Red Stone

the red stone is crumbling

and the people with it
down they go into the mist
wondering who that are
i know me and what is true
and what is true is nothing

Dominion

Character:

Patient # 40827

Patient # 40827: It's always at night when I stop feelings, when I start crying
Stop being happy feeling gloved
Its always when the quiet around me gets so ominous but I can't help but feel as if I'm alone in the world. I know there are people out there but my brain says, "You can't hear anything, feel anything, see anything, smell anything" there is nothing there.
Its called sensory deprivation and it's a great form of torture because the person slowly goes insane.
All I see is the light coming from the computer screen and I hear only my fingers tapping at the keys. I thought when you were told you were loved; you were supposed to know it forever.
It seems that I make people go through the ringer before I think they might even care about me. Mrs. Smith got upset in 9th grade because I wrote down that I wondered who would show to my funeral. I don't think it would even have one.
The problem is, I need to know, when you fall in love do you stop hurting, do you stop wishing for something more, do you suddenly realize that for someone you are perfect?
Or do you need to know that before you can fall in love, no I'm not sad, I've got a headache and I don't want to face the real world and dominion is sounding better and better with those little cot like beds
With their hospital corners and nightly checks, there you suffocate from people watching you too much. Where you know they don't really care you're only a job, but at least I don't have to think for myself or worry because I figure I'll be there "be cured" and they'll take care of me make sure I don't get hurt and I can just stop feeling, which I must say would be nice to just stop wondering if people care or not and just KNOW with a certainty that they didn't.
Must be lovely.

Stars in my Palm

There are Stars in my palm,
And symbols and lines,
Showing who I am,
And what I'll be.

My fingertips have swirls like waves,
poised to crash over mountains.
On my right hand,
there are scars through the middle of my palm,
on my left,
veins show through in blue lines.

She says I'll have a strange life,
like I've had a normal one so far,
my friends know what I mean,
they've had as strange a life as me.

She looks into the bowl
and warns me of the future.

She deals.
My cards always hold
Queen of Cups, Death reversed, the Hangman, the Fool, and the Priestess.
My Cards,
My Life.

There are stars in my palm,
but beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
and so is truth.

Bridge

You ask me
where I go,

when I retreat
from the world.

I'm sitting,
on a bridge
in a gray sweater, and faded jeans,
looking at the autumn leaves.

I'm feeling
the bleak emptiness
that comes from crying
for long periods of time.

I'm
watching the road
that winds away,
wishing I were on it.

I'm all alone,
and I
like it that way.

I see the water beneath me
stopped in time
by a fallen tree

I hear the birds sing
and the leaves rustle
and I am at peace.

But eventually
I return to the world

Where I am the water,
Fighting to get past the tree
But still
stopped in time.

**Published in Slam! An Anthology of Spoken Word Poetry Volume 2, March 17, 2003