Thoughts from the edge

I want to cloak myself in silence.

I want to be alone in a universe of my own,

To exist with no one –

The first being

Or the last.


I think:

Maybe if I tilt my soul so some of the madness leaks into their own atmospheres they will begin to understand,

when their undisturbed galaxies have a few

of my burning planets.

But I attempt to speak and

A tangled mess falls from my lips and we all stare as it hangs there in the air…

What choice exists but to shove it away while I have some dignity left?


I beg again and again for silence,

for peace,

for escape,

for time that should be mine yet


In the same breath that I wish I no longer had to exist

I must remind myself I don’t have that option.

In the same breath that I wish they could understand

I must understand why they cannot.


I sit with my feet stretched over the edge

Further over it than anyone seems to realize,

More in need to control how quickly I will fall than I have ever been.




Every day a little closer to the truth.
Every day a little further away.
Always such a fine line that divides the two.
With the hostile tug-of-war between fire and ice –
little Mary’s become a little sinful:
spilling blood in the pews,
dragging her fingers through the ashes,
and drinking the holy water while she dances
and Father disapproves…

I found ways to build walls
protecting myself, protecting you.
You found ways to twist the truth,
justifying your self-inflicted wounds.
In the end we stand with our backs pressed
against each other
breath fogging both sides of the mirror
and our hearts held in the grasps of the
people we thought we knew.