Poetry

Self Love is a Form of Rebellion

I was born onto a sphere and raised into a box 

with paintbrush arms and winged feet, 

ever expansive, whole, and complete, 

Dancing deliriously into oblivion with 

stardust in my lungs and songs in my veins   

I tasted infinity before they taught me to count time. 

In school They lined us up

one by - 

one by -

one by -

one -  

in a monotonous drone,

I left my limbs on a classroom floor when They 

Branded my imagination as insubordination.

Purging star 

dust from my lungs

I gnawed at my wings 

for a place to sit at lunch,

And with blood in my teeth I smiled 

as They poured lead into my boots 

to stop my feet from dancing.

Thirsting for acceptance in a drunken reverie 

for the few bits I had left of me

Slipping away slipping apart-

My arms reached out for help, but 

the only hands I could find 

were pointing down at me

 from the clock on the wall.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Hit, Mock.

I shriveled myself into a mold 

I had shrunken too small for, and as I

lost myself slipping through the cracks,

I felt a burning in my skull

  pulling me back to heaven 

by way of hell.

Awaken.

The volcano lay dormant  in my skull,

A hellish flame angelic glow

Illuminating the vicious, fictitious 

haze I was choking on

  “You’re too strange to be loved”

 “You’re too different to belong”

“You’re much too much and you’ll never be enough”

ENOUGH!

I sank my teeth into the soil to plant roots 

with the only voice that could speak for me,

Replacing their worn out mold with 

my own warm embrace,

I made myself a home within the bones 

I was taught were my cage.

The Spectrum of Duality

I buried a prism at the pit of my stomach 

So when my heart sank, light exploded 

through the cracks and I felt rainbows

radiating from the darkest corners of my skull.

    I am not

the shadows where I hide,

    I am not

the spotlight where I dance,

I am 

blurred across every shade of grey 

that has stained me colorblind.

The moonlight convinced me that

tears had painted me Blue, but

When the sun Rose I discovered

my pages were still Read

in between lines of light and

Dark, a violet realization that

All the colors in the mirror

 were melted into a wavelength.

A Queen’s Call to Arms

You saved my place at the head of the table with a place card

 that read: Marie Antoinette

And I forgot all our history to make room for dessert.

A craving for Cake A craving for lust

A gash on my neck A pain in my ass

An early call for revolution A 3 am text for devolution

“Hey you up? I miss you”

My eyes roll around my skull My skull rolls around your floor

I should’ve known you only wanted head.

Sex ain’t intimacy but it sure feels nice

My Bedside table is littered with ropes & lube & paddles & collars.

But I crave soft kisses, warm soup, and to be hugged from behind.

Simply, to be held.

The Carnal craving for flesh beats like a war drum.

But the lamb fears the wolves who want her meat, not her softness.

Hourglass Sand Castles (Susan Briante exercise) 

Warm evenings caressed by the breeze

Swelling with benevolent indifference

As I built castles

In the hour glass sand. 

What does time eat

While our attention is fasting?

“I really like him, but I just don’t have time right now.”

“It hasn’t even started but I’m already behind.”

“I love you, but I’m late!”

We’re all waiting for something.

But, Death waits for no one.

The golden glow at my core

Reminds me where I am;

Present.

The pricks at my spine

Remind me when I am;

Late.

Age stretches time as a whole

But contracts time as an experience.

Whimsical hours spent spinning in the park

At the high noon of childhood

Now, in the dawn of adulthood,

shrunk to a 20 minute jog

Around the outside.

The moment ever fleeting,

Embers of memories ever burning.

A warm glow of the past,

A tan that won’t fade until I die.