I have no idea where I was going with this but here-

I must wear it like a chain around my neck


A bloody weight specially made of gossamer wings and naivety


For a split second I can see it
A tiny throne for a tiny king


Strong,

holding me upon a dirty bed


Strangers walk by with their stilted lies
throwing their red paint and holy words


A christening by those who curse


It must be hanging like a noose
This tightly woven cradle where tiny kings,
With tiny wings can slumber


For a split second I can feel it


(Tantalizing fingers glimmer, gently brushing remembering the need)


Remembering the greed
It didn’t take that long to bleed


As they tugged and pulled away my flesh
Cutting into my skin like a second dress


I remember it so clearly


Maybe that is why I wear it around my neck
This bloody weight specially made of
Gossamer wings and tenacity


Such a tiny throne for a unwanted king

A church of Echos

Why is no one listening to me

Screams the child in the church pew

Grandfathers hand down their top

And grandmothers over their mouth

Mom and dad standing at the opposite ends

Trying not to listen to the shouts

But that is not what gave the room pause

Over there sits a little boy with a gun in his lap

And rewards on his jacket

Drawing up a dagger and slicing into a peer

Color coded lettering screaming

Why is no one listening

But move the camera preacher man

Over there you’ll see

A girl squating over pill bottles chocking them down with ease

Shitting out insta likes

As the wolves paw at her feet

The shacking of the pills bottles gives a signal

As hands reach to spread her knees

Why is no one listening to me

Down the asle lies a bible

Covered in well wishes and kisses

Thumbs up with well intentions

It holds the congregations attention

As the preacher man walks by

with gleam in his eye

Giving twisted smile to the lost boys

And waving at the confused girls

Praising the mothers and fathers

Only to step past the blooded child

Another soul made of rainbows

My mother loved another soul

But soon she had to let it go

Now I can hear my mothers tears

Whispered wishes that she dares not feel

A little one who held her close

A little one who loved her most

My mother loved another soul

So much so she let it go

Dispite the tears that she cries

And the whispers she tries to hide

She did what she felt was best

But it was I who was laid to rest

See my mother loved another soul

So much so she watched them grow

And when she could remember me

In her soul she did weep

But I am watching over her

And that soul she held so close

A Sudden Disinterest

I contemplated praying the other day when I saw my mother crying. An irresistible urge to comfort her in the only way she knows how. But I digested the feeling and found it lacking…something.

A certain flavor to give rise to my struggles. Not things I share with those flawed like me but something I quickly lust about to those others who believe. Others who are so far from me but still people I love.

I saw my mother crying and wanted to give comfort in the only way she knew how. Copy the posture beaten into me and speak past a jaw wired shut. But there was something wrong with this image. This debatable fiction layed out before me.

I tried to bring up the images of those I despise with such a passionate love that it can only be fate. Oh how I tried to push them away but when I needed them most they stood by. Watching my mother with regretful tears in her eyes. Me on my knees easing my hands on high!

But I distress with this taste in my mouth most foul and tamed. Struggling past the restraint to say amen.

Sleep aid

My daughter is crying in the other room

But I am to scared to go get her

I am afraid of what I will see

A giant figure standing over her

Caressing her whimpers

I am not strong enough to fight it

So I hide

My daughter is crying in her room

But I am to afraid to save her

I know what is standing there

A figure made of bad dreams

Touching her face as she shakes and whispers

A/N when my daughter was a newborn I was often afraid that something would happen to her. I remember watching all these videos about kids dying from SIDs or some other illness. I would constantly wake up and check on her. Doing the finger under the nose check just to make sure she was still breathing.

As she aged I started to have other fears. As I would open her bedroom door to check on her I would suddenly think that someone is standing there waiting.

They wouldn’t harm us but they would sit there. To this very day, and I do mean very, I am still afraid to go and check on her. I have to work myself up to it. I often hear her when she wakes up but I do not move until she comes to my door asking to come in. I stay silent… I know this cowardly but the person in my head is often one who loves her and hates me. To it I am a monster and she must be protected.

I am afraid but I know she will be forever safe.

Bad Reception

Dial tone

No ones home

Just the thoughts inside me

Simple words can not miss

Yet simple words are what you get

I am an adult who feels to much

Sees to much

Hears to much

I have been through to much

Yet all in all

It is not enough

Words confuse me

Bring me pain

I know I sound childish

Possibly insane

Alas

There is nothing there

In my brain

Just a dial tone

To show no ones home.