Little Bird Poetry

 Blood rushes  to my ears through my veins it runs from itself knuckles white now backed into my corner  no where else to go why do I raise  brass covered fists to fight the same monster who I know will always be there maybe one day it will disapear not ever again to be caught glimpse of from dark corners or bright downtown side walks why he lingers i'm never sure  the truly bad days I don't see him at all feeding into my fear  of where he may again appear haunting my steps as I go on how do I ever win a fight with a beast formed from the parts of me I never wanted to start with fighting him never gets easier and letting it go impossible

 Heavy feet dragging across dirty wooden floors as clutter minds run over the brim coffee overflows from chipped rims of half washed mugs being pulled from the sink that's been dripping for weeks a knock echoes through the space ignored as the rain continues to fall watching cars go by in the autumn afternoon hands brushing keys as it attempts to flow out yet nothing comes but memories tainted with grief  oozing from the screen with pain  simmering from beneath plucking a heart's strings only to create broken songs one that carries the same tune  day after day never ceasing in it's playing as the record skips and runs again deer run through the empty field  dew burdened grass bending beneath the delicate hooves careful as can be  as to not disturb the peace why so careful when the prey has no hunter except for the ones they choose to create from fear though nothing proves it was ever there such a delicate thing these deer skittish through they graze and roa...

 Time passes by in fading waves lake water brushing the shore  in a cold autumn rain  another cycle passing along as it always does nothing ever stays the same and that's the one thing we're sure of pieces never quite fitting from the places we take them from all broken puzzles  seemingly never having a larger picture just as we are moving along and never really reaching it a completion never really knowing what we want in the end is it better to remain how we are  or to try to be a person we haven't decided on yet

  Dad, I guess I'll never really understand it the years of abuse I have endured from you hair pulling  nauseating  nail splitting  and screams fueled by your own narcissistic desires to destroy everyone else  so that you might build yourself up on our ruins why is it you'd call me the whore  when one of your blood was born by another woman why is it  you'd burn my belongings while liquor burned your throat why is it  you'd tear apart my heart when you never had one, to begin with you are what authors use to craft a monster cruelty without a cause seemed to please you more than your wife nothing was ever enough for you all those nights spent stumbling upstairs  outside sweating in the cold dirty cigarettes laying at your feet burying you in your own lusts you've ruined my ability to love as you never really loved me you were supposed to be the man to never break my heart as your daughter  I am ashamed to claim your blood not a man in thi...

 Air winds through loose hair As road runs beneath Wind rushes into my nose  Breathing gets a little easier Rumbles of thunder Shake the ground beneath Men move like lightning Without lifting their feet Freedom is coursing Through my lungs  And my blood As men who ride steel horses Remind me what its like to feel alive

Pray my lovely girl pray for better tomorrows ignore the hounds beneath your feet and try to dance amongst the leaves every day is a gift although you don't want to receive it what is this you hide scars on pale flesh that glimmer in pale moonlight why do your tears shimmer as they fall hitting your lap as rain strikes the lake all wet all the time yet never seeming to fill or drain more with each one dropping what is this my darling girl this emptiness I have found a once-mighty oak now cut clean through sap pooling at its roots coming to accept the coming fall

Wooden floors creak under bare feet Afternoon light comes through high windows Joy should be filling the empty holes But warm tea instead trickles in Damp hair wrapped in cotton Baggy clothes and books over skin Where is the passion I sought Hidden beneath my shell I find her there Laying dormant Sleeping for however long it may take Little black dogs With snoring breaths Lay across my blanketed lap No one ever told me That purgatory Would be so comfortable But numbing all at once