It’s made of silence.
The silence
that filled our house
fills our house
on days we
just can’t seem to pretend
that shallow
questions
and silly lies
are enough
to say
in passing.

It’s made of silence
that comes up
on days
I come up
off the wrong
side
of the bed
and I can’t tell you
that I hate this
life
sometimes.
Sometimes
I hate
this life.

For you though
I lay shallow bricks
of unspoken words
to build
hollow relationships
that allow me
to simply
get by.

Get by you
as you enter
the kitchen
get by you
as you walk
to exit
the house
get by you as you
wander through life
as if
it came upon you
and the stillness
of your face
is not
of your doing.

I’ll get by you.

And all I need
is to say to you
things
that may fill you.
I fear your silence though
and that maybe
you just won’t
take in
what I
put out.

And what if you
choke on
words
that...

I will write of you.
I will write to you.
It won’t always be beautiful.
I’m not full of love stories
you’ll find yourself deep in
my mind.
You didn’t ask to visit.

You will be held there.
Time will be spent there.

I will drench you in
love I’ve never felt.
Pain will cut me
and I’ll beg for your touch.
But
don’t make me beg for your
touch.

You’ll have all of me on
days I can’t seem to find
myself.
I’ll be lost in you.
Finding you on pages
as I seek.

I’ll come up for air
when immersion is suffocating.
You’ll miss me in those
moments
and be reminded of those days
I wanted air
more than you.
But air
was never enough.

I cannot be convinced that
chance led me to
a gorgeous suffocation.

I’ll die like this.

Yet
you won’t let me go.

And I’m not sure
who loves who more.
Maybe we owe our time
to confusion
curiosity.

We dive into each other
when this world...

Arise above, and sink,
Below.
Choose.
Don’t falter, don’t hesitate.
Escape.
Forget. Breathe, let
Go.
Hold on.
Intensely, hold on.
Justify.
Knowing, it’s time to,
Let go.
Manipulate your mind.
Negative.
Opposition.
Positive.
Quit.
Restart.
Stay.
Take off.
Unleash.
Waver.
X-cape.
Yearn.
Zen.

In a house of silence,
The deepest sighs,
Exude the loudest vibrations.

Footsteps down the stairs,
Carry anger in their descent.
I can no longer decipher natural sound,
From intended hurt.

The closing of a cabinet,
Never seems to be just that.
It’s a muffled slam,
But in this house of silence,
Whispers may as well be yells.

How nothing screams,
But all is loud.

Upon entering a house haunted with history,
Of dead brothers,
American cells,
Russian righteousness,
And emotional hells,
I inhale,
As if oxygen can clog my ears,
And quickly ascend up those stairs.
Breathing again,
Only when my door has closed.

My sprints,
Have been mistaken for anger.
But I merely cannot stand the loud silence,
That tightens my chest.
I escape,
Before this tightness becomes frustration,
Frustration,
Anger.
Anger,
Holes in the walls.

This is panic around noise,
They’ve boiled it...

My dear boy,
one day you will open your eyes
to carnage
on a tv screen
you believed was designed
for your entertainment.

You’ll remember the day
cartoons screamed
in joy
or sometimes in fear
how comical it was
then.

But someone switched the channel
and young as you are
you know
not all things are comical.

You’ll remember the scenes
and something inside of you
will forever be altered.

This
this is how
they steal your youth.

But you’ll notice
how they stayed silent.
As if carnage
could not affect
the tasks of the day.

My dear boy,
one day
you’ll notice
how they were
always
silent.

How masks
were worn
in your innocent presence.
You will be tempted
to create your own
as if by some fault of yours
you stepped into
this silent ball.

My dear boy,
remember the days
you laughed with the tv screen
animations
screaming joy
and how you let yourself
be...

My soul bleeds for you friends
so that art can land on pages
yet to be flipped.
Buried in darkness
light comes out beautiful.

I think I hurt for you
as if my art
can’t be born in joy
the way it can be born
in dark
and darker days.

Blood must fall
for words to flow
but it’s not true!
It’s not true!
The majestic
bring words to pages
just as powerfully.
Maybe I have just not
been brought to the majestic.

I bleed for you friends
so you may use me
as a conduit for what
you have to say.

But you never told me
to turn the lights off
I hit the switch
myself.
Assuming
you won’t come to me
among witnesses
and here you are
and I have candles burning.

You come through me
I a mere vessel
a solid form
that allows this thing
this thought
to land
beautifully.

But it’s not always beautiful.
You tear through
the ugly
to find
something worth holding onto.

Did I create an...

We’re pulled apart
the wall
is a floor.

We can’t stomp it out.

We built it separately
laying down layers
while the other sleeps
leaves
works in hours of the night.

I built this
with the words
I never said
never say.

I collect them
fresh
some
I spend my time
dusting off.

It’s invisible
but I feel it when
I open my mouth.
Love beats in my
chest
but I
cannot reach you with words
you will not hear.
So it pours from my eyes.
You’re uncomfortable.
So it’s thrown with my fist.
But I missed the point
as you did.

To tear down a wall
of unspoken love
is to tear myself open.
And I remember the ripping
feeling alive
but how much scarier
death is
when oxygen so readily
runs through my body.

You bury the wall
under rugs.
But I can’t pretend
that silence
won’t consume me.

I’m choking on words laid by
my mind
in a place where emotions
only make us human.

Things left unsaid...

Remember those pills you swallowed
that numbed you.
Remember that alcohol that followed
that numbed you.
Remember that hit that made
the world dizzy.
Remember how you thought
this was the only way to be.
Numb.

Remember how death was
close
But never close enough
and how you didn’t know
if you really wanted it.

Remember last night
coming back in the morning
sitting in a bed
soaked in piss
and vomit
you barely remember
coming up.

How bleach
couldn’t wash you.

Remember
begging for death
while clinging to hope that
one day
one day
it would all be different.

Most of all
remember that day
where you had enough
of your own bullshit.

Remember that day
when you decided
numb
was not a state of living
but a breathing version
of being dead.

Remember that day
that you chose pumping blood
discomfort
and fear.

Don’t ever forget choosing fear.
It breaths life
into collapsing...

I beg myself to be
more generous
more loving
more open.
Free.
Decisive.
Able to throw hats over
fences and catch them
on other sides.

But I look down
holding a hat that’s
been with me for years.
And I bang it against
my face.

I draw blood
but no solutions.

Time
playing a cruel game
as why am I still
sitting
while in my mind
I flew away
but
wings will not carry me.

I wish to be
in water
cleansed
born anew
but water isn’t holy
in a hand that tore
off a cross years ago.

But I’m learning
and my aged soul
begs to differ the words I
say
that I have not made progress.
But I am progress
and it has made me.

A broken body
teaching me to find peace in
stillness
begging to slow down
lessons taught on dark and darker days.
You can’t rush your healing.

And so they say.

Just as she says
slow down
slow down
But I feel like
I’m only
moving backwards now.

Replaying...

Remember those days
when you were wild.
Your heart open
and a bottle was never needed
to bring you to the surface
of a world
that begged for your existence.

Speak my child
in that tone you knew as
free.

Sing my child
in that voice
that wasn’t muffled.
Not in closed spaces
in cars racing at speeds
that the slightest glance
could kill you.

Forget my child
that you could ever
be killed.
You cannot be killed
except in those moments
when you sit quietly
with so much to say.

Speak.
And learn again
what it means to live.
You only kill yourself
in your silence.