Out Of Me

out of me
comes everything
that's filled my blood
with poison,
with toxins,
and now
with contrition
I speak as though
I've never wanted to sin,
and with fullness
I breathe a breath
that purifies my lungs,
flushes out my veins,
brings water to my eyes,
and buckles my knees.
out of me
comes everything
that I ever set out to be,
and now let it be
nothing.

Embers

You are the whispers
of inadequacy and doubt
that seep into my cerebrum
and rearrange every ordered emotion.
It's like stepping into a library
and ripping all the books from the shelves
and leaving me there
to clean up your mess.
I have a million and one ways
to put you in your place,
to shut up that gaping mouth
and silence you forever,
but the havoc your secrets bring
is too high a cost for your speechlessness.
I repeat
"you're not worth it, you're not worth it"
and pray that my civility
will evolve into scorching embers
that sit on your head.

Arteries

If I could fold you up
like a square piece of paper
and put you in my pocket,
and keep you there forever,
I would never miss you
never struggle against you
or lose you.
I could bend you
to my less-than-divine will
and tear you up
whenever I was unhappy
and I could have complete--
complete control.
I would possess the power
to drop you in the trash,
tear you to pieces,
or fold you up into an airplane
and send you on your way.
But no,
you could never be that bendable,
never be that dispensable,
never be that two-dimensional.
You must be essential
inhabiting my soul
in ways I can't predict or manipulate
rising up like my breath,
keeping time like my heart,
arteries filled with you,
unseen through my skin,
but necessary for my survival.

You're essential.