Remington

Have you ever tried to explain the horse track that has been dug into our necks and diagnosed anxiety?

What I mean is the hoofbeats that use your collarbones like a hollow rut to win their race and you’re left gasping for breath

But we’re not actually physically dying so why can’t you just build a fucking bridge?

And what they really mean is that I am cursed to see the world through everybody else’s glassy eyed view but it doesn’t matter to another if they cannot see it too

So have you ever tried to put a finger to the horses that gallop across your neck, hoping you’ll lasso them with shots of dark rum and too many chain smoked cigarettes?

Anxiety is a kingdom I have been to before and all its subjects wear masks of surface words because we’re all too fucked up to say what we mean.

What if I told you, friends, that none of us hold our secrets very well?

It hides in every corner of each smile, every breath, we take to cower behind our metaphoric conversations that we say are,

simply politics.

But what if we talked about the politics that are our unstable hearts instead?

The hearts that beat out of sync with no rhythm or time to even write a decent poem line

I had to rip open the scars of my past lovers and look down at a childhood plate full of no self-worth but plenty of calories just to convince myself I had not taken my life that one night.

My traitorous heart offers no comfort or reassurance as he sits across from me and I can feel the beat like our Oklahoman summer night heat.

It’s like those ten sweet seconds awaking from sleep and knowing you are safe, and suddenly remembering what it was like that one time you were woken up and

safety was trampled by a horse in a race you didn’t even know you’d began.

What I mean is how can you tell someone that you can see the world ending while they stare at the pixels on a screen and can’t even understand the music of the beat?

What I mean is how can you tell someone that there is grenade on your neck, exploding over and over and over

and over while you try to stay upright and just try to survive?

What I mean is how can you try to explain to someone what it means to have known a demon on earth and your nightmares are now his playground?

What I mean is how can you tell me that my feelings are wrong when they are the same feelings that help me choose to love you every single day?

What I mean is how can you scream silence while my lungs drown in cigarettes and medication just to numb the vibrations in my neck?

Have you ever tried to explain that knot that sits in between your heart, the one that wraps around your throat like an ice cold hand that’s been left hanging out a rolled down window too long?

Don’t.

Because no matter how hard you try,

a horse will always beat a human.

The supermoon:speechless

Beautifully caught my beautiful friend!

S.A.D.

SAD

I am holding onto sanity with bleeding fingernails

Lingering right off this edge

I feel pushing on the center of my chest like pressurized air

I cannot breathe I cannot breathe I cannot

Sleep is a figment of imagination

Dancing around my eyelids and flirting with my desperate attempts to escape from reality

This chain and ball on my ankle has named itself and seated next to me while I smoke pack after pack of menthol cigarettes

My fingers drum continuously against the side of my leg hoping for some remnant of pain hidden behind denim jeans years ago

Stone eyes weigh down my head and spin my golden threaded spine with nightmares of the past I thought I’d left behind

And I only remember when I startle awake because I think the monster has returned from behind his red curtain

Glass hands filled with smoke shake as I try to wash away the pictures in my mind that flicker like old film

I can only speak through eighth notes, every heartbeat on rest

I can only scream through poetry because emotions don’t exist off the page

I cannot breathe I cannot

From what hell has this darkness risen to take me prisoner?

What depth of my sane in sane mind?

I have learned to keep my monsters under the bed where they belong but I am a child again and now I have fear once more

I should not have hidden them there

They whisper promises of calamity and sanity until I’m leaning over with my fingers at the edge of the bed, clutching tightly

But I’ve clutched so tightly that blood drips and my monsters hiss in delight

The film flickers so fast I cannot even pause or rewind or begin to forget as I remember what was taken from me to make the scenes behind my brain

I cannot breathe

Numbing cold and white noise beckons me under so I take the hand of darkness

It’s like holding the hand of an old friend as he passes me a cigarette laced with dreams and sleep

Slumber so wonderful it taints my eyelids aquamarine and my voice vibrates yellow as if burned by the sun

Sun that breeds light travels down my trachea to the center of my chest and blooms into a sunflower

Warmth like fire races in my veins and I realize it is oxygen

I can breathe

Snow globe

Fluid clears from the depths of my eardrums like bouquets of cotton

I can see you clearly now

And my skin screams like it’s been a fire for a cold campfire night

Your glass fingers cut my shoulders, eliciting a trail of clear glitter water to trickle down our bodies

My eyes leak lakes of melted snow down my ruby red cheeks, cracked and dry

Your eyes darken like shadows that have chased my childhood daydreams, and your hands drag me closer as mine fight to dance away

You are not the prince I thought you were, here to kiss the cursed princess in her snow globe to bring back the sun

You have only brought back more snow and icy throats filled with shards of fear that is not so foggy anymore

I can see the closet hidden in the dark room behind your eyes and I know I have only started my horror movie

And I’ve realized something

I am not the brunette that survives

I am the blonde slut that always dies

And I wish to go back to my snow globe now please

to be an underwater spectacle

To be used, rather than nothing at all.

