Saturday, July 18, 2015


Is there a word
A truth
A thought once whispered
That can help define me
Will I always be that soul
Searching for my body

Is there a place
A moment
A paragraph written
That can help define my call
Will I always be that body
Searching for my soul

Thursday, July 16, 2015


My heart is stitched upon my sleeve
The thread is growing bare
It doesn't even match my coat
It's frayed beyond repair

Some are born with an armored sleeve
Immune to wear and tear
Others are born to pick your strings
Clipping you without care

Some are born with a plastic sleeve
Looking true but not quite real
They pull you in and steal your breath
Consuming you as a meal

My heart is stitched upon my sleeve
With a needle made of steel
Its colors bleeding, its unsewn parts
Weaving deeply for me to feel

Saturday, July 4, 2015

The Bird and the Wolf

There used to be a bird that loved me
Always dropping food on the ground
She loved to see me pick it up
Just so I could hang around

There used to be a wolf that spied me
Always inching in from afar
I would sink my hands through his coarse mane
Forgetting just who we are

I realized one day
That the bird didn't love me
Nor did the wolf, as he spied

The food that was dropped
Was merely a ploy
To make sure the wolf would stop by

I questioned the bird about it
Asking why did this need to be so
She answered plainly and to the point
Don't take offense, that's how things go

I questioned the wolf about it
Asking why did this need to be so
He turned on his tail and looked at his paws
Answering plainly, who knows how these things go