Revenge.

When all I have left Is the memory of your grin As I lost everything All I can think of is Revenge.

So as I walk to the steps Of your steel castle I ignore the cries of the blooming flowers Or the warnings of the wind. I ignore the moon watching over me And the threats of the door. Because all I can think of Is how good revenge will feel.

I open your bedroom door And there you sleep. So ignorant of me here As my blade begs to slice your throat.

I raise the blade high And all the nothings close their eyes As I bring down the blade You used to kill my family.

Karma sings in bliss And the blood seeps to your sheets. Revenge is all I had left Now what will become of me?

She throws herself at the shore, Body clinging to the gritty, sandy shoulders. Her wet fingers dig into the flesh of the earth, Blue skin spread thin so as to wrap herself around each and every Sharpened glass crystal that fills the beach.

She yearns to pour herself heavily into the arms of the bluff, To let herself seep into the edges of the eroded earth, And lift her body from the cavernous salted mouth.

But even with her arms tightly clasped around his neck, And her white topped head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, The shore never fails to push her away.

For each grain of sand that lines the shore knows better than to follow her tides. The ocean, you see, is a tempest, turbulent kind, Never satisfied with only one shore. She eats and devours the earth, Unfurling her vast body to drown everything, Until all that remains is salty with her brine.

Indifferent bird, Unmoving from its soft nest, Feathers flying free.

What is it your asking It’s something I do not know You keep on asking things of me And I just say huh Okay I’ll do it But here’s the thing What is it you’re asking me

NO SERIOUSLY WHAT WAS I SOPOSED TO WRITE ABOUT

Crying, That’s all I can do, As the rain starts to fall. Everything I ever knew is gone.

I start to scream, As I stand up, Blaming the one person responsible, As the weather begins to thunder.

I run, Run towards the person I blamed, The rain starts to pour.

The person starts to run, Until I catch up, And stab them, Over and over again, Until they fall over. The rain stops and the sun peeks out.

A prophetic sunset indicates a sailor’s delight. Rest assured, on a landlocked summer night. Ice cubes play percussion against the glass. Setting the stage for an evening desired to last. The wise porch, built on beams of memories. Drinks are filled with empathetic remedies. The crooked smile of a crescent moon, welcomes the evening into the night.
Bonfire flames stretch to the atmosphere. Shooting stars dance with no fear. An evening that started with a red sky, Has rolled into a party that’ll never die.

I feel so pathetic remembering those days. How easily I was convinced; manipulated How good things seemed; felt When you wear rose-tinted glasses All the red flags just look like flags But then, how often do I see flags? I should have still taken note Regardless of hue I acted miserably, seduced by a promise A promise I always knew would be broken But hungrily, I played along. Until the day I broke. I am still shaking, I am not ready to call you by name.

The day smiled It smiled on all creation

In the midst of these sullen days We had found cause To be happy

It was a leap into the light But everyday before we punctured that tarp of gloom One pop at a time

Pop, pop, pop and punch We pounced into the other side Filled with relief and expectation

The light Not blinding but shy Like the blush of dawn Or the tint of gloaming

It felt soft and quick Like it would drain out just as we soaked it in

No matter

We knew not if this light would last But we knew we had found a way to find it

I visited my mother’s grave When I was leaving a yellow butterfly flew Just outside my passenger window I knew she was my mother’s spirit Visiting me She stayed next to me In comfort For what seemed like a long time Or did time stand still for her

Chairs and tables, Once forced in place, now dance gracefully, a silent tango with the wind and the sun, unsullied by the weight of the day, unshackled from the fate of their many bacterial rendezvous -

Chairs and tables, No longer debted to the ungrateful human, Sway in the moonlight, consuming new strength in their wooden legs, a levity only seen before in the untouched bowels of a furniture store -

Let the humans build their own fortress, blissfully unaware - to the joy their absence brings to the table and the chair