I crave freedom

I feel the urge to fly.

I want to forget

And just let the days go by.

A tiny little pill

Makes me this happy.

I feel my head in the clouds

I'm sure I'm flying now.

I wake up

With no recollection of time.

My head is pounding

And the day is passing by.

I take two pills this time

The bottle calls out to me.

The bliss lasts longer

I feel completely free.

This addiction is beautiful

It gives me all I want.

Just a tiny little pill

And everything else is gone.

Food

Razors

Enemies

Seducing me

With false promises

We’re all you’ve got, they say

What would you do without us?

Conspiring with my depression

Keeping me bloodied and malnourished

Laughing at me when I tell them to leave

We’re not going anywhere, they proclaim

Manipulating my puppet strings

Eliminating my free will

Setting me up for failure

Unhealthy coping skills

They are not my friends

I’m tired of this

So guess what?

I am

Done

Purity is disgusting-

the planter of defiled creatures

in lands so dirty

that no one will step in the mud

to nurture the children they've created.

A living hellhole for the forgotten

to wallow in concepts

leading to conclusions

about being poison.

Immersed in the feces

of their species,

the purest beings cry

tears of semen

to the sounds of ghosts in the night.

The moon is soft

and the sun does thunder,

rolling and crashing

back to darkness

where it shines.

Each year the tally

clicks a thousand more,

as the hidden shadows

pretend not to keep score.

Do you see me?

Do you hear me?

Do you know me?

I’m not your porcelain doll

Your Sunday school princess

Or your homecoming queen

I am nothing like I seem

I’m the pedestal child

Seated high a top her glass stool

Desperate and longing to leap off

I’m the child with the cheerful smile

Painted with crimson sin

I’m the little girl with the big bright eyes

Lined in Black

I’m the baby with the soft voice

And the punk rock soul

I’m not your porcelain doll

Your Sunday school princess

Or your homecoming queen

I am nothing like I seem

Do you see me?

Goldilocks in fishnet stockings

Do you hear me?

The quiet child with the sharp tongue and sarcastic wit

I’m your virginal porn star

Soft pink lace and vibrators

I’m your obedient rebel

Park college graduate part anti-authority bitch

I’m your delicate flower

Bent over backwards and fucked on a Saturday night

I’m not your porcelain doll

Your Sunday school princess

Or your homecoming queen

I am nothing like I seem

I am More

I am More than the numbers

The numbers on the scale

The numbers on my jeans

More than the 9 digits the government uses to keep track of me

I am More

More than the number of men who have filled me

More than the number of degrees collecting dust in the attic

More than the numbers in my bank account or on my paycheck

More than the 5 digit zip code that informs the suits if I am rich or poor

I am More

More than the numbers our world uses to

Define us

Measure us

Categorize us

Divide us

I am More

More than the numbers that our society has determined can decide

If we are worthy

Worthy of Love

Worthy of Friendship

Worthy of a Job or a Home

Worthy of our own Existence

I am More

And I will not let the obsession with the numbers

Dictate how I feel about myself because

I am More than the numbers

Numbers can not measure or determine

My beauty

My value

My worth

My existence

I have a right to be MORE

Shared moment

Mutual act

Eternal link

Enduring consequences

Bound to silent chains

Arduous efforts

To wrest free from

These joint shackles

We cannot

A loss so great could not be mourned with tears.

The true lament is lunacy, engineered throughout the years.

At the tender age of ten, I could not process your transition.

But the thought of never seeing you put me well out of commission.

Now in my adulthood I still don't know if I can manage.

With your passing you took my sanity as collateral damage.

Maybe one day you will show up in a dream,

In all your glory, with a halo shining like a laser beam.

I often feel your presence and sophisticated grace.

You seem to whisper in my ear, "It's staring you right in the face."

What I would do for your rare wisdom and foresight. 

I sure would sleep much better through the night. 

My eyes begin to droop. My brain begins to snoop, about my day, if I'm feeling okay, and other such bits and pieces. It mixes it all, with a splash of emotion and sound, swirling colors all around. Next I know, I'm standing in a city, a city in stood in once long ago. Like long ago, the city is covered in snow. It's cold but I don't care. I want to play out there. My mummy bundles me, until I feel I can barely get free. She allows me out, reminds me of my limit, and pushes my lip back in when I pout. I mind her well, because that woman can yell. She feeds me warm bread and hot soup that doesn't come from a can, I think it's grand. Soon after I'm again out in the snow, she shakes her head, but let's me go. I remember that winter well, that winter in the Indiana snow.