Fuck everything…

I don’t feel anything at all anymore…just a warm blanket of numbness… I just want to lay down in the forest, mouth sealed shut after eating some fun fungi, and stare at the fucking trees while listening to the forest frogs and the crickets orchestra all day every day. I don’t even know what I fucking am anymore…Maybe people can only deal with a certain amount of emotional trauma, and then they are just done…they walk around with a huge fucking hole where there soul once was. I should have been done aeons ago. Maybe I’m actually brain damaged now… too many unresolved issues from forever ago ( blah blah blah), always pretending I was okay, but I was actually losing it all the time, but I could hide my arms really well under sleeves…blah blah blah…and then the other traumas, and the ptsd…my brain has probably short circuited, and I don’t even want to play with the other cyborgs anymore…I’m like the rusty tin man standing in a lost and forgotten forest frozen in a terrible time loop missing a heart while being choked out by poison ivy….


How I Became Water in the Forest One Night

The shadow people are taking away the stars
with nets in the sky,
wounding it with dark holes
and the scarred sky is crying.

These sky children trapped
in the cave they are dropped into,
broken and disillusioned,
forgetting their light.

They dwell there in the dark corners
and rocks, becoming. (becoming shadow people)
Forgetting their softness, becoming hard
and full of dark holes and cracks.

They also stole the moon and
placed her in that cave with
the lost children.
She found them and fed them dust and songs.

She reflected their missing light,
and showed them their strength.
They didn’t have to be shadows anymore.
If they didn’t want to be.

Become water to escape, the moon said.
Here on this earth as water
you can fill everything with love
and you cannot be caught with a net.


We were like a mirror within a mirror
reflecting infinity into each other’s souls.
You felt like a home to me built of oceans
of star weeds and moon dust and the debris
of thousands of years of longing and alienation
finally stranded on the shores together.

But now I’m stranded there alone like a siren
calling out silently because I don’t want
anyone else to hear my songs, and so I collect
the sea trash at night and check the moon
puddles for your face, and I wait for you
while I whittle my bones into a shape that can hold you.

Metamorphosis of a Wizard Alien

I am an alien in this time line
on this earth in this human skin.
What is a human anymore?
I don’t even have to put my phone on silent.
Nobody is calling.
But I’m not calling anyone anymore either.
Disconnected from this time, this space, and this people.
Nothing is sacred anymore, and everything is fodder
for a few moments of instant gratification.
I’m not touching anything that feels like
skin of a person again.
I am not wizard alien enough yet to just go through skin
after skin and feel like a whole person.
Who gave me this heart that I don’t fucking need anymore?
It is scar tissue now, and barely beating a normal human drum.
But I don’t care anymore.
So take my heart as a sacrifice (scarred ball of knots that it is)
since I’m a person born at the wrong time in the wrong place
loving the wrong people
let me become a wizard alien who has no fucking heart,
and then maybe I can pretend to drive this body shell
with some kind of happiness and mingle with the other
body shells
so that I can sleep at 3 am and not cry myself
awake every day having to drink vodka with the
ghosts who are getting drunk off my tears.