ogygia ~ a poetry collection

laodamia
instead of counting
stars and dreams,
i count tears and whispers.
i still and wither
by haunted streams
till every deity fades.
my father calls,
his creature brays.
i dip my fingers
in this liquid moonlight,
only grief coating my skin
as my bones turn to ash
and i sink into the melted tin.
here is where i'll stay.
here, where i've always been.

mark of a freshly destroyed heart
thin silver gum wrappers
folded into hearts.
whispered pinterest boards
shared with soft smiles.
there are
so many things
i wish to give to you.
but i doubt myself
and hold them close.

philosophers and poets
philosophers dream
not unlike poets.
the future is bright,
the past is dark,
the present is gray.
they both think
that if they stare
at the night sky
long enough,
the universe will
reveal to them
its secrets.
yet,
human is what we are
and this is not to be.

recurring dream
not much has changed
over the ages
when it comes
to humanity.
we have
the same thoughts
and share
the same evils.
and the vision
of what we've dreamed
humanity could be
from the very beginning
is the same
recurring dream.

evolution
evolution is
a lie
we've been told
to make believe
we are better
than the animals
we truly are.

past curtain call
the lights fall
and a light flush
dusts the air.
the tightness
coiled in our stomachs
loosens.
a post-production beam
spreads across our faces,
and once the curtains close
and the audience disperses,
we whoop and holler quietly.

fresh
i hope to wake up
every morning
as fresh and clear-headed
as the water
that falls
from the clouds.

spring storm
through the window,
lightning flashes
in the distance,
and rain follows,
pitter-pattering
atop our roof
not a second later.
the thunder has yet to come,
but this storm sounds so beautiful, still.

from the sun to the sea

a crown of flames
encircles my head.

how arrogant-
burning is
inevitable.

a rope of fire
ties 'round my torso.

how foolish-
this is not
a garment to wear.
it has entrapped me.

my skin is burning
up, up, up-

how idealistic-
to think i could escape
without penalty.
even with wings,
i can not be free.

my head spins...

is this
how icarus felt
when he fell
from the sun to the sea?

rhythm
static, steady beats-
is this my heart or the drums?
erratic heretic.
blame it on
my voice,
my eyes,
my hair,
my choices.
i am no more
than a rhythm
to you.

caged
prove to me
the love you keep
locked up inside your heart,
longing to get out
with each drumming beat
is pure.

blasphemy

there will be people
who tear at you
for the sake of themselves.
they say if they aren't cruel to you,
they'll be cruel to themselves.
they say you're doing them a favor,
that they need you
to let them
keep doing it.

this
is
a lie.

you are not a victim.
do your best to rise
and tear them down,
and if you can't get up,
spit at their feet
and call them out
for their blasphemy.

i am a monster
i am a monster.
why else do my hand end with talons
and my feet end in claws?
i rip them off-
i can't stand to hurt anyone.
my talons always tremble
and my claws clack against the floor
because my legs bounce with nerves.
my mind is a scramble
of every thought i keep inside
and filter to keep from being cruel.
i am humble and i am kind,
but it is something i work for constantly.
i am not a good person.
i am a monster.

(final)
"you're so strong"
every testament to my strength
breaks me.
when you whittle away at everything,
it begins to whittle away at you.