I am just a shell.
I don't have much life inside of me.
Well maybe a little sticky mess
that resembles the form of a snail
trying to squirm my way out.
I only need one foot for that.
That's a good thing because I severed the other
foot attempting to come out of my coffin from an early burial.

What happens when a snail realizes she is just a snail?

She says, "Ok, I'm a snail.  I'll do what snails do."
Slow and steady wins the race...

So why do I feel like a red tailed hawk looking for an opening to soar through?

Acquiescing to a snail's life
is the same as having my wings clipped.

*I may be caged, jailed, grounded...but in my dreams I fly high towards the endless horizon.
Leaving that slimy shell prison in my dust.

My heart bleeds tears
So yours doesn't have to.
It opens right up to every piece of joy
and sadness and injustice and inspiration.
Gushing tears....flood waters for the dramatic.
No use in trying to hold them back.
They burst all barriers and reinforcements.

My heart beats pain....thump thump...thump thump
Louder now. THUMP THUMP....THUMP THUMP
Innocent children destroyed in all corners of society.
Pump. Pump. Pump.
Poisoned by our own government with lies  
Imprinted at a young age and we believed them. For a while.
Pump. Pump. Pump.

An aorta so large that tears mainline my existence.
It bleeds for you, your children, me, my children, our animals, our planet.
Some days it stops all together in a moment of silence for the ethereal
shedding their tears as rain on us all.
No tourniquet could stop the strength of my pulsing heart
My forceful, stubborn tears.

As I bleed out
these tears nourish
the ugliness around my shell.

Souls who are born with a heart like mine
encase an ***** strong enough to hold, release and replenish
tears of pain and joy over and over again.
It allows us to not just see beauty but breathe it.
It allows us to feel love so intensely
that our teary reservoirs are life forces beating Universally.

My heart bleeds tears so yours doesn't have to.
Apply pressure with an embrace or your own beaming light so my heart beats in unison with yours.

She got a ticket to nowhere
and bought it with a bucket of dreams.
Dreams that were traded
for a vast plain of empty seeds.

She planted drops of hope
and watered the fields
with devotion and attention.
Only to be left with dead seedlings
of bitter dissension.

With her soul account emptied and bare
she had invested everything
for a plentiful harvest to
sustain nutrition and share.
She plowed and plowed
But the sprouts she tried to cultivate
Stayed dormant and bowed
throughout a lifetime of relentless drought.

The sun still rises
and there is water from my tears
with enough attention and some discarded fears
Perhaps one little seed will take hold
and enter the world
with new blooms
that beautifully unfold.

Back in the saddle all suited up
she figures
maybe
just maybe
if I don't give up
With just one seed from her pocket
buried deep in a survivor's locket
she patted it down
and drenched it with faith
Called on her angels and down came the rain.

I wonder how you love me
when I'm a total mess?
Or how you wait patiently
sopping up tears with tenderness?

How is it that you love me
when I spit venom of blame?
Or turn my heart on and off
siphoning life from our veins?

How is it that you love me
when I'm always on edge?
Or when I'm crying then raging
with one toe over the ledge?

How is that you love me
when you watch me try to escape?
A dysfunctional drain swirling
with anger and self-hate.

What must it be like
to love a woman like me?
I bet it's hard to watch
the abuse from my worst enemy;  me.

I wonder how you love me?
Tell me please.
Lucky me to have the heart
of the man who sees all of me.