Misplaced

Tongue shackled to the moon-
A butterfly with wings clipped
And a bat without hearing;
Nature split and broken
Away from how it was destined-

But still in the dark walks the sun,
Tossing around its nourishment
To a system whose cycle is forgotten;
Time and death an illusion for the soul
Searching for what was once made to be whole,
Not lying in pieces of a tarnished past-

What else is to become of an outcast
Fallen from everything that was once expected,
But peace only found in afterlife?

---

Check out my new book Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!
 

Moving Forward

I plant a dozen roses
at the foot of weathered granite,
and do not weep for a loss
that believed absence
means more room for life.

---

Check out my new book, Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!

Monster of Mind

This monster of mine
will not get me alone
if i choose not to follow
while i still have the power to do so.
I will not allow it to turn my
ink stains into blood spills
or my potted plants into wildflowers.
I have known the fear
of movies played on blank screens
and refuse to see
everything that was never
meant to be there.

---

Check out my new book, Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!

Foggy

There is
a specific kind of sadness
that rolls with the fog
in the moonlit hours
of your mind
when the sun’s still shining.

Action

You do not have to see to believe;
Many go their entire lives never
knowing what lies beneath the flesh.
The same is true to pain;
You do not have to see it
to know that it is there.
It can manifest in silence, hidden
in the dark, like the mind’s magic trick,
never stepping into the spotlight,
only controlling the costume changes
safely behind the stage curtains,
studied not beyond a name in the credits.

Nightmares

I hope you never have to
feel the weight of wrists dug deep
into a freshly polished bed of nails.
I hope you never have to
breathe through a chest filled with concrete,
a saddened struggle between its cracks.
I hope you never have to
dance with the devil
to the fast-paced drum of your own heartbeat.
I hope you never have to
swim through your sweat
to find a place to sleep without the fear
of suffocating to make it there.

The Only Thing I Knew

I used to leave the window down on road trips
because I was scared of the silence
whenever the music quieted.
Scared of the runaway thoughts
hitchhiking along the highway
in my mind,
thumbs poised and ready
to jump at the first chance of an open door.
I was scared of the semi-trucks
looming over something so small,
so breakable,
when I could not hear them approaching.
I used to leave the window down on road trips
because I feared the quiet
might never leave.
And now that it’s gone,
I sometimes miss
knowing the only way to smother it,
is to make a sound.

---

Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

Anxious Comfort

I’m screaming in the ocean,
letting the salt corrode the words
off my tongue,
and spiral into small bubbles
that leaves you with only the sound
of a faint whisper breaking the surface.
I breathe in with the intent
to fill the empty pockets that my lungs
were not strong enough
to give you the air you needed.
I tried to give you these words
but was muffled by the weight
of suffocating in the silence
that hugged me
when no one else could.

---

Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

Between the Highs

This poem is written in that space
floating away from sobriety
coming down from the high
of talking to my escape
and returning to the beast
that’s tried to drive me away.
Depression is the wedge
trying to get between me
and the only one strong enough
to push back my demons
when they outweigh
even the toughest parts of me.
This poem is written in that space
between hello and goodbye
when I’m struggling to exist
without you next to me.

---

Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

Reasons

I’m running out of reasons to smile
in a world that works backwards,
and sad eyes miss the feeling
of being praised
for anything other than their gloss.
I’m running out of reasons to laugh
in a world that moves forward
and forgets there was ever
a symphony of happiness
to dance to.
I’m running out of reasons
to keep searching for them
in a world that denies
answers to the questions
I want to ask.

---

Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!