. Hand to chest, your bare there, and I let you see me. Afraid and all. Streaming. 

Afraid and all. Dancing. Keys. 

And ready....

For when you say no, to flee. 

Pretending I am not broken. 

But the beauty always entices me...

Right on back, to enrichment, 

Like a fairy beholden some cosmic magic, 

I am a moth to the light. Curious. Reborn once more. 

    Still human. 

And that is where the pain will always remain and pull me away. 

Still human, alas. 

A blessing and Majesty 

With Travesty inevitably built in. 

It has been the thing we run from of generations, 

And it has also been the porcelain layer of our ages, 

In women's hearts and faces...

In man's emotions and nuances...

To love thee. 

...to love 

       Thee. 

And never to put, that part of our face down. To deny thee. To deny me. 

Would Mean to put my love for you down. 

And while I don't want to love so much, 

I do, 

Too much. 

That is my lot. 

And you had caught my eye, so very long ago. First time, and all. 

And again. 

And again. 

And yet...

Again....

Howls of the Forest

I long to begin to scream out,
at the epidamy and beyond of my lung capacity..
at the breaking points
being hit
too many times
and again.

I can't tell if I am in a becoming
or dying,
or a "find yourself all over again,

as my wings tremble,
and I make like I am alive..

because I am.

As the world actualizes around me,
and this little gutter rat grows up, watching the world change...

after a while, realizing it didnt change, so much asit was always a trap...
and education...
just the illusion of something.

I will tell you what is tangible though...
Hopes.
And dreams.

They are tangible because you can feel them INSIDE YOU,
underneathe
just beneathe,
the surface of everything

you will ever do.

As I approach my brigde...
I observe a worn and tattered persevearing limp.
I still have my eyes, legs, hands and feet-

They have not killed
me yet.

The hope of something big...like comfort..
or safety...
and love...

They die often, but always transmute back into itself.
When I collapse...

I collapse into Love...
Into everything it has taken for me to get here...

At this marker on my journey..
Where no way, is yet shown,
and yet still,
I have been summoned to wait.

Screaming would free, like tribal howls,
the damage I have stumbled upon...
across the earth..

and within the universe that is me.

I am pieces of who I used to be, when I was strong.
Remnants lost so many generations ago.
My knees are weakening, and chest breaking....heaves, from the screaming of my soul

to just "please let me go; please!!
let me go!"

I am a prisoner.
Unlovable in my own detainment...
As i tiptoe through bacteria and simply shade out the existane of the Demons.

Did you know,
I...

Love..

But I can't see his face.

and it scares me, as much as falling in love,
the beaten path,
of a beaten woman...
and an ignorant bunch around to the sacrifice she always bore to example by leadership;

we were always a gluttonous race; 

 a gluttonous race... 

And maybe I'm too Gluttonous for your perfection. Or maybe, that is simply what's fake. 

What is not fake, is the bruises. Or lack of calls. Or crying. Or the lying, that you had nothing to do with...

And neither do I want you to. 

But the world is twisted and I have never been a girl unburned. 

You will burn me to be selfish, because that is what I have been taught men do. 

And I will continue to die a slow death, 

As I have been taught too. 

And together, I may never know your love, but instead a distant memory. 

And I will be strong. 

Because I have to. 

On the Mountain

I am not perfect

Ever between worlds. 

I have washed my hands in the many black sins, liquids that eat and tear down our minds. 

I am scared and coping inexhaustibly 

As words sink in; 

I'm running from a gas already caught me. 

Delicate and frayed, is there any way I can be loved without indeed martyring myself? My ears ring. 

My heart gets wet and tears leak, dot .. 

  Drip. 

Inexaustably weak, 

I must stand on my own two feet, compounded chest caving, and that girl rising the best she can, has been taught, 

She will never be loved, the way she had deserved; 

And so, as youth dies with me, in me, as me, my bloodied death, a body 

As my inner child weeps, for a last time on her knees. 

This child does not know the mommy to whom she dies against, for they are incarnate souls...

And they didn't have a chance to fully re-connect. 

Her mother will always be more brilliant in her 5 year old eyes, 

Than the teenager in her, ever knew she'd be. 

I stand now. 

At the Rubicon. 

In me, is indeed the deathly hollow, of such the fate, that is before us now; 

So and so much, 

Is at Hand. 

I would fall in love, and watch the world topple if I knew it would bring me peace. 

The same I would fight til I die, if it meant peace for another. 

The notion of Sacrifice is a Long-Human wound; it is both, still prevalent, and one of many archetypical seasons of the tarot, which reflect the many passages of life, and "initiation" cycles. 

I tremble. Nerves a little rigid. Can't escape fast enough from the crumbling away of society, 

As I keep watch, 

And wait to ring the bell. 

Home-stress' Shaking Joints

She couldn't have meant much; you never called. 

The men in our generation, too busy falling, 

To help a tired young woman up. 

Who am I, 

But nothing? 

a festering silence, 

Unheard. 

Ears perched, 

Heart hurt. 

Eyes, around. 

My dirty hands, continue hauling. 

My worn out chest; 

I am tired of showing you my mess. 

Tired of attempting to love ever again. 

So intrinsically sad, from the years already spent. 

From the lies and the hands, and please, by all means, 

Use me, but don't love me, 

Said no woman ever. 

Save the world

No more than I can save the wretched oozing pieces of me left, 

That even should they remain lovable, who then could qualify, I ask myself that...

Unable to comprehend, already forfeited...secretly hoping...

The next game, 

Will yield. 

Yield. 

Yield. 

Fawn of Innocence

Please, Dear Child..

Find me a heavenly ground! 

My spirit is forsaken, with the stricken of what is to come, while I alone, am merely, 

The Watchman. 

There are many of my kind. 

I hide, 

In your delight so; 

The reminder of the sweet things I may have today, and tomorrow, 

But likely there will be a time, those things will come to pass. 

Maybe even, I may live long enough, to see their return. 

I stay hidden, 

In the fine essence of the meadows, 

Where my soul will always know life once more. 

Around the Nazi Camps arise, 

But I will forever sing the songs of my people, in my heart, as I go on. 

We wash. 

And wash over...

And I come to somehow once more. 

I am lying on the floor 

Unstricken with blows. 

There is sanity, 

And safety, 

In you here, Dear. 

In you here, Deer.