the stove hums in the back of the room while black amber and cloves linger...
ever wonder how you were brought to the exact spot you rest?
i want to have poppies planted at my funeral.
i want to be bad, big, bold and sensitive.
mini poem (smaller than a pocket poem)
"i may never fully experience life as a happy person.
my dad is still dead and certain days just drag on for
something longer than a century and outweighing elephants.
but at least i'm honest and honesty gets you farther
than a rainy Wednesday with lukewarm coffee,"
cried Torrye.
piano solo
i sit and sink into my mundane thoughts
stuck between letters and run on sentences
(i begin to breathe. just calm and breathe)
today i realized that my life
is what i make it and if i want to cry over the beauty
my living room fireplace brings, so be it.
if i want to dance, silly in the rain with just socks on,
just let me. i can sit in this uncomfortable body
someone gifted me or i can study the sounds
the wind makes,
it's my choice.
poem
i feel indifferent, i don't feel anything until I explode
(but i feel it all, all the time)
i belong in the in between. a space like Earth, but different....
the s p a c e s between words, the gap between each ripple
a space like Earth, but different....
i can see through the murky fog and Winter mess
"I'm feeling pretty indifferent lately"
i whisper as i quietly lick the hydrangea
that dresses my left hand
