Spelling B****

I hear S’s and H’s
I’s and T’s
I hear them under every thank you
Beneath every please
I hear I’s and D’s
And IOTs
Hidden in the murmur
Behind every tease
I hear the B, the I
And in them, everything
About myself I hate
I hear the things you tell yourself
And the things you think of me
You believe I have a child’s ear
But I am not deaf to these


My every feature’s wanting
And my reasoning is thin
My anger’s somewhat daunting
But my feeling’s oft within

My enchantment’s only fleeting
My ignorance less so
As I’ve spent my days deleting
All the things I ought to know

My beauty is unheard of
My charm is somewhat forced
My heart is cynical in love
My mind and tongue are long divorced

I’ve done nothing that I’ve wanted
A few things I never planned
But if we face the sea undaunted
Surely somewhere we’ll find land


Happy New Year!

Another Lost Soul

I don’t want to be the angry one;
I don’t want to be another lost soul:
But it’s burned there all along,
Been there like a siren song,
And I don’t know how to vanquish
What I barely can control.

I’ve been really behind on comments and posts the last few days (Week? Two?). I’ll probably remain behind for a little while more. Sorry (again). I mentioned at some point previously that I’d probably be a little distant… Still, you all deserve a lot more attention than you’re getting right now. Well, whether I’m on or not, I haven’t forgotten about you; and hopefully, I’ll be able to find a proper balance of things.

Angry Spirits

You know that you have angry spirits
When there are holes in your walls:
These spirits haunt you even absent —
Though, they may not be so bad.
Once you get to know them,
You find they’re really only sad,
Trying to grasp upon this life
When they can only seem to drift;
But such a haunting, we so often find,
Only widens yonder rift;
And the deepest, darkest pits
Are made of our own fear to fall.

On Broken Glass


You say the words as if
You’ve never acted on it:
That voice;
That feeling.
You say the words as if
There’s not a wall that bears your mark:
A hole;
A scar.
You say the words as if
No one ever hears you;
But I do.
I do…

So then, why don’t you?

Final Daughter

I am the final daughter:
The princess, and the fool.
In me burns a fire
That water cannot cool.

In me burns a fire
Where all else see just ice
But all melts away in ire,
And what is left to face?

You see a final daughter,
That no kindness could cool.
She thought that she was fire;
She’s nothing but a fool.