Bitch Face

Short poems can only do so much,
can only say so much.

I am traditional in the sense that I think poems
should be short
and stay in short phrases.

But it seems that I need to shake that opinion off.
Instead I should allow creativity to wake up-

It's held under guard and lock and key.
For with creativity comes the emotions I've hidden from all.

Emotions that harbor sadness and loneliness and fear and sorrow.
All locked far away in the deepest part of myself.

These emotions cause disturbances-
the brain is forgetting things and the mind is wandering into
thoughts full of quick sand.

It is like I am standing at the edge of a sink hole
and I can't move as I'm being pulled into the netherworld.

Am I supposed to feel like this?
When I am achieving my goals and dreams.

I feel empty- I blame the hallmark channel
with all their little movies about how people shouldn't be alone.


How do I stop being alone?
When I don my bitch face without realizing it.

Him

Not about HIM
but about him.

The one I wish I dreamed about.

The one I wish was by my side.

The one I wish I could talk to daily.

The one I wish would wipe my tears away.

He who was created by HIM
to be my soulmate;
the other half of me.

Motifs

Say what you want
but I need to breathe.

To explain away my frustration
or lack there of.

Motifs echo in my works-
hopelessness, dreams, fears, worries, sadness
and there's more.

I shall not traverse on those right now

Although,

I have a black cat;

in another time I would have been staked
as a witch for it.

Intolerance for those who wish
to be more than the status quo.

That intolerance still lurks in the shadows
and I feel it drain me bit by bit.

Short Poem

Poetry

Is in the rhythmic
staccato of hoof beats
caressing the ground.

Closed Eyes & Empty Thoughts

Night, Mare is different than
Nightmare.

Echoes of those nightmares
erase the pleasure of the day.

Images of bloody snow-

A bone rope for a skull bucket
that I pull up from a well-
shakes me.

There is no explanation for
the exhaustion I feel
after those images haunt me
even while my eyes are wide open.

I cannot escape what my brain creates;
Fear and worry leech
my hopes away.

I wish I could say I dream
but I do not dream.
I traverse nightmares
while I sleep.

Disturbing thoughts and empty
wishes build the worlds I walk in.

Sleep; the enemy.

First Draft. Haven't written much lately