Not you, but meNot you, but meI've crossed every stone,A trail through the bay to your heart.Tossed among sunken ships,Just a wreck in your deepest harbor.You're the coral I cut my knee onAnd the salt in its wound.I swam over you at low tide,Should have known not to.Torn at the seam,No comfort in the folds.Just an old towel hanging outOn the porch to dry.I'm a stagnant bay,sand trapped under my tongue.No words to undo.You drew a line as youwalked away from me.Further and further,A distant island hidden by the clouds.
homeMy heart is tetheredbetween wrought ironand quick tempersIn the house, a man was waiting:silver skin, sharp chineating the remains with his corbeau mouthMy cloaked heart slips through the gate,and past March, April, Junemy palms are stained with the smell of rust,dust and rotting wood under my tongue,unopened mail behind each ribWhat's heavy will hurt.I took a small boat awayHalf way thereI lost my oars(abandoned)Flung and tossed like a childinto the channel"Are you afraid of what's below?"you're just froth below the horizon.you're just a speck in timeThe dark whale should swallow me whole,but instead I lay my head in the day's end,like resting on warm thighsMy mother's own.
An owlWhen I was youngerWe moved into the new housemy father built.In the evening an owl flew in.With heavy wingsit threatened us,cutting through the darkwith hardly any room for flight.My sister and Iheld our breathand played dead until myfather came home.When he saw us he laughedwhile we lay stilland then opened all the windowsto let it fly out.
deservethe poisoned branch,I pulled myself up onto see another.now an ant nest in my heartyou stepped in andleft distraught.
By myselfWhen I'm aloneI steal pieces of night.Without another to share,I eat by myself.The meat is spoilt.Only acid in my throat when I wake.
without a goodbyethis is the last time.just empty space and time passingbetween us.I am at the other end of the room,and you have opened all the windowsand doors to let yourself out.
the netI'm rot.Was sliced at the gill,thrown near the rocksunder sun and flies.Flesh exposed, a little girl with no t shirt on.Dead amongst scavengers.lost my armor all scattered likeand soaked into the stone.Swam into the net.Thought it would get me there fast.
KnivesknivesMy life through the glass,a million pieces scattered (splinters in my thumbs)A spectrum (colours of fear)Forced through me like knives.Here, smoke and doubt intersects false light.A journey queued. Where I had begun.This time aloneWhat am I fighting for?
:apart:Home again today.Where there is no relief.Not to slowly kiss.Once here was my love to fall into,now my days are just steep.Tonight I sleep alone.and time did not settle me.
a conversation with Uncle SamWould you rather it be us or them?I say next question please as if to loosen the noose my tongue has becomeand You say speaking of, all good things come with a price and I try my hardest not to disagree.Faith is the ultimate form of patriotism so I stand up a little taller as military jets fly overhead and baptize the sky with their presence.You say the best defense is a good offense. But what about the bombs? The fat boys and little men we scatter with soft voices and big sticksand You just smile that smile,and by now I feel that the silence is somewhat appropriate. We drop bombs because we all want to feel a little more like god sometimes, and what can be more American than that?
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisDo not assume (if I hold the door for you),that I am making a statementabout your inabilitiesto open the door for yourself.If you hold it for me,I'll say 'thankyou'.Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),that I am underestimatingyour earning capacityas a woman.If you invite me out for a meal,you're paying.Do not assume (if I defend your rights),that I am belittlingthe attempts that you have madeto defend your rights yourself.If you defend my rights,I'll consider you human.
It Is Bad to Be [READ DESCRIPTION]It is bad to be fat, too skinny, average, curvy.Blonde = Stupid, Black = Emotional, Brunette = Boring, Red = Soulless, Colorful = Too CreativeIt is bad to be gay, trans, heterosexual, lesbian, asexual, pansexual, demisexual, bisexual, etc.It is bad to be Christian, atheist, Catholic, Agnostic, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Polytheistic, Monotheistic, etc.It's bad to be a different race:Black = Dirty or Nigger, White = Racist or Cracker, Hispanic/Latino/Latina = Illegal, Asian = AlienIt is bad to be a woman, man, or genderless.It is bad to be homeless, middle class, rich.There is a judgement for every single personWhether you believe prejudice people do not exist, or do exist.Whether you believe you are not good enough, or too good for anybody.Whether you believe humans are created equal, or not.Whet
unthey call me tide-breaker.my name frequentswhores' mouths,and they speak of mebetween the sailors' maps.I am salt and brinebeneath fingernails,the oncoming threatof dark clouds that hangtheir gallows above the ocean.I'm the enigma,the split-secondflash of lighton the sea's cusp;they only ever thinkthey see me,but I am always there.oh yes,I've seen theirdirtied skin,their weathered faces,that lustful thirstin the eyes of men surrounded by water.it is only natural, I suppose,for those bound in chainsto grow fond of the metallic clacking.it becomes all they have.and I, well,I am only hereto watch and play my part.their wives at homewill look seawardand sighand wonderbut it is Iwho will have someone to hold.they say mermaidsdrown unworthy sailors,but they never acknowledgethat most men simplythrow themselves overboardat the temptation of something beautiful.
True StrengthLies Not In Body or Mind.For physical Strength is fleetingand will wane with age.The Mind eventually becomes flaccid and memories ultimately fade.It lies not with just heroes and dare I say villains, but civilians like me and like you.Because no matter the situation, however subtle or brutal, all that matters is the struggle, the fight that let you come to be.How you weathered against the prevailing storm or the soft lapping waves,you determine who you are.That is true strength:Choosing your own destiny.
Brown Eyes Compliments, and AnalogiesBecause I'm sick of people saying there aren't any.Your brown eyes are like the deep intoxication of campaign wine, bubbling with hazing richness and expensive taste.Your brown eyes are like the color of mahogany wood- comforting and home-steady toughness that lets me know you will be the beams of supporting me.Your eyes remind me of Dove chocolate, smooth, creamy, delectable, and melting.The color of brown eyes remind me of mountain terrain and nature, something subtle, but beautiful in every form and season.Brown eyes make me think of Devil's cake, taunting and tempting, curtained by black lashes, the symbol of rich seduction.When brown eyes delve in love, they become the color of a leather book, promising a story of loyalty, long-life, and devotion.Your brown eyes remind me of mysterious secrets, dark to cover the pain of ignorance, opaque to cover to want of another.Brown eyes are like the stable ground, steadier and prepared to embrace you when you fall, into a nurturing a
wolfYou resemblesomeone I once knew.A wolf in the darkpressed against my window again.