blue lights

it's the blue light,

glowing, haunting, 

undershadow of existence. 

the mind-numbing reality 

becoming, 

becoming, 

becoming,

until you grow into a pot of grey jelly

jiggling about with every move and 

every tremble in the floor

She holds it up and 

I'm emotionally blinded,

only for a moment,

and the sun-spot stays in my periphery 

until I can sleep on it, 

and sometimes it's still there when I wake up.

oh, to control,

to hold, to direct,

weaving and blending them together 

until they become an unreasonable plaid

with no distinctive colors

an army of tartan.

who's behind it all?
is it her? is it the light?
who's at the helm of this massive magnet?

blinking at me, shining into my chemistry 

and burning a hole in my trust. 

my mind is playing tricks on me

my mind is playing tricks on me
I thought I was so alone,
but her tiny hand sat in mine the whole time.
I threw it down, and it hung limply at her side until I picked it back up again,
throwing it down again,
and again,
and again,
picking it back up
until now her arm is bruised, broken,
arm pulled out of her socket,
she looks up at me with tears in her eyes,
pleading for me to keep those tiny fingers in mine,
pleading for me stay,
but my mind is playing tricks on me,
and I can't feel her hand anymore.
I realize it only later,
and I pick her arm up and hold it in mine,
apologizing, promising to never do it again,
my heart as broken as it feels now, and she
trusts me, puts her little hand in mine,
waits for it to heal,
and I, the demon, the villain,
slam it on the table once again,
and yell that she doesn't understand.
my mind is playing tricks on me.
I never wanted to hurt those tiny fingers,
I never wanted to bruise her ivory skin,
I thought she couldn't feel it,
I thought she was immune,
I was wrong.
I was so wrong, and this time, I see it.
I can see her arm, hanging limply without a cast,
without a wrap,
and I'm crying because it was me who did it to her,
the one who just wants to hold her tiny fingers,
the one who is begging for support,
but I've broken my support now,
and she's dying,
and I can't save her.

discovery

strangling beauty, treading lightly
on top of my tendons
breathing down my neck,
I'm perceiving closeness when the breath
is predatory.

the pupils that once grew larger
to see me,
to know me,
to feel me,
grow larger only now with hate,
seething,
I feel their coldness,
but the coldness draws me away from the heat of my anger.

fingertips familiar,
ridged tightly with the lines but no callous,
what is pain?
what is hurt?
cringing, bleeding--it's not what you think
love, reliance, support--took my fingertips from me,
gave all my insides.

the mind chuckles at me.
snickering at its playful game,
tossing my organs up like a pigskin.
falling up and down, catching my heart,
convincing me it isn't there.

clutching, pressing, where is it?
I can't find it. I'm frantic.
scratching, cutting, tearing,
searching.
the pupils.
they've taken it.