Boy of the white winter
Death about your shoulders
Draped like a fur coat
Dogging your every step like a wolf long starved
Will it leave you alive just long enough to watch?
Watch as everything you loved is burned in the flames?
Watch as everything you loved is swallowed by the white?
Narcissus
Beauty overlooking envy
“Look at me” he whispers, shouts, screams—
But all anyone ever sees is themselves, and are we so impressed?
What is a reflection? A gauge of outer beauty that only matters when one is looking.
What happens if I close my eyes?
What happens if I go blind?
Does your beauty stay?
Or does it fade like the sun below the horizon?
Does your beauty hold the same weight when everything looks the same?
Like black, like empty, like nothing.
Only brittle to the touch and sharp enough to cut—
Oh Narcissus, I could build a garden to your vanity
And still you would be unsatisfied.
“Look at me” you would still whisper, shout, scream—
Of all things of beauty upon which I could lay my gaze
I think I will choose these flowers over your garden any day.
Oppressed
Trapped in the cages you built around me
I am a strong woman but you seek to belittle me
And every word I speak is an attack on your character
Do you think me spiteful, hateful?
Or do you fear the truth you might find in my words?
I have tried to speak with a gentle voice—
And you did not hear me.
I have tried to shout with power—
And you shout louder to drown me out.
Now I roar with the breath of a dragon—
And suddenly I am dangerous indeed.
Chipping away at the chinks in your armor—
You are vulnerable now—
But your pride scrambles to shield the flesh exposed.
Witch, you call me.
Ungