Spiral

smudged windows

cause the light to shift

and static scrapes

 inside my ears

there is pressure in my brain tonight

something trying to push its way out

it causes my heart to race slightly

letting the discomfort spread

from the center of me

out through my limbs

there is agitation, irritation

I am wholly unsettled

images and words are pounding

in echoes through my head

shame, regret, give it a name

though it matters not what you call it

the stinging, slow burn

exists like a haunted sprite

I almost feel like a demon today

a goblin, something dark

I can’t shake the sinking feeling

that I have done something wrong

this roller coaster pattern

that has defined my emotion for months

is slowly dragging me up again

the to point where it lets me drop

Skin

do you ever notice some days

your skin just doesn’t fit right

struggling, stretching and twisting

you are caught in your own tangled web

when the pressure against you pushes

and the weight falls heavy and hard

your screams are covered in silence

the façade, the walls closing in

how do you push the boundaries

of a veil that blocks out the light

how do you stretch the limits

of skin that is too tight

can you find the place where the seams

fit together and become one

and rip and tear and pull

until the thread finally lets go

can you grasp with bleeding fingers

and pull with all your strength

or do you simply surrender and sink

beneath the weight of your cloak of skin

can you run as fast as you can

as the breath is ripped from your lungs

can you push even harder still

until your muscles begin to scream

do you find yourself covered in sweat

shivering and shaking and cold

exhausted, with nothing left

yet still, your skin does not fit

Pr(e)ay...

calculating, methodical

painstakingly etched out over time

drop by drop, filling each vial

with vile intent

the end result

to feed ravenously

as the prey

begin to pray

 hunger, reaching into deeper

darker places

the stench of the kill

permeating every crevice

yet only one slow

lick at a time

making the mouth water

the flood of salivating glands

leaving the lips glistening

one tug, one tear

at raw flesh

a pull, gently at first

gradually showing intent

careful not to seem bent

on taking every last piece

every last drop

of the blood

as the fresh kill

slowly becomes rank

and rotted

remember now

that traps were set

laid with bait so enticing

the inveigled prey

so beguiled

 with all manner of temptation

threw caution

to the desperately blowing winds

that wailed their warnings

upon empty ears

the howling

deep into the night

that only echoed

bouncing off stone walls

into nothing

was there ever a moment

perhaps just as the jaws

of the steel trap

pierced naked skin

that remorse, regret

or a rueful repentance

passed through the fleeting thoughts

of either pursuer or prey

it is well documented

that no place is truly safe

no one without motive

none free of the entanglements

that sully the purity

of love

there is no benevolent

need

*I wasn't going to give an explanation of this poem but as I keep thinking about it, where better than here?

This idea has been simmering for weeks. It sparked after watching the Leaving Neverland documentaries. First, let me say, this is not about M Jackson, nor is it a comment on his alleged guilt or a place where I want to debate or discuss that. The way the story was told simply triggered some ideas that tell many stories, as poetry is known to do. 

Many people suffer various forms of abuse at various hands and not all of those abuses are quick and violent attacks. Many of them take time and planning and, as in the documentary, are 'groomed'. This idea has gnawed at me and today spoke for itself.*

Unusual

she sees the world

watches it

listens and observes

she sits slightly askew

one foot left of center

she writes things

 in a small notebook

scrawled words on blank pages

she tries

to make sense

of the things that make no sense

she sings quietly

softly

only for herself

anything louder only brings questions

she has no need to answer

she lives inside her mind

her dreams

carefully crafted worlds

where only she

knows how the story will end

and she

isn’t telling anyone

she is seen in the daylight

existing with the rest of them

 as a means

to return to the quiet place

where the only sound she hears

is the turning of the pages

and the lilt

the cadence

the rhythm

that keeps her steady

she crafts and weaves

brilliant threads

stands spanning

the length and distance

of time

and its irrelevance

she is singular

peculiar perhaps

certainly unusual

and in that

she smiles

Perspective

perspective is the crux

of the decision

distance stretched out

further than the eye can see

shapes blur in the distance

edges slip at the seams

one look is not enough

a glance offers no more

are you looking forward to something

or gazing back at the end

the horizon line

the vanishing point

where the earth ends

and the sky begins

or is this where the sky begins

and the earth ceases to exist

where plan and foresight

become fantasy and dream

there is no beginning anymore

just as sure as there is no end

and there is no steady place for decision

just the ground beneath my feet

I can no longer discern the difference

between moving forward or back

the fact is the road remains

just as long either way

*original photo by Kelly Riley*

one year

it’s been a year

one year today

a year of commemorating events

so many firsts without you

holidays, anniversaries, birthdays,

both mine and yours

it’s been a year of longing

a year of grieving

a year of confusion

a year lonelier than I have ever been

it began with her passing,

her, who I never knew

from all of your stories

I felt as if I did,

as if we had been connected in some way

you sent me word of her

and I was overwhelmed

simply knowing what that loss

would have meant to you

I grieved for you

knowing how you would grieve for her

time passed slowly

as days became weeks

and then months

after she died

I never heard from you again

I don’t know what happened to you

where you went

and as many shades of grey

have become black and white

even who you were

real or not

you were real to me

you loved me and taught me

you brought to life parts of me

that I may otherwise

would never have known

most of all

I loved you

I loved you completely

and with total abandon

I held nothing back

and in the context of what we shared

that was quite a feat

I don’t know how to mourn you now

how to mourn my broken heart

how to grieve something so intangible

I don’t know how to grieve us

so I will grieve her today

and remember her as you painted her

to me

Silence

there is something so simple

in the silence

something as soothing

as a warm breeze

something as easy

as breathing

there is something

about the stillness

something that lulls

calming the senses

somewhere in that quiet

there are doors

windows that let in light

peace can be found

in moments like this

understanding can be sifted

until the valuable pieces

are shaken loose

wind rustles the trees

and leaves float

through the air

their simple path

leading them

until they gently come to rest

this is a place for thought

a place for healing

a place of reprieve

truly, it is a day

just like any other

but to pause

to sit within the silence

letting nothing

fill the empty spaces

that is the difference

for today