replacement-whale

her sorrow radiates consumes her smiles      heart pulls stretched complete no partial emotion all joy, all sorrow flip the switch this way is pain

you may not survive thoughts, doubts, worry stranglehold on your soul bass drops sigh emanates the worst is past

                  Stupid... Shot down....        Excited....               Embarrassed....                           Words chase each other           Tripping across my brain Endless dance upon heavy conscience Vice around my heart Tear against my cheek Stupid

fire brushes my soul inciting forgotten feelings rekindling execrable memories shut that door escape! alas... fire consumes my being eyes leak from empty sockets death lurks inssidious,                incendiary,                               intransigent i thought this was supposed to be the end

   pain resonates         voice wounded   reserved, wary                      timidly waiting  no,   don't    ask          whats wrong  you don't       want   to   know not really

There was a time when words were truth when a look was honest no worrying about secrets, hidden meanings, lies... Deceit has no place in Love There was a time when my heart was open to be battered, bruised... or treasured Now doors are closed shades drawn Guarded but still I remember There was a time

The wind speaks to me Her woeful howl spreads through sympathetic branches of dancing trees The wind acts on me buffeting my soul with cries of her power calling on my own The wind is my spirit I am the wind

There is beauty in anger flushed cheeks and brilliant eyes revealing uncompromising rigidity refusing all misconceptions fighting with the force of conviction

I was a princess once wrapped in dutiful riches condemned to a life of grandeur my pride was smothered i became demure and humble reborn I rise My chin held high My spine erect no cage shall hold Me all chains fall upon the floor I stand unfettered, I stand free And yet for all of that i was a princess once

you cannot cage me my body resistant to your too-small box you cannot change me my mind a steady wall refusing to be brought low I am eternally as I am

She listens to the corpse of a wingbeat. The stories of faraway people etched on sea glass and flower petals, like legends told for lullabies printed with rose thorns in the absence of paper. Do the fingers of clock hands hold the questions of children, the way wine kisses guilt and disposable wedding rings? Handmade letters and gift-wrapped packages resemble the music of a laughter that isn't really there. How many faces are the reflections of a moment dying in the second of a memory- or the dances in the i love you's that you never told me.                  

She walks this underpass embalmed with the graffiti of the broken, the glass bottles blue and broke on cigarette dirt - where she disinters glints of rusting rails, steel line parallels of a western yesterday and gold melded dust. Nonplussed by this tunnel's twilight eye, this lying catacomb echo of a locomotive ghost, she must get out, escape, breathe Georgia magnolias, and leave her solastalgia ache to a zephyr wind, to elysian fields. But it's all she feels, this millstone of loneliness chained to the selfsame shame that came with breaking her mother's sidewalk spine, the crab leg line of bone beneath her very own skin. So she ta