Split bitterness
                            upon my slighted tongue

The grass still grows
                                     when uncertainty rains

Lost
Alone

My head to raise
                              arrested beyond reach
                                              beyond hope

Shut down
                    a clasp

Is latched
Is closed

For I speak
                    for I shout

My voice sits alongside
                                          the memory
                                                                of you

Such bitterness
                             split between each word

And a weight
                        through tears
             I flow
      just to lay
in your grasp.

Slowly slipping
beyond the reach of everyone.

Not knowing I'm alive.

The world sits outside my existence
like a country I've never known
the language of.

Vomited words
splinter deep 
buried in the place
where I used to stand.

Something strangles me
with bloodied talons.
Doesn't announce itself.
Just tightens.

The dust of past torment.
The light of broken flares
glaring gleefully toward the dark 

gleefully,
I don't understand.

Sitting alone.
Standing alone.
Tired and forbidden.

I disallow substance to flow.
To freely glide over myself.
I am the one doing this.

The moon may guide me.

The sun refuses to shade.

Tonight or tomorrow
the day will cease
and the pain 

the head 

refined.

Ever felt like telling
                           everyone you love them
           then telling them
          to leave you alone?

An inquisition into my mind.
 Every beat an eternity.
  Every breath a lifetime.

April's ending around me.
I see street lights shining through the wet grey.

I see you breathing. 
     I know it's cold love.

Weathered heart sways,
          like drowning beats
   in a pool of blood.

  Mind Cries.

Once, I slept, not afraid to close my eyes.
Welcoming final thoughts.
Cradling future memories.

Now the Darkness chills me.
A dream that never ends.
Accompanying insecurities into the night, I pray to awake. 

Uninvited is the light
Warm
Welcoming
And a little too sure of itself.

I let it stay
I bask
An orb shines
Surrounding me.

Shielding me.

Same way the dark approaches
No knock
No apology
A weight unexpected
Heavy in the chair.

Shielding me.

In the light I stand.
And felt afraid of it.
In the dark I sit.
And felt held.

There is no good
There is no bad.

No war.
No winning.

There is only the morning
that is both. 
The sky not yet decided,
the tea going cold.

The words spilling anyway.

Light and dark
do not fight in me.
They share the space.
They always have.

I just took this long to stop
calling one of them the enemy.

A darkness, a tear.
Through blindness, through fear
I wait - I see -
some comfort for me.
I speak. I smile.
I watch a while
for myself to be
something other than a dream.
My eyes are open.
I see nothing.
Blinding as the sun
that stands in front of me -
a pain in the head,
a pain in the heart.
I live in a dream
in which I move, talk, walk.
Sleep.
Sleep I need -
to discover again,
to rediscover
all of the colours that are.
And a bourbon light
falls onto my face,
etched in lines,
unbuttoned,
unzipped.

I stand beside the shattered glass,
a thousand versions of me - 
Jagged smiles,
twisted eyes,
a face that flickers like a dying flame.
Cradling the chaos -
the splinters of truth buried beneath a mosaic skin,
dull,
broken.
Like hope pretending to be whole.
Each mirror bears a secret,
reflects a whisper I cannot see.
One eyes sees me weeping,
another smirking at the remnants.
Who am I but a gallery of ghosts and each fragment framing a different lie.
The piece cuts both ways.
They bite at my soul,
as I try to rearrange myself,
the more I touch,
the more I bleed.
This is not just a reflection.
It is a shattered mask - 
a war between what I am and what I choose to share.
So let the mirrors stay broken.
Let the mosaic whisper its cruel illusion of order.
For in this distortion,
I am both the artist and the art.
Ruined.
Remade.
And forever undone.