Empathy

When they lose control, blood boils in my empathetic veins and in my sympathetic pains

Lava spills out of my fingers and colors the end of my cigarette

I fight the darkness like decay seduces a crow and still an open window awakes my skin each morning

Evil drags her claws through honey colored sunshine that illuminates my cloudy Tuesdays

She tells me to drag nails down my legs so that I don’t take a knife to the man sitting next to me, trying to push his boundaries

I may see the purest side of the sun, dripping through my eyelids like the gold eyeshadow that stains my fingertips,

But my eyes see the shadows that linger under the black, colorless trees of night.

The darkness likes to caress me like a dirty whore desperate under a sightless moon

She cries as she sees through cloudy blue eyes because she knows

Knows that I have the darkest cape of the kingdom and yet I curtesy for lords and ladies like a make believe princess,

Hating the ones brave enough that play the villains.

Little Lion

Weep little lion for you’ll never have your heart of courage

Weep little lion for you’ll never lunge like a tundra cat like you once did before

Brace yourself, you’ve wasted all your time fixing all these problems that you’ve logically excused in your own head

But if the fault was not yours, then whose was it but mine?

You’ve really fucked it up this time

Because it was your heart on the line

And did I mind, dear?

Did I?

Cower little lion, remember you’ve seen this all before

Cower little lion you’ll never win like this now can’t you see?

You throw grace in my face, your pride stands alone in this burning train wreck

Now for once listen to your elders or we’ll spend the rest of our days biting our own tongues

And if the fault was not yours, then whose was it but mine?

You’ve really fucked it up this time.

Because it was your heart on the line

And did I mind, lover?

Did I?

Daisy May

She was young and speechless,

When you laid down beside her,

In a dark suit on a dusty mattress.

She cried at her father’s casket, and I stared

at that coffin,

Wondering if I’d be on time

To my own demise

I recognized my own lust that happened to burn behind her eyes too

As the Pastor’s girl got in a dark blue Buggy after Sunday Mass

She was teasing and beautiful in a light blue dress

And I digress that I had to sit

I damned my wife to take on my mistress

And you could bet the church discouraged while we indulged in every sin

That was known.

To.

Man.

We played our parts,

And it was all gone to the wind now.

The Beast

My head has sounds that rouse the dragonflies

They spill my secrets to the the sun, but he’s an okay guy.

Soon, we ran away.

To find a story that was worth saying.

With dirty claws, he ran along a forest floor

With talking bees and singing trees that wept about their stolen wool goat fur

The sky wasn’t big enough at all

It broke apart for the creatures that came down like the first cold snow.

He was scared, so he returned back to his home

Back to his princess with her friendly, forest friends

Everything that was once green, had been turned black by ruined blackened bookends

This is the story of the creatures that came down like snow

And slowly ruined us all

They bled like the reckless nights we used to dance away

I wish somebody had told me, beloved, that you came last.

You were not the first beast to place his dirty claws on me.

But you will be the last.

The last.

Little Bird

Little bird fly

Won’t you leap?

As this word leads on

Time after time

So don’t cry little sparrow

It’ll be alright

Come morning light

With sunset brings new sight

So don’t cry little dove

My angel from above

Give me your all,

In front of the whole wide world

Under the bright blue moon that brightens this night

Little bird fly

Won’t you try?

As dark fades to a yellow gold

Time says goodbye in all stories told

And at half past five

Their gods still have not shown

So we slaved with the sins on our back

we’ve yet to atone.

Little bird,

Try.

Little pieces

So, I’ve never told anyone this. And I may not be the only one who has ever done this. But I write quotes on pieces of paper I find on the ground and then put them back where I find them so that someone on the off chance might find it. You never know who might see the words you right. So I always hope there might be that one person out there that has seen my quotes on the little forgotten pieces of trash that are lost forever in the wind.