Entire

It is in silence
You will find me
Hollowed from the
Inside out.

Bled dry
Of sanity and life
By the monster
Who claimed me
As her
Rightful prize.

A voice
Who was never
Satisfied.

The living entity
Only content in death.

A view from the other side

You came back broken
Lost
Between this place
And that place
Here and there
Somewhere.

No where.

Stuck in the rut
No chance of escape.

And feeling to blame.

You came back broken
And I
Don’t know why.

Windows

That we are
ever changing.

Chasing
the glint of fiery
dragons hiding
under cotton bed sheets
before the flames
engulf
all that was known.

Or flies.

Dead black dots of
nothingness.

Naked

Did I become frozen
amid disappointment,
unrelenting,
unceasing,
a permanent feature
of a folding universe
where this body
has betrayed
each and every one of you,
a mind
once beautiful
stripped bare.

Lessening

I live in the world of mitigated silence,

Terrified my words will fall
On deaf ears.

Dismissed without due care or attention
Before they reach out
To your soul.

And you fail to question,
And you fail to question,

Not knowing
Is easier to contemplate.

In your fitful mind I can continue as before.

Such a terrible lie in this silence

Canned Dreams

Spaghetti dreams
that I can fly,
I can fly,
I can fly
far away.

Hoops and engines
drowning in a
sun red,
for which
it was I
who bled,
tomato sauce. (Of some sort.)

If I could
but only fly.

I can fly,
I can.

If I close my eyes
and dream
and dream.

No cans
gathered,
to get in my way

to block out
a ray.

I fly.

Surely I must.

Containment

Afraid

of all this hope
of finding out

fearing

caught with the sensation
that's clawing away

scratching

scraping

tearing at my inside
with every ounce
of bitterness
it can muster

afraid

of the crash
and
the void

which fills my space
so perfectly.

Twisted

Strange
how you twisted
in my hand
as if
to bind yourself
to me
for eternity.

But you did not
mean it.

Strange
how you're twisting
in my hand
as if
to break yourself
free
from me.

I am not

The thought that you aren't.

Transfixed
in this nowhere place
where time is stationary.

Because you have made it so.

A single point.

And how you along the way
have simply become
the observer.

With a thought
singular
consuming.

Not that you are.
Not any more.

No.

This time one which says
you
have ceased to be.