Tears/Steam/Phoenix/Dream

Tears, falling from the ceiling and crawling down the walls,
collect into a pool of memories of you.Smiles that once warmed me,
conform into something new, exiled. Each piece drops a different scene,
Congealing together, I see your sharp teeth for the first time,
that opiate you drilled in me is worn out,
It’s absence resounds the Banshees Theme,
Every waking moment, a dream of limbo,
a dream of waking.

Shaking Seems To Clean Me.
Breaking out reams, Scribing
A Chicken-scratch soliloquy.

Tears, at first only leaking, pick up steam and
the Geysor hits the fan that slings it all so violently
at the walls, Scrapes the paint off. The abrasive
flows over me, the Pool began a puddle,
now the puddle is enveloping My feet
I feel the memories soak in, skin softens,
up my shins, Dissolving, now, Dissolving,
realizing my insolvency to you,
it’s at my knees, as here I sit,
no want to stand, Over my hips,
elbows on knees it’s over my hands,
rising, the cold is making me shake and
shiver, past the point of no return
it’s over my scripture, over my navel,
So icy cold it starts to burn,
I start to scream, But lung capacity is breached,
as the levels reach up my chest, I plunge my face
full force into the water I am Cleansing.
Cleansing.
Cleansing

Waking seems to cleanse me,
Floating in a sea of memories;
Perceive it ending.

Open my eyes, see the pages I’ve transcribed,
feel them wet as newborn babes,
Look up to the sky, ceiling dry,
It’s raining outside,
pitter
patter
pitter
patter
no more onto the page,
from my face. I wipe my eyes.
Taste the tears.
It’s all mine.