Maybe Death will stop for me

Maybe Death will stop for me and the two of us will marry.
I'm sure he has a poet's soul from all the grief he carries.
With the wisdom from his age, he must be fair at math.
Together, we could spend our days with Neruda and calculus.
Death will chase me, court me, follow where I roam,
until I concede at last and follow Death home.
With razor blades and sleeping pills will he kiss me goodnight
and so shall we fall asleep and never again see light.

The Pencil and the Eraser - 12/09/11

The eraser had a lovely day,
Providing a clean slat.
He wiped mistakes away.
He unraveled fate.

The pencil, on the other hand,
Has had a tiring week.
She tried to fill too many demands
And ended up growing weak.

For every time she was wrong,
For every time she failed,
The eraser came along
And cleaned her tragic trail.

That history made her,
Those lessons made her tough.
The eraser thought he’d saver her
But only made the day rough.

Why Did You Do It? - 04/04/11

Although I’ve been told that
just because you can
doesn’t mean you should,
I did it because I could.
From choking and rough,
ripping my throat like sandpaper
to a vacuum of openness,
space stretching out
beyond my lungs’ reach.
Cloudless denim skin
sprinkled with lemon cream,
little star shaped sour dollops.
Reflected in that shimmering sky
beautiful, benevolent, brave, bold,
stood on tall legs,
with a head held up.
I did it to meet her.
She promised with glitter dipped words
that there was freedom,
that the world was open,
that there was air.
I would sneak out again
to find her perfect reflection,
if only I could.
I did it because I knew
I could never again.
I did it to breathe.