Judas

 I have committed no crime to compare

yet still

my heart cries out to him

survive!

do not deny him once again!

live still, and 

speak his name with tenderness

christ forgave the hands and spear which pierced his side

how much more would he forgive thee!

I wish, in moments of clarity,

pleading with Judas to yet live, 

I could hear the same words

echoed back at me

Live! And yet utter his name with tenderness!

As the Lord does utter yours in heaven!

Space Junk

maybe I'm space junk

sad pictures of worthless objects

orbiting in a galaxy of stars

today my anger is a plastic water bottle

victim to science

and the endless vacuum of space

I didn't go to work today

because my science forgot to make the motivation chemical

there is electricity in my brain

I have neurons and I don't know what that means

my depression 

is a water bottle in space

what a journey it is

to be human

filled. . . ?

what is a space without intention?

lost

found. in a million different ways

spring 2019

religion

will not be contained within letters

it will not even be contained within me

religion                                       

in itself                            

can become containment if we allow it to be                     

       I've become a hollow religion                       

seeking the sanctity of hallowed ground                

I'm becoming an empty container

thinking that what I was meant to hold will save me

               stagnant

                            remnants

                                          cling to my walls

I hoard them jealously                                                                         

and don't understand                                                     

perhaps I did once

maybe I never have

insignificantly significantly significant

I am cosmically small. 
A tiny, insignificant speck of a girl lost to the rivers of time, helpless to the vast expanse of existence. 

And yet. . . I house thought, and heart, and spirit. 

My body is a beacon of billions of microorganisms. I do not understand my utter insignificance, but I attempt to, and isn't that significant? 

Today, I feel special as I look at the molded yellow walls of the bathroom. I feel important as my knotted curls drip water and conditioner. I could not change the rotation of the Earth if I tried, yet I am a part of the universe; That is significant.

After Image

Some part of me wants to be whole, however, my heart disagrees. My heart and my mind and my throat want to be erased. They want to disappear without a trace. To cease existing seamlessly. Balanced and beautiful in death. 

My tongue wants silence. Heady heavy silence. The kind that melts on your shoulders and stiffens your joints. My eyes, soulful soulless little creatures, want to talk. To convey through dance and sing through sorrow. 

I won't let them. 

I won't let them. 

I can't let them. 

Save my hands, that's all I ask. They alone have seen all I have done.

withered and dried

I feel as if I have somehow forgotten how to write. My vocabulary casts shadows in a barren wasteland. My metaphor has metamorphosed and died. I have no drive, no life, no will. Is this how it ends? My hands on the wheel, foot on the pedal and emergency brake on?
I'm empty. Straining for dust bunny verbs and adjectives that have faded in the sun. 
Nothing is won through my misery. All is lost in my hope.

5/25/19 1:21 PM

Wrack my brain of what remains 
Scattered splatters of dead dying thought 
Lost to the lock and chain of my fear 
Nothing is here between my ears 
I've burned every cell and swallowed the ash 
At last, reminded and reunited with what I have forgotten 
Kindle the coal, reignite my soul 
Dare not leave the barren plain of my home until I have bled my bones dry 
Memory bleached in the sun 
Remembered not for my deeds, but rather what I was to the eye

shallow water

Stagnant water is all I have become.
 A surface lost to my reflection.
What lies beneath that mirrored surface? 
That dusky dusty unmoving water? 
Do I dare ripple the pond, stir the seabed, release the river? 
I must, I must, or I shall eventually dry and die; ascend I say, and fill anew. 

My words make no sense, a jumble of rhyme and smudged ink.
Flowers heavy laden with dew. 

Disturb the glass surface of my mind. 
Treat my thought as clouds, lose my light to rain and time. 

I'm tired- only tired will not explain my formless shape in the sand. 
Exhaustion can only draw in breath for words that will whimper when released. 

Help me I cry, never in an order that is new, never in a way that is understood

the chill of a Happy graveyard

Every time I wish I was dead 
I write a little letter inside my head 
Of wishes and history 
Things better left unsaid 

Seldom do I find the time to rhyme 
These secret little thoughts 
Or allow them space to shine 

They're rather a selfish bunch I think 

For hoping for a day 

The world would be better if I stayed