Surrender
And be borne
Falter
Heart breaks open
Drowning
Without you by my side
Poems
Spring makes me a bitch
This pain is epic or nonexistent from one minute to the next.
Forget to be sad or happy but consciousness is a curse.
Unhappy me is a vicious tongue waiting for an opportunity to cut.
To destroy and bask in the surprised looks and startled laughter.
Waiting to take it too far or right up to the line but not over.
Waiting for you to take offense so that I can push further.
Profoundly unhappy makes me seem normal.
Like all the rest but honesty in the hands of a unhappy masochist with nothing to lose is a blade wielded with glee.
Join me in my pain and dance a blood frenzy of broken hopes.
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April is Poetry Month
Otherwise known as my annual foray into hell to have a foot race with Orpheus. You know, just to see the look on his face.
But seriously, Poetry Month is when I write an enormous amount of poetry. Last year it was 3 poems a day plus I was posting my audio novel Split Sky.
This year I’m trying to write a novel in the Split Sky universe, plus the episodic Valentine’s Day, along with normal posts. And I’m working on a tabletop role-playing campaign set in the Split Sky universe. (my players don’t know that, they think it is a normal published version of another world.)
I’m busy is what I’m saying. So what am I doing for Poetry month you ask?
Why, writing FOUR poems per day, of course. Because I’m a masochist and a poet first. Plus I find this exercise is beneficial. It had helped me to observe and see inspiration in anything. From turns of phrase to visual quirks to the way a name is said. All of it becomes my muse.
And its perfect timing really. I’m not in a romantic relationship with anyone right now. Or rather I love many people, but I’m not with any of them because the universe sucks. So, instead of being happy, I can pull from the deepest wells of heartbreak and sadness as well as joy.
Sob, weep for me.
But seriously, Poetry Month. This will be fun. Or horrible. Probably both, if I’m being honest.
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Nerve endings wake
Cold shivers its way across the ridges of my spine
soft breath caresses and holds
words spoken at a volume at once too quiet and a clamor of joyous ringing
this long drawn out moment of perfection free of any thought but desire
tension falling away with a touch
And a the palpable feeling
of connection
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Last struggle
Soft rays beat through the falling night
Waking in themselves a hope of a new dawn
Rain before the fall, light before the darkness, sorrow before love
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Delightful carnivore
She’s soft and she bites
What’s not to like?
Affectionate and strong
Love’s to dance and to play
Darling girl, what’s not to like?
She growls and she runs
It’s all just for fun
What’s not to like?
She watches and waits
Always happy to see me
What’s not to like?
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A goddess leaves
All doors clang shut. All windows disappear. Even in dreams she is gone and a future disappears like smoke
The pain is unimaginable.
I would have torn down the heavens and stormed the gates of hells. Just for the possibility of us. And now, all that’s left are words tumbling from frozen lips, spoken to an empty room.
I am shattered. A thing of broken hopes and dreams. A memory fading.
Lost amidst the ruins of almost but never were.
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Lost in the quiet morning
In my youth
I thought to remake the world or burn it
to break it and rebuild
but somehow those dreams slipped away
replaced by just trying to be content
to find a way clear of sadness
looking for and finding
failing and loss
breaking and broken
it was I that was lost.
And somehow I woke
but always craving the dream
a world where you loved me
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Hearts fall apart
Ropey muscles unspooled from the heart like a cat’s cradle
this pain seesawing between obliteration and oblivious
my mind following its well worn path to you
blocked by uncertainty,
while I await a verdict or a verb,
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The nows don’t stop
That voice, that twitch, that used to mean
that touch, that breathe, that shiver
that loss, that reaching, that overcorrection
that sobbing, that endless search for traction, that waiting
that tired, that sleep, that waking
that sob, that long look back, that hope
Pelgris 