Like an uncertain and frightened child
over the seasons, I bloomed into a
determined and prickly bouquet
shallow dreams of popularity were mine
...
With this blazing summer in August
I for one have no sympathy for Demeter
in fact maybe Persephone should spend
more time with her father this year.
...
That doctor always talking to his
dead patients, lying naked and
quiet on a metal bed.
A tell tale "Y" shaped scar marks
...
The doctors in their starched and pressed
white coats run this unstable floor where
the mentally ill congregate. Not willingly
of course. Just a drift off course and
...
My doctor walks in so green and sterile
asking if I want the good news
or the bad news first. For me,
can there really even be any good news?
...
In a windowless room
hiding from life
I revel in dark serenity
I'm joined by the chatter
...
We walked on shards glass, a mass of ruins,
left behind when we split and crumbled.
Dying inside, caustic and bleeding poison,
distorted, painted cheer fooled no one that,
...
O' how increasingly fragile
I've become
Shattered depression glass
cuts deep into thin skin
...
Coldness began to shave me like ice
grating against bitten flesh
seeking my refuge in a
melting southern igloo
...
Dozens of cousins up early the morning after
mini bar maids handling watered down
fruity cocktails shaded by paper umbrellas
adorned with plastic mermaid swizzle sticks
...