They say, “It’s always dark in here.” when they're only skin deep If they could sink through my pores They would know laughter seems to rupture my organs And no, I am not dying This is what life is like Joy so near pain Death so in love with life It is a cycle Too beautiful to be imitated But people try They love to walk a thin line Believing they are daring When they really are mocking What can only be seen skin deep

Earth’s darkest space is where the blessed walk. Before dawn, 4:00am, the holy hour, they are moving, walking on stones to get to sand, clawing through trees to reach a village, suffering gracefully. The sun stretches, covering their toes and now they are rejoicing, dancing, crying, singing, embracing, the dawn and the darkness.

We bloomed in clusters above the soil, then bounded in branches and stretched towards sunlight. Weather eroded us, but here we are, in harvest, producing so much and nothing shedding and repeating blooming and busting open life spills onto the lawn and we hope that too much fruit could be plentiful this time around

security has always been like smoke hard to grasp once it leaves my body best hold it in, and wait the first slip always comes through my lips, quivering gasps reveal repeat offenses, so I don’t until I do when its already too late and I’m flying across the room

I wouldn’t mind getting full with you, fat and plump, greased and satisfied, beyond capacity, over indulgent, stuffed I could hibernate off of us, and enjoy this, enjoy you, my favorite meal, seconds and thirds, please bring dessert, leave me off my feet, round and happy, sticky and sloppy, tasting every fingertip, this is bliss, this is everything, and more and more and more and more….