Abused child

do not presume to know memy face a frowning mooncrevices of sadness besmeara hoary soul who wonders here wounds scab, heal and gazeas an eyeless void, she paintsno peak can lug the weightof a child begotten such a fate

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compulsive

counting, countingdoing daily safety checksexhaustion visiting eyes of seven God ignoring pleas to go to heaven tiptoeing, tiptoeingever aware of sleeping beastglass floors cracking under toeswhile nervous fingers are picking nose

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My New Poem, “Leaving Blue Doors,” Now Live at Spillwords Press NYC

voiceless rhythms hide conflict behind earless wallscobblestones assembled centuries ago, bask in white lightforgotten names of flowers already seared into my raw fleshpink and crimson colors hovering with their scentexploding like a trap door in the tiny hairs of my nostrilsbarren is his constant silence, which feels like screaminganxiously red eyes stare, as your tall […]

Read More My New Poem, “Leaving Blue Doors,” Now Live at Spillwords Press NYC