Poetry

Sweet and sour raindrop on your tongue acid from a tin can tasting like everything that has left me blindfolded and now you can see for yourself in the soft light. Icy blue candlelight flame dancing on the edge of your rooftop that you were so afraid of the railing cold on my waist electric singing of an upside-down city in a red sunset. Stimulated senses feel like the loss of all touch in a deep dive watching the eclipse of the eyes change the exposure of my hard light.

Steel between my bones As if more needles can cure What you think plagues me

For a split second I was able to taste the sun and drown in the eyes of a mutual understanding

The poet has a pen That scribes lightning fast All the words flow but often over-spill Conveying messages while writing furiously Poetic words that dance but cannot be still Anomalous poet knows not from where the words come from Perhaps they fall from the sky It really doesn’t matter from where For poetry frees us all, anomalous poet knows why Copyright ©

People often tell me that I have my head in the clouds. To them, I say they have their heads too close to the ground. Those without a mind cannot see the true worth in beauty. To them, there is but one Reality, but to me, there's a million. An endless void to escape to whenever yet this Reality is my home whether I like it or not. When people tell me to face reality, do they mean that I'm a knight? Do they mean that Reality is a big, snarling beast or fire-breathing dragon? When I hear someone tell me to face reality, I must not think of it as a beast or a dragon to be defeated or slain. No Reality is something to be tamed, to be made your ally in life. So, the next time someone tells me that I have my head in the clouds, I’ll agree with them. But I’ll be saddled in, riding high on the wings of a dragon named Reality while I soar through the sky. I'll be ready to face the beast that is my friend, my home, my existence.

I will love you like a feather graze, the touch you barely feel but burns like a brand. I will love you like a juggernaut uninterrupted, an un-meeting with immovable. I will love you like diamonds in the mantle, building slowly to perfection. I will love you like the roar of the ocean, whirlpooling around its kraken. I will love you like the sky loves the sea, blue on blue, indistinguishable. I will love you like the intensity of the sun and its pull, boundless. I will love you like a secret, tucked into my heart’s pocket. I will love you like a promise and its infinite completion. I will love you like how once upon a time never ends. I will love you like suffering and it total eclipse. I will love you like death and its raze, eternal. I will love you like truth is always realized. I will love you like forever loves itself. I will love you like bread, simply. I will love you. Full stop.

Entwine Your hopes with mine Unwind Our stars aligned Findabair Mo Chuisle, Camshron Rested Joys uncontested Clarity Detecting devotion's rarity.

Some say hope is for fools. In life there are no rules. My hopes are uncountable, in scope seeming unsurmountable. I hope for a better day, I hope for a better pay, I hope to know my way, I hope to know what to say. Just to dream can be brave, when it means who to save. In my hands sits the white dove, survival of the fittest in love. I dream myself truly awake, I dream myself opening the gate, I dream myself without fear, I dream myself outside the sphere.

Her fluorescent eyes, Alluring. Rose petals flying Adorn the sky, Fireflies sighing. Immuring, Her inflorescent eye.

Minefields of grey Blackholes in the sky The programable dream of mechanisms in time Insanity encircles the soulless delirium of the mindless repetition

A Forest of books shelves of bound paper and ink millions of stories

Now We Know we thought we’d wash up welcomed, like flotsam lost along a well-worn section of beach; but the whole past summer (and spring before it) had been heaped from equal measures of dirty needles, to sand, to feet- and nobody was there to take us home we didn’t expect autumn to fall any softer and it didn’t; its air teemed thick with ghosts of drawn and quartered hope so we fished in its fog in raincoats and respirators for our sanity; fished from piers that disappeared daily as the tide rolled in we’d tread rising waters while every building on the horizon ached into memory, let to sink, like a derelict wreck but, we wanted to be found; needed this, a million times more than we’d ever wanted to find anything, ourselves now we know we were never meant to settle here, but were just unsettling enough to claim here momentarily, and now winter barely even needs to whisper its weapons against us it murmurs that love doesn’t live here and spring doesn’t either, that only the

You pluck my strings to watch me dance, Manipulate me, and intimidate me with just a glance. Your bittersweet words drip with venom and leech under my skin, Yet I still prance for your twisted folly, unaware of the danger I am in. You tangle my strings and laugh as I helplessly dangle, You prevent my escape from every angle. You derive great satisfaction from your daughter’s pain, I have cried and begged for you to love me, yet it was all in vain. With a deft twist of your wrist you yank my cords and pull me back, I am your bitch on a leash and I will receive no slack. “No child of mine!” is all I ever hear you say, Yet try as I might you will not allow me to walk away. Once again you retract my cords, All my life I have known punishment and no rewards. Here and now, today your puppet stands on her own two feet, I’m done with the abuse, exploitation, and, deception, I have taken some time for introspection. I am stronger than that toy you so

She wanted to cry, to cry inconsolably and loud, she just wanted to shout her lungs out, every time she smiled her heart bled more, she had lost control over herself which had happened never before, He is her home, she would not find peace, Any damn place she would go, he is not a path, he is never for a season, he is her forever, he is her destination.

i. let my wrists speak scarlet from the brim, be sated yet again such that lamentations end. this drowning from a hint of lacerated limbs i present, dear oracle. patch me in to chat with seraphim. ii. or at least take your fucking fangs out of my neck. darling canid, you could snap me into shatterings again and yet again i'd beg your pardon for my augmentation. finger paint with my distaste, cannot erase the fragrance; i still rip the dangers from my ribcage, quick as daggers given carnage. i don't blame you but its hard to praise through six foot stabs. iii. but i will, after morning dies and noon dissolves and evening is late. i'll try harder to relate to excruciating pain. as though there's light within this grave.

The wings were clipped The lungs were punctured The eyes were slit The bones were shattered The limbs were contorted All before the start of the tale All by the unwilling priestess Now, the dearly beloved only see Belphegor hiding in that glass heart Even after witnessing flesh tear, Feathers burn, mini kingdoms fall apart, Lexicons boil under ice, and horrors grow Sentience Watching clouds birth ash, they spit on The crippling reality; a stray kitten Rots in a beautiful palace Tragedy wearing a clown's mask Comedy drooling tears Why can't they let the venom sink in? Where can I plant the truth? When will I be loved again? Human nature is utterly horrifying...

I leave open spaces, like open seats and open palms and open eyes and open books and open windows as if I leave enough vacancy, your body will appear to fill it. A place at the table is always empty. There’s always too much food, and I give whatever you wouldn’t eat to the dogs, as we always do, but most of it is gathering flies on the countertop and most of me is there with it, staring at the mess - rotting, flea-bitten, buzz-buzz-buzz - and whatever you wouldn’t have - laugh, bad joke, the nicknames you don’t like - I give that to the dogs, too. Should I draw a pentagram in the kitchen floor? Would that bring you here? Have you become so dark - in your clothes and your woes and your thoughts - that getting you to appear is like a summoning? Are you a demon, dear, leaving our chilly conversations for the warmth of the underworld? There’s space for you everywhere: I threw away old photo boxes, my mother’s dishes, grandpa’s urn - I threw away half of my heart

I look down the stairs that twist and turn my heart caught in my throat it's just a tiny step deep down I know but what looks like a molehill to nearly all my eyes shapes to a mountain top. My legs refuse to budge as my folks stare up my mind begins to race and I begin to plea just move it's no bigger than a bee but my legs refuse to heed. I'm taking up their time as the clock ticks by I can hear their laughter drifting by yet still frozen am I so I begin to cry. My mind mocks me and I feel betrayed for why are those that are supposed to protect me making fun of me in such a way. Eventually I get down legs shaking still for the rest of the time cursing my mind. That is only one instance of the many in my life for it never goes away it will forever stay less a cure be made. So I have learned to take my time climb down slow and pretend not to care about the stares.