spoken word

a rhythm sways
but my body stays
and nothing like this i have seen

i rise too quick my soul made sick by the
dizzy (so dizzy) i'm given

whatever, the blaze
in the words of a phrase make such
light out of darkness and thicket
(i'm out of it in it)

you say
i sigh
but the light is aligned
with a world
that i know
you
possess

i know nothing
i guess

(i highlight the mess?)

twice, that's it

the belief that i have believed in an illusion is an illusion
right?

your eyes were not meant to arise
mine found comfort in hiding

but
there
you
were

making yourself sure

and there i was
thinking why? ..oh, i know, because..

your skin would taste just like you

your mind would challenge my truth

the sight of you is a wicked muse

damn you

i know

discovery
is fifth to none
i'm not done
keep finding some sense of one
inside a facade of nothingness

it's 4 am
and i must be full
of what..?
i want to say i don't know,
but i do.
so i can't.

why do you still appear
with a wing
and a spark
when you are dark

i shook the box
it doesn't matter
it echoes, the rattle

i keep finding you even though i've stopped looking

nothing

i
want
to
climb
into a warm, cuddly lie
dive head first into the blank space
between
self destruction
and
brazen apathetic rampage

but the button is broken

figures

the wrong turn

live wires spit fire
all over my face
my place
regarding the race
is last
although fast
i do not
break
the ribbon

nothing is a given

..sullen, stupid girl..

pants on fire

i sigh
this high
keeps me in spin

the flutter by
is still
your grin

infatuation
wears one thin

are you just code for heroin

the earth has 100 lightning strikes per second

i fall restless and uneven
into a pile of forgotten sleep
and keep remembering
the flicker of wings
and other things

things that fly do not come to you unless you are willing to stand very still
and they are trying to tell you something

was the evidence planted

do i let you collect dust now

grrrrrrr

why??

why NOT??

how? what? where?

WHEN??????

sigh...

end of the beginning

the scent of what i meant is ecstatically possible
everything is at the tail end of nothing
this long hallway of what-if and when
ends
somewhere
in a pool of light

one day
there is no fight
just sweet tasting light
and
kisses