Self-inflicted

Uncategorized

I wish you knew

not everyone is a thief

 

Your days are stolen by eyes

that cry out for acceptance

while walking past forests

without a glance to the left

 

You misread my calm

for carelessness

when the truth is

I could care less for thoughts

that aim to turn my vision red

 

For all I see are green trees

and each leaf

as it edges further

to the forest floor

 

Walk with me

in the darkest of woods

breathe the wet air

and throw your fair skin

into the muddy path beneath your feet

thrash around for a while

and let the thunder die

 

 

 

Girl Talk Self Talk

Uncategorized

Girl talk is not about what we say to other girls

It is about what we say to ourselves

It is what happens when we see mostly mirrors

and stitch words into our skin

as though we were taught

right from the beginning

to wear the whispers of other people

Basket Cases

Uncategorized

There are baskets

juggling on the heads

of girls

carrying too much

of what is grown

in someone else’s garden

 

Aching necks

break daily

under the weight of

what sprang

from the dirt

you chose

 

So specific in your decision making

as though purchased

with a particular design

in mind

 

And when you

trip over their

broken bones

and feel the instantaneous

crack

that crept upon them in slow motion

will you finally know

what it is to be broken

brick by brick

cell by cell

under your heavy words

and poorly framed eyes

 

Thoughts on Meditation

Uncategorized

On my way to meditation class I felt the urge to drive into a tree. On the way home I just wanted to drive.

Some days are like that. It’s like experiencing blindness with too much visual stimulation. Walking around as the ultimate contradiction.

Meditate. Strip it all away. Peel back all the pieces you thought really mattered and stop to feel the ground beneath your feet. Don’t just know that it’s there like some concept you can analyse.

At least once a day, find the truth behind all the ideas.

At least once a day, find some time to find you.

 

 

Perhaps in a Cafe

Uncategorized

Perhaps in a cafe in Rome

I will suddenly be a ‘Romantic’

swept up in black coffee

and cigarettes

like glamorous women

on old movie screens

~

Perhaps in a cafe in Rome

I can willingly choose to be ‘me’

as though I was only a ‘look’

a ‘face’

waiting to be found

beneath the mirage of so many places

that have graced this skin

since I first glanced at a magazine

~

Perhaps in a cafe at home

on some ordinary street

I’ll accept my fate with grace

and leave no concern

for pictures

or an age

stamped upon my bones

like a countdown clock

reeling me in