Survival means Breathing dust made of glass Heartache like stickpins Racing through veins It means sucking up lava And spitting out shards of ice It’s walking on rusty nails And bleeding out your disease It’s burdening cancerous boils Of sadness and despair As love works it’s magic Making all the hard stuff Worth the surviving
Experience falls upon us Settling in layered beds Muddy rust, shiny silver Crystals of every color Debris and rotted roots Every single one of us A unique mix of sediment With treasures not easily seen But always worth digging for
There it was just lying there Purpose holding tight to hope Clinging so hard to the dwindling Dominance of a careless faith That the ground began to rise As if dark itself was being born
Like glitter falling from a broken sky Jagged little pieces of atmosphere Cut through these hands of mine There are no silver horizons and Only shards to illustrate the moon Who will fall out of these reflections Once the ground collects their souls
As much as I’ve read and as much as I’ve dealt with my own situation I’m still shocked at how certain things will trigger me. Each time I’m telling myself to just get over it already. Yes, as a victim I tell myself that. I’m ashamed and infuriated that some things still attack the parts…
She fell away from me Differently from the others I sat watching as pieces Fell apart then together As she struggled earnestly And sometimes gave up Exhausted from the trying She had found and built Something solid finally A plan, a person, a life full So many smiles and laughs So much beauty and love…
They call it adrenaline But it’s just chemical fear I can taste it on my tongue Feel it speed through veins Like alcohol, thin and sharp It churns in my stomach Makes my nerves radiate And then… I’m a machine I’m not me… I’m a robot Something more innate Wakes up and steps up And…
