one day
one day, somebody will fall irrevocably in love
with the clumsiness of your limbs
and your uneven fringe
and the way that no matter what may burden you
you plaster a smile upon your lips
the way that you stay up
until 3 am
reading a novel that has you hooked
almost as hooked as you are to them
someone will fall in love
with your scars from the past
and the way that sometimes the world is too harsh
and you can't hold back the tears
and you won't have to
not any more
the way that pastel swirls of moonlight
are your only road to comfort
and the way that one day
in the rarest of moments
you might tell them
that you love them

When my heart beats
aggravated and aggressively
through my chest and clinks
my muscles, my blood flushes
my flesh and fools my mind
into thinking it is more than man.
When the words will not walk the plank
it isn't due to being dope or blank
perhaps it is my agitated state,
Flushed with flustered feelings
flooding forward and festering in the fetal position
inside my cells, banging the brains out of each membrane.
The last of my nerves being burned by a blessing
in disguise, as they often come,
When I bite my tongue.

I do remember vividly
The four a.m. conversations,
Feelings explained implicitly,
Plans made without obligations.

Toes dig into the rocks and sand
As we gaze up at the bright stars.
Nothing about that night was planned
Though it left us with unseen scars.

I remember the excitement
Of my phone lighting up the night
With your sweet words of enticement.
The fire in me would ignite.

And our flame was a bonfire
That lit up the world for miles
At once our warmth and our pyre.
We quickly burned with our smiles.

my body is not a temple
it is not some sacred holy place
    commanding respect
    and receiving as much.

it is not a sanctuary
    open and accepting and
warm for those who are welcomed
a quiet home for lost souls.

it is not a shield, or a cage
    or a home, or a journal
    or a dead language
    or a canvas.

my body is nothing,
    feels like nothing,
feels wrong and sad and unwelcoming -
my body is a shack
a wrecked interpretation of a house

my body is a shack in the cold
no heat to provide anyone who passes by
    empty and crooked,
    creaking in the wind,
leaky roof and broken windows,
a wrecked impression of a house
it asks for no visitors, and no visitors ask for it

and it sits, alone, not knowing the warmth of the temple,
    of the sanctuary, of the house
but sometimes it - my body - wonders, craves
not the desire of visitors, but the desire to desire,
a yearning to know a yearning,
    just some spark of familiarity
    just some hint of desire for company
    and the ability to change to the home it is told it can be inside
inside this wrecked imitation of a house.

"what's that? you can't get out of your bed?
too weak to be alive, too lazy to be dead?
well! take your zoloft effectively
just inhibit reuptake selectively
and soon you'll have the energy
to end your life impulsively
or be rid of feelings entirely
a chipper, cheery half-zombie"

"your panicking fits interfere with your day?
i'll lay out a feast, a benzo-buffet
ativan, klonopin, xanax oh my!
not just for those who are too scared to fly!
pop two and kiss all of your worries goodbye
and your memory, too, if you come to rely
on hours spent watching your life pass by
just try and object through that stubborn tongue-tie"

"your circadian rhythm is not quite right
you're asleep with the sun and awake in the night
so take one of these twice before closing your eyes
and wait for the dreams that will doubtless arise
too vivid and real to know truth from lies
and the nightmares will be an unpleasant  surprise
but stopping abruptly is duly unwise
so just find your stars in trazodone skies"

We had heard about the big steel-beasts.
For weeks, vicious rumors had spread
like wildfire across the steppes.
Nothing was safe in their path.
They left death and destruction,
thousands of deflowered
women & girls
in their wake.

Late last night,
we heard the clanking,
felt the rumbling,
the shattering of earth
outside the city skirts,
then dead quiet, nothing,
not a single sound.

Early this morning,
Svetlana stumbled-delirious,
dazed toward the center of town.
Blackened eyes & missing teeth
adorned her bruised face,
dried blood-lines faded
from the corners of her mouth.
It appeared as if her jaw was broken,
vacancy was written in her eyes.
A crimson stain on her torn skirt
marked  the cleft between her legs.
A ******* arm band
hung around her neck.
She didn't say a word.

We heard the clanking again,
felt he rumbling,
the shattering of earth
as the Tigers left our village.
And by the way Svetlana looked,
quickly realized the rumors were true.

I won't love you like a man will love you.
I won't love you
Like a woman will love you either.
I wish I could say
I fit something I knew a word for
In terms of love.
But no.
I will love you
Like the ground loves the rain after a drought.
I will love you like the moon
Loves its little glimpses of the sun
As it slips behind the earth again,
Lovers
So similar but so different,
Never in the same place at once.
I will love you
In terms of Nature
I will love you
In terms of
Universe.
But
I cannot love you in terms of man
Or woman
Unless you mean
All that either has ever been.
And I think I should apologize-
I think you should know that
If you think this is different because I am a woman,
That's not why.
It is different because I am a cyclone,
An earthquake,
A natural disaster of hurt and hope,
And I love you like the planets love the star
That gravity bends them towards
And that
Is not how any man or woman I've ever met
Has loved before.
And I am not sure if I will ever meet another one
Like me.
And I am not sure
I would even want to.