They say I have your sober eyes Every time I smile And carry your mettle spirit Through every trial. I am reminded of your calloused hands Clinging to my mother’s waist, And
Salt water ignites the path to my lungs, crushed underneath weightless suspension. Refractions reach my drowning breath with clarity. Reflections pull my clouded eyes above the tide. Steady the pendulum. Silence the scales.
We were meant to be Planted in a garden— To walk with Him, To breathe His Prescence daily, To flourish with the tall trees, To walk as them uprightly, To dwell under the
They echo through my stories, And whisper in my dreams, They laugh within my thoughts— These ghosts that can’t be seen. They walk along beside me Like my shadow in the sun,
On a bleak, desolate plain, amid a land of lost dreams, A wind-child with hair as black as a raven’s wing Peered out of the darkness deep, emerald-green eyes narrowing wondrously As
They echo through my stories, And whisper in my dreams, They laugh within my thoughts— These ghosts that can’t be seen. They walk along beside me Like my shadow in the sun,
I am awake wondering why both love and anger burn, and why Icarus fell into the sea for the Sun. My soul reaches out into the forge, an unconditional death grip on a
An echo in the openness in the empty field in my hollow chest in my barren breath Coldness. Along the horizon, fire flushes, but it’s not here, not yet. In the stillness,
There you are just standing around, Hands in your pockets, eyes on the ground As if they hammered you to what could’ve been A matchless heat, a bosom friend. Open wounds pierced
Dedicated to my brother David who refused to give up on God, even when God Himself didn’t seem to care, and who is now joyfully married and on his way to the
An echo in the openness in the empty field in my hollow chest in my barren breath Coldness. Along the horizon, fire flushes, but it’s not here not yet. In the stillness,
I accepted the risk of winter. I treaded through frostbitten words that numbed my face and burned my ears. I tripped on trust, broke ice three years thick. I dropped below zero, my
Childhood is but a flurry Glitter, winks in sunlight beams, flung onto carpeted floor after PB&J lunches. Bubbles, blown to each other's noses, bounce and burst on summer breezes. Hair, tossed
My hands quiver with a sense of thee Vanishing in the night, A feeling of longing only I know to be right. The swirling winds, they beckon me to Trace the leaves dispersed.
My shirt claws into the back of my neck and my pants pinch at my waist, folding and creasing the skin. Invisible spiders crawl into my ears and the glasses I always wear
I gaze up to the scorching sun, And it’s burning down upon The stones that lay so still and fragile Until the night is come. Not a whisper to be heard by
PSYCHO. CRAZY. DRAMATIC. people put labels on things they don’t understand. the tears trickle out of my eyes one by one. unbidden, unwanted, and not understood. the doctor tells me the pills
Dreams are the paths that we follow in life: They give us a purpose to plow through our strife. All seem star-spangled and end in the skies, But some lead downward and end
“Hush. The wind sings a hymn.” “Nonsense. The same wind, hot and thick and dry As wool in summer on my skin.” “Listen. No rush of river of gush of streams. Such gravity