Anima

There is a place inside of me

Where my dreams go to die

A somber potter’s field

With no caretaker

No gravedigger

Just the silence of demise

The tombstones are inscribed

With nothing

The mausoleums are in disrepair

It is futile to glamorize

It is pointless to mourn

When this graveyard is but a chrysalis

Where my dreams become new apparitions

That refuse to not live

There is a place I can find

Where fear is a straitjacket

I smoothly slip my arms in

Accepting its comforting embrace

Hysteria tightens its restraints

Anxiety and abhorrence that is

Terrifying in its rationality

Lead me to a padded room

I am lulled to sleep

As they whisper

The lie that is a lullaby to my ears

“You will be safe here”

There is a land of whimsy

Where fantasy sings to me

And reality is an illusion

That I am blind to

Because I have a child’s eyes

I question everything

And receive nonsense

That enchants

And gibberish

That is perfect in its logic

There is a hall with walls

Lined with snap shots

A charmingly embarrassed smile

A head hung low in loneliness

A familiar look

In familiar eyes

That speaks more powerfully than words

There is no big picture

But every photo tells a story

And lets me bask in those minutiae

Reminding me that this life

Is a series of moments

And each one is precious

Beyond measure

In places there were once gaping wounds

Some of which I stitched

With a rusty needle and thread I tore with my teeth

Some grievous injuries never healed

They continue to weep blood

And some although small

Festered until the infection spread

And had to be cut away

I am patchwork

I have earned

Every scar

Of self-destruction

The labyrinth goes on

To places even I have not dared to look

My psyche is an every growing map

Limitless

And exquisite

Extraordinary

And dreadful

It forces me to love

More than it is safe to

It lead me to spill

My life force

When I spill this ink

And it creates within me

Loyalty so powerful

That the confines

Of eternity are laughable

Dirty, ashamed, damaged

Strong, breathtaking, inspiring

So complex

In its wonderful imperfection

There will never be another like it

And it is mine

The Hour

This is the hour for forgetting

This is the hour when my mind

Is kind

It does not remind me that summer

Is a painful time

Of memories

That are unspeakably vivid

This is the hour for remembering

Those late night trips of my youth

With the brother that refused fear

With the brother

That was determined to live

Even if he perished in the process

This is the hour

That summons memories

Of the tattered back pack

In which I kept my chaotic life

Walking the streets

Of my small town

Looking for a place to sleep

Anywhere but home

This is the hour when

My best friends found me

When they answered the door

And let me in

When they pulled up

In broken pick-up trucks

And we chased the night

Running from the dawn

This is the hour of my first kiss

That lead to years of confusion

All of which were worth it

This is the hour

When playing on a swing set

Made perfect sense

And perfect bliss

In this moment

I idealize the trauma

That created tears in my eyes

This is the hour

When I never knew

If I would survive

This is an hour of nostalgia

That tastes like dark chocolate

When the world made no sense

And it was painful and perfect

And I was alive

The Lion Who Layed Down With The Lamb

I used to hate the darkness

I feared the coming of the night

When shadows played tricks

And I stumbled in the moonlight

Tripping over the fears

That I knew hid in every corner

Hiding from every object that I knew

Was sinister

But now I sit on my porch

The cicadas and lightning bugs

Have gone to sleep

And it is just me

And the cricket choir

The sky is indigo ink

Not a star to be seen

The moon is new

And these eyes cannot find it

There is sweetness

In the lonely call of a single frog

I am awake

Free from the nightmares

That plague my sleep

And there is peace

The summer heat slumbers

But this sticky warmth comforts me

3:34 has never seemed so sweet

A poem entitled Night life

Nightlife

I love the night

That dangerous time

When thoughts creep through my mind

I revel in the dark so I do not sleep

Oh slumber you elusive beast

You come and go as you please

But I would rather be awake to dream

Nightmares are so much more interesting

With your eyes open and glistening

Close to crying

From the images your mind creates

Terror the mind can barely tolerate

The moments past midnight

When every sound is whispering

Every thought is fantasy

And there is no such thing as reality

The silence that allows

Your imagination to speak

The place where

Ecstasy and anguish meet

The victory and the defeat

The impossible possibility

Anything can happen once twilight falls

And the lunatics listen as the silver moon calls

It is the beauty of the lurking unknown

Lick your lips and feel a first kiss

Even when you are alone

By the time the terrible dawn does rise

You can lie one thousand lives

If only you know how to live in the night