Tag Archives: identity

Sick of sense (poem of mine)

I do not know my self
The one who salutes me
As a shadow
At the foot of my bed.

Dark, dark creature,
Who sucks the daylight from my pores
Who steals the moonshine
That coats my floors.

The moon,
The sick, sick, moon.
The marble, sugary,

I do not know my self
The one who stands
At the foot of the bed
Who breathes the sweet air?
Who sleeps with my dreams?


Jealousy of the oak (original poem of mine)


Inside me
Are many layers.
And you,
I’m sure your roots
Took hold,
Somewhere deeper,
And cooler.
The epidermis of your beauty
Does not fool me.

I see how it holds you,
Steadies you,
Unkempt with your own strength
Your own self assured virility.
The many rings
That have etched on your skin
The tiny twists of fate
And weathered storms
They all show.

I am shaded by this canopy,
That comforts me,
With the arms of it’s leafy trapeze,
Your solid ease,
And leanings,
In the wind.

The way my hand is guided,
Traverse the calloused structure,
And I hear your story through my fingertips.

My roots,
They never grew,
To the deepest depths
That yours are anchored at.
My envy grows green
And curls me.
I wish to lie down,
And take refuge in
Your imposing fortress.

Inside I hide no mighty roots,
No towering pillars of strength,
I lack,
The passages,
And webs,
My complexities stop dead
At the twisted branches,
And gnarled feet
That clutch the soil
When the wind again,
Snaps up its snares,
I hope not to be uprooted.