twenty years ago.

you were single-handedly the most heinous force in my life.
the lies,
the excuses,
the manipulation,
the loss.

you were not my hurricane but you were my forest fire.
you left nothing.
no room for
regrowth,
maturity,
second chances.

& you are the reason that i was burned alive.
but you forgot

i am a phoenix.

; & -

the cosmic darkness ironically illuminated every good thing;
good intentions, good dreams, good meanings -
thoughts and words and places
all illuminated by a vast light while humanity
groped
through
the darkness.
men or angels, carried with divine might;
pure hearts, pure thoughts & pure souls -
smiles and joy too far out of reach for us as we
stumbled
through
the darkness.
when their bright lights dimmed;
and their smiles faded -
they were forced to see the same as us.

and then they too were lost in the darkness.

the witch

the witch has a gift for me.

her vial glistens in the moonlight as she hands it over and i can feel the warning from the trees.
i ignore them and take it into my hand.

"give this to him and you will be free."

i don't need more instructions,
i don't need more explanations.
i don't need more motives.

i just need to be. 

gone.

i have an obsession with disappearing.

this obsession grips me by its roots,
holding me down and suffocating me with its imperial screams and persuasive devices.
i do not exist.
the skin on my body is not real,
the muscles the sinew the bone
all of these thoughts in my head
are void of reality.

sometimes i can feel my invisibility
in that moment when i am see-through.
if you reached out to touch me,
your hand would go right through.

nothingness.
a dream stuck in an endless cycle.
smoke and mirrors and glass cages.

in the haze of my sanity i can at least make clear
that it's not reality that's fading:
it's me.

tattoo

the party is exclusive, you told me;
a boyish grin crinkles up your face.
I lay on my back, void of clothing.
I hate you and I hate me and I hate this.
you've bought me a dress, strapless, backless;
gold as sin and red as blood.
But those are your words.
I slip it on, and your mothers earrings jingle
as I grip your arm and force a smile.
words blossom against my back,
but they are not meant for you. 

my loneliness will crush me. 

who once was mine.

water droplets on my face,
trails of wetness on my cheeks.
trails of rain or trails of tears?
i don't remember anymore.

soaked, wet, drenched - fallen
on my knee's and now i'm sobbing.
mud soaked tights and sticky dress,
hand in face, i'm such a mess.

a little boy with cheeks flushed pink;
a little boy who belonged to me.

a little boy who's six feet down;
a little boy without a sound.