Wednesday, November 2, 2011

11.2.11

My confidence is in my voice
But right now my voice is breaking
Just like my hands are shaking
If I can change love can love change me?
Petal white
And lily lullaby-ing
Hands that just touched red wine
Now touching skin lines
No ramparts to hide behind
And I’m a new mind
With soft spots
Fearing lying
(On a grand scale,
fearing trying)
Because things don’t ever end well.
But if things don’t end, can they stay well?
Loud thoughts.
…sometimes I make my own hell.

Getting through the nighttime
The real black and white time
The breaking point for boiling
Anxiety mines
Like explosive snakes
Heartbreaks happen
When you break smarts and worry starts.
And then starts break.
Broken’s not a good look
Started by sneaky mind hooks
And fear of writing a new book
Because you don’t know the ending
So you scribble it - maiming
And light it a-flaming
Set on rearranging and torn paging
So you won’t be torn again
You throw the book at him
Oh wait, you want it to mend?
Then it’s too late to find words to tell.
Maybe it's just as well.
Loud thoughts.
…sometimes I make my own hell.

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