I’ve been trying to grow things in this world pothos and jade plant aloe and fern and fiddle leaf Chinese Ginger maidenhair, staghorn and crispy fern and they’ve survived with me but mostly my childhood berated me for not having the house I wanted full of plants and animals and museums and blue rooms with statues and now that I’m crazier I’m aligning more with myself and my house is gaining an identity super organized mess creative stations everywhere and love love love love love need more room for books
Author: abykittiwakewrites
Diary
I’ve been having nightmares multi-ended cinema features and waking menaces of giant men calling my name and pulling me from a globe of shield bringing me to their teeth I’ve been have waking fears hearing my name when no one is home a simple call or question left hanging I’ve been walking half distracted by my children the weight which keeps me grounded their laughter and bickering and half basted in surreal fantasies aural displays of temper and direction an anxiety gone rogue and pulling me whole hog I used to fight with these voices from a very young age inner demons and angels screaming at me to do so do til I screamed back no no no so now they laugh at my decisions and mock my direction malevolent laughter and I ignore then for the most part they’re so loud lately walking waking nightmare I don’t know if the dream is real for several minutes I lean and reel unsettled doing everything I can to keep the chair sitting there losing bits of time I’d rather sleep where I know the dream is a dream until I wake and must decide if it separate or a proverb if I was eaten out will be eaten by who does it matter my thoughts sweetie to show me the way and I listen to the pictures displayed
Home
The tinnitus of an empty house
once buzzing with family
the quiet wings of sleep shed
Cicadas hidden in the photographs
Rainsticks turning in the walls
The very pipes groan in ticks and longing
Stairs lay silent
fans continue their watch
a lone figure listens to the clock
The Great Thaw
I’m melting
Who cares if the cards are drawn
I never play my hand
I just talk honest to a few who care
Just break off the worst parts of me at the worst time
Then get back up still singing
I’m melting
I just want to understand
What is your master plan
How do I
How do I fit in if at all
Never been a puzzle piece
Just want to build you up
Just want to build us high
I’m melting
Oh, I’ve been ice cold my whole life
Here’s my smile, my sleeve, my heart
But no one gets on the inside til tonight
I’m melting
Hear the fluttering bird
One wing never healed
One winged bird rustling
Never healed right
One winged bird claws ready for a fight
Can you get past my shield?
Not a threat but a hope
It’s real
Who cares if the cards drawn
I never play my hand
Just want to speak the truth
I’m melting
Can you get past my
Can you get past my shield
A Half-Poem
Moon of birds and bees
Sharing moon
Alit in dew
Daylight moon
Subtracting me from you
Belari
Forged force of forgetting trickled down atmosphere down into Belari the swordsmith of Dale- he managed the weapons of kingdoms yet longed for parchment and quill.
Grit and Grace
O tender man whose life was spent in summer
When winter blows, I pray your shoulder holds
Against the wearying weight of living
May grit and grace always heed your call
Lament
Tender eyes and tender knees
Brighter than a sting
Sighs in the northern wind
Sighs in the spruce and willow
Calls to the setting sun
Twixt tailored swallow and shining minnow,
“My love, my love, my love!”
I walk the beach
Hurricane upon hurricane
Have freed it of your scent
Spray and mussel bound rocks
Give way to mountains and…
Home, I’m coming home
Just trying something
I don’t mind walking the quieter path
Where heads don’t bob up to see you pass
It’s a place I’ve kicked and fought for
And finally was gifted by cruelty
But the simple air, walking as the crowd dismissed
I thrive here
With the gum wrappers and ticker tape
Long after the parade
I walk
Remembering what looks got
Got me
What attention wrought
Now I’m nobody’s type
Just an afterthought
And I can feel the energy coming
Better than I could smiling and thinking I was cute or smart
No it’s easier along the quiet path
Where men don’t give second glances
And people snicker when you’re dancing
Because the alternative being seen as an object to touch and bump was hell
AbyKittiwake 