Our Weight and RopesYour life, little flowersprung outlike a snakefrom a canlungs not readyyou hit the airit hit youviolently inwhole systemsmonths too earlythis life on earthand its lightninghit and burnteverything, asnothing about youwas anywhere nearready enoughand ever so luckilyyour wings wereslow to form tooas it was allwe could doour weightand ropeswere barely enoughto keep youfrom floating awaybut eventuallyyour wingspulled back insideand years laterwe're the onesstill learningto breathe
Acrophobic it's not that i'm afraid of falling. i'm afraid that i may jump.
.last night i dreamt thatyou took me to my bed andspread me out-you planted roses in the creviceof my ribcage and wipedaway the tears and the bruises, and youtold me that scars were nothing more thananother story that i will someday write,and that was the best thingyou could havesaid.
Dark BetrayalI dare not make a soundI dare not raise my voicePeering into the darkThat lies in front of meWhat will come out next,I wonder,To grab my cold bare ankleAnd drag me into Hell?A rustling noise-I tense-And the lights turn back onYou stand there, arms open-I run into them-And scream.Your hands on my throat,Your face twisted in a smileAnd the darknessclaims another victim
Death Takes Two SugarsDeath knocked on the doorcame inside without invitationpoured herself some teaand asked for a story.He laughed at all the right parts,cried when I cried,asked for more than she receivedsilently demanding.It cried with me and laughed with mesipping their tea and listeningshe wondered what I didn’t dothen told me how idiotic I was.He told me about the childrenI could have had but didn’tand the falls that lifted me upwith the loss of others.The story of how I almost killed a girlwhen she ran into the streetscared her to run into the arms of her fatherand never ran into the street again.The tale of the man who was meant for meyet still didn’t want meand that was not my fault but hisfor his life went on a different path.Death pushed in his chair and declared,‘It’s time for you to go’despite my tea’s warmthand my story was not quite finished.‘I’m not ready to go’I bellowed and threw my cup