Shelf Life

My oppression came on tip toe

Insidious in it’s insinuation

It came softly

Softly

Until I was gently placed in

It’s thrall

Molded into a believer

All too willing to yield

To sacrifice 

To lay to waste

Everything

Before I even knew 

I was sleeping

In shackles

I was nothing but a shadow

In my own dream

Where I was eclipsed

By a pleasant nothing

Then as I watched the distant

Feeling of… love?

Slip away

Then reality hit

As strong as my chains

My body shrieked

As my mind went up in flames

Unlike the somnolent

Way that I fell sick

I clawed these walls

Till my hands were slick

With blood and gore

And determination

I would die if I gave in

I would risk death for emancipation

There was something important

On the other side

I could feel it’s substance

See it with my blinded eyes

I tore apart this blissful cage

I tore myself apart in my rage

Till I was nothing but scars

And regret

I stood at the edge

As I once languished on a shelf

I felt the pain

And found myself

A Poetic Essay on The Essence of Art

Art is a living breathing

Writhing and moaning

Shouting and muttering

Beckoning life force

That draws you ever closer

To tell you

It’s endless secrets
There is art in the commonplace

Banal obscurity

There is hushed abstraction

Even in the rhythm of routine
The extraordinary can bore

The pretentious glory

Of overthinking

Can fall Insipid

If your heart is not in

The brush, the pen, the medium
But then there are those 

Spells

Captured so transiently

When the extraordinary

Explodes to.light up the sky

And fades leaving only 

traces behind

As you wish you could

Etch them on your skin
What is art?

A mask?

A drawing?

A poem?

Define it and your tongue

Will become tied

Because true artistry

Is not

In the eye of the beholder
Art is known not when

You see it

But when you feel it

When you close your eyes

And you can feel that 

Stirring
As if your body could dance to 

Silence

As if your eyes struck blind

Would never forget

Art is not simply beauty

It is to reflect

It is to feel revolted

It is to feel as if it tears and rips

At every belief

Art

In any form has teeth
To me art is what makes you feel

What makes you believe

Art never lets

You forget

It only hides in your heart

Distraction in the Rain

The color blue runs in the rain

Like it’s being chased

As it reaches my fingertips

My dreams become electric 

As I dash after my thoughts

The way they are all connected

Reminds me of the way the clouds

Move

The air is warm and I want to be

Kissed

I can feel the energy

In my palms

Like feeling the storm

I want to chase it

I want that thrill

As I become
I need that connection

As it calls to me

Softly

Demanding

Pushing towards the edge

Hold me back

Place me in a strait jacket

If I am allowed to even

Feel the wind

I will be carried away

The black 

Daisy Chains

No excuses

I have caused

Agony

Acrimony

Anguish 

To you

And myself

It causes me

To shroud myself

In shame

But I know

That despair

My sins

I am struggling again

There are two archangels

On my shouders

Their clawed hands 

Mar me

As I 

Pull away

It is your kiss that

Eases the pain

As they rip me

To shreds

The suffering

Belongs to both

Of us

My faith is cynic

And yet I know

Destruction 

Is kept at bay

By unconditional  love

Everything we do

Is the nature of the 

Mistake

To forgive or not to forgive

But I would rather 

Put daisy chains in your 

Hair

Mouth Full Of Salt

I have spent

Unending hours

With a mouth full of salt

Spitting words

To try to alleviate

The taste

Defacing a blank page

To detract from what

I could not evade

My gallows humor

My self depricating smirk

The gentlest forms

Of my enmity

But alone with

That mouth full of salt

I swallowed

In great gulps

Until it was a part of me

Blindly assuming

I was the one in control

And when I was proven

Wrong

I gorged myself on sleep

And found only

Nightmares

I clawed

Until my nails bled

Trying to climb

From that hollowness

The futility lost

In the fight

It was not until

I lowered my fists

That I realized the

Days gone by

Were behind my lips

And I choked

Until

I was free

Flicker

She was fire

The cleansing flame

To her

The past was nameless

The future an apparition

She never watched the sand

Slip from the hourglass

She harmonized

With the flash of the second

And flickered
She laughed easily

Genuinely

Her smile could be coaxed

With simplicity and scribble

Unforgettable 

In her shameless joy

She was not gentle

When she loved
Like the flame

Licking at your fingertips

Begging to consume

She was hard to resist

The way she glowed

With trouble 

And playfulness 
Her name was

On the tip of your tongue

Wicked

And honeyed
She is fire

The cleansing flame

She’ll make you be born

Anew

Just like she is

instant to instant