Walking in Mud

WALKING IN MUD

The land is dry except where I tread with feet doing the dead walk.
The shifter is asleep and is uninspired by being mired in 
the mucky muck.
A little bit of rain drowns the monster mouse in a deluge of
contemplation.

Stretching To Become More

Little pea upon the ground

pressed, by a little finger, down

into the soil.

Spit upon by God's great skies

and bound by dampened sighs

and earth's recoil.

SHOUTING IN MY HEAD

SHOUTING IN MY HEAD

at the other people

The tintinnabulation of my just cause that's playing out in my head

does justice only for me so that I may reign alone in this my domain

of solitude.
No one hears me when I scream in silence.
Silent screams. Pitiful.
Pounding on my own head results in headaches only
and bleeding stomachs quinches no ones thirst to be
heard.

Young In Old Skin

YOUNG IN OLD SKIN

You pin back the folds hoping no one sees the creases left from

flapping flesh.You dare to live the age you feel even when it fails to slip

past an old thought. Young feet never got dirty because you were ever

the good girl, living life in daydreams only. Who would you have 

become if those dreams had been unleashed? So many molds uncasted.

~to be finished later~

INSIDE OUT

Inside Out

I trace my hands along the defining walls

of the cell that I myself have created.

No windows, no doors, no locks, no keys.

The stones are removable but well placed.

The jailer has forgottened where she has placed her tools.
The stones call for a sharing.
Leave no echo unturned. Unanswered. This
is the starting point to pursuing madness.
Somewhere there is a nova of sanity
gathering in the darkness to explode in a
moment of clarity where you regain your
ability to breathe.



LOOSE SKIN

SLIP AND SLIDE

This human mantle of flesh that rides

loosely upon my bones never has

settled for a securer  home.

The soul hides within its folds content

to float in this realm of glass fort-

resses that can not last.

I resonate, vibrate when dreams close

in on reality and I must fail because

I can not tell, can't tell...what?

I must shed this malevolent beast that

devours the keys to my cell and sips

 from the wells of useless tears.

Written prayers upon the walls and tables

 laden with bowls of rue of  which I 

will always eat as if my due.

This skin has never fit and a tailor never

found to stitch a suit to my liking.

No mettle to burst a bias striking.