It's the Little Things that Make Me Believe

To sum it all up,

my brother is in a foreign country, working with human-trafficking victims.

and I'm not entirely sure how to feel about it.
But I do know that I couldn't be more proud of him and what he's doing.
And he gives me a reason to talk to God and pray that he's safe.
And I thank him for that.
And even if I don't know the big guy as personally as I'd like to,
I know that He's watching out for my brother, because He loves him.
And I thank Him for that.

"It doesn't matter whether or not you believe in Him, because He believes in you."

Confession; And This Is What She Said

You’re going to have to swear – not to tell a soul…

A confession – a thousand black crows.

Blacker than the gloomy pools of tar which define your gaze,

Contracting, expanding,

Flocking wildly as they are all released

From the confines of that locked prison cell, your soul.

But only to spread their wings a little wider, creep a little higher, into the sky, so that they can’t be reached

Flapping loose, greasy feathers, so unlike the smooth soaring of a songbird, whose clean, angelic wings could recreate the heavenly messenger dove.

No. Instead their dark, piecy coats drip with disease,

A disease that controls. Takes over the mind. The body. Every morsel or morality… Consciousness…

They descend from the sky, those feathers, those secrets,

They descend from the sky, as lightly as heavy sins can fall.

And they fall like ice cubes, clinking around as I swirl my glass in a cyclical motion, a notion that ensures the need for a refill, to keep me feeling full, and satisfied, in a high.

They fall like droplets, almost like rain, each soothing the pain, the kind that makes you yearn for the burn, so heavenly in the chest, a poison that prohibits rest, filling the body with warmth so assuring…

But only the temporary kind…

They fall like weak knees after the triumph of the longest day of your life… the kind that drones on and on, as if time were a thief, the kind that drones on like no one else could understand. The kind that can only be cured by the tipsy kiss of a matter so delicate,

Of a matter so destructive.

But I’ll never be able to admit the mistakes that destroy

Not only me, but the ones who stable my balance.

Mistakes like the tingling sips, numbing not only my lips, but the perception of my connection with everything that is real.

And destroying, like that solitary moment of indescribable burning fury in the core of your spirit, that causes the confusion of glittering glass, the sound of shattering composure, a seduction so bitter and so sweet, a seduction that leaks down your throat and conforms to your existence. Then taking control, possession of a once sober body, a once pure heart, a once uncontaminated mind.

They’re the buzzing through my brain, the radiating frequencies off the walls that flirt with my conscience, the dust in the cellar, coating a friend who only wishes to ease my tensions, they’re under my bed, they’re in the cupboard, they’re beneath the dashboard of my dysfunctional vehicle. 

They’re hiding…. But we don’t want to hide anymore!  Each is squirming to be released, and all in sporadic disunion they whisper of guilty pleasures, teasing to please me, taunting me with empty glasses, clinking ice cubes, frosty kisses and sensual sensations.

They’re toasting.

To me.
They’ll do anything for their own exposure.

And yet the fermented taste of my words lingers not only in my upside down world.

My reddened gaze gives away intoxicated tendencies. My new infatuation for the glossy touch of glass against my lips consumes every particle of space in my now roaming, subconscious mind.

And as I topple down crooked stairs, I am only reminded of the looping patterns of my life.

For every day is a new day…

And yet, every day is another day.

And when morning arrives, I’m not going to recall all of the crows I have given away…

So you’re going to have to swear – not to tell a soul. 

"An they gon' judge me anyway, so whatever"

The days when you get out of the shower, say

 
     "F*** the system",

and put your socks on before your underwear.

mornin, sunshine!

Good Morning!!!!
it's not morning, so... jokes on you...
but remember what "good morning" use to mean?
    good morning.
usually accompanied by a vocal exclamation point, childishly sincere smile, and little arms reaching up around the waist of mommy, who was twice as tall as you? that was good morning. that's what it really means.
say what you mean. mean what you say. wish some one a good day. tell someone they're important. be happy for no reason in particular.
   say good morning like a child and be five years old again.

We Are The Bees...

We like pea coats.  We like dresses.  We like cool shoes and thrift shops and used clothing and floral prints.  We like dancing.  We like getting lost in pretty places and collecting autumn leaves and the wild flowers on the sides of the roads.  We like cafés on rainy days accompanied by intellectual conversations, and we like believing that everything about the world is beautiful. 

This is WAR

What Are the Risks

When Attempting to Reform

Without Approval? Raging

Warriors Arrive in Rundown

Warzones. Argument Reaps

Weapons, Anger, and Resentment.

Wandering Armies Resist

Wondering About Return, but

Weakness Awakens, Residing

Within.  Anxious Rescue

Workers Arrive, Retrieving

Wilting Ashes, and Rot.

Wizzing Above, Resources,

When Arsenal Runs

Without Ammo.  Ruins.

We Are Related,

but we are killing out brothers and sisters every day.

      this is Wrong.

      this is Against the laws of nature.

this is the Reason there is hatred and fear and corruption and deaths that can be prevented.

this. is. WAR.

Should I spell it out for you?

How I Can't Stand

Calloused feet stuck firm to the edge, how easy it would be

To slip out from underneath, and drop into the sea.

The eroded soil is braver than I, it falls without complaint,

The pebbles follow quickly after, as if it’s all a game.

But I stand rooted to the edge; a speck of time changes everything.

Straight down, without a sound, one slip, one fall, one end,

It’s not a question anymore, there’d be too much left unsaid.

Peering down at a swirling abyss,

It swallows any ounce of confidence,

It makes me stutter, walk away and defy

All my thoughts

‘Cause I can’t stand to look in your eyes.