Violet

Lay me down in this once suffocating silken cocoon.
Opalized, left for your altar.
I am carrying a Mirror.
Pupils dilate.
Heart swept, soft wake.

"April into May"

This motion in fluidity, a gentle wrapping of energy.
The feeling you have when your hand is out in the wind from a moving car,
but instead it's in your stomach.
There is a desire to grasp it, a static tingling in your third eye.
This is all a dance, so intricately complacent but burrowing into your heart.
Float. Epiphany. Finally.
Sunshine leaving her scent on you.
Pull you in, connect, reflect.
This path is never lonely because once one is out you let another in.
Rolling in warm sand during low tide.
Gulping the salt of tears, no more.
I let it flow and no longer am making cups from my palms,
because emotional health is above all in order to ground yourself,
TO yourself.
Heal yourself, Heal yourself, Heal yourself.
Clarity comes next. Be ready.
Birds take flight.

S.M.

Rory

Three years ago, I became a mother.
First and foremost, my child.
My star seed, My heart outside my body.
My connect to something deeper and worth being.
No one can stand in the way of the love for a mother and her child.
That doesn't mean the child needs to be from her womb,
or even nourished from her bosom.
Just an expansion of love onto levels you can not understand until you look into dilated pupils of someone who thinks you are a god in their new universe.
Held to the light, Halo, like a first born son.

A family once together,
even now separated will have faith in our child that love prevails.
It resides inside him. A light that shines through his eyes,
his small fingers in my hair, little breaths as he falls asleep,
and the stars that rest on his eyelashes.
Float off to carry dreams, that he'll reach in his future.
That I'll hold him up to reach things now that he will then remember.
He is a universe, my little galaxy that once spun cosmos in the milky way.
Now dancing in rooms with friends,
somersaults and smiles and soft glances up at mom.

My little dreamer.
Hula hooping through Saturn with bouncing planets on a play date.
Now reading me stories I once wrote for you.
Pride-eyes in growing like a flower, the perfect garden.
Apple of my eye.

Happy Birthday Rory Salvatore

Forced karma, and you're still pulling thread from dilated pupils.
Wrap your wrists and untie all your knots.
What's done has been done before; you left the records on repeat.
Sheer curtains with the 7 A.M. sun, I remembered how I got here,
and why this had begun.
Laser tag and I pin you down.
Neon glow pouring from your collar bones as my lips meet in the hollowed out hope.
Soft orange crown, tracing with fingertips, sharp teeth, and breath meeting.
There is spirit here, dancing at midnight parties.
You'll meet me someday, in the outline of a heartfelt beat.
The noisy static of wandering souls.

-S.M.

222 B

Songs that somehow saved your life back then, somehow saving your life again through nostalgia that you aren't interested in tasting.
Bringing you to your knees, remembering lives passed.
You knocked on the glass so gently, you wrote letters and put them in hands that could no longer feel. Lungs that could no longer breathe.
Spinning chairs and steel caged spider webs, the people here, weren't there back then.
I went through a period of time where I was crawling at warp speed,
eating circus colors as they lay in my head to drown the emotions I was hiding.
You want to disclose my past, then maybe you should know it first.
Dreams that told the future, too late, just in time.
Just like when I met you, but it was worth something then,
a life worth saving, when I would have given mine.

My friend, whom I wrote to even after passing.
Who shook me through dreams years after.
The only one who has ever returned, How did I attribute you to this?
Revisiting these years back and tearing pieces out of journals to swallow it all down.
Every single year.
I lay back down in that attic. I am sitting in that park. I am flooded with the phone calls of things I could not answer, and I'm yelling our favorite songs in your room.
The voltage that hit us all and we scattered like rats,
I've still never been able visited your grave, our childhoods are in there with you, forever.


r.i.p. Kid

Out here.

Humans are constantly evolving. Even on days where we are walled in by our own eradicated thoughts, all nerves exposed and pupils are dilated because of the overload on senses.
I feel it is best to stay transparent in trying times, reach when you need to.
My motives involve healing for myself and for my child's sake so I can continue to do the best I can for us.
If you think there is anything more than that then you have to realize the words you are spreading are not thoughts in my head,
your words are only reflecting you.

My words are reflecting myself, my struggling through concepts,
to collect myself, to realize all the cleared out paths that are in front of me and what it is exactly that intimidates me about that forward flow running through me.
Collecting the things that hurt, analyzing them and then releasing them.
If you someone doing this, reach the fuck out instead of running your mouth.
That is the most significant advice I can really give.
Reach out to people!
Why is that SO incredibly difficult, to climb over ourselves to connect?
To put all your fabrications down, the things you said don't have to always feel that way, and they won't.
People get so offended when others are sensitive lately and that is incredibly concerning. Drop the fear; Communicate.

I am making a lot of repetitive thought induced posts lately.
But anyone who has known me for longer than this breach of contract shit with my soul knows how deep I am in this.
Those feelings are not always eloquently put, or clear;
the clarity fizzles out sometimes.
That is where they are facing their own fears and you are watching a magnificent internal battle.
This is how we GROW.

Anxiety trigger

Frequency too high.
I am the sound that doesn't disconnect.
Drumming fingertips on the floor to feel the noise in my head.
Rolling in sheets and down a hill, unravel.
Breath held for seventeen minutes then release.
Bass pounding sounds that come up through my chest.
Clicking pens. I'm going for a year long walk.
Concrete, I want warm moss.
Lock jaw and your tongue is numb.
Consume the vibration.
Fading lilacs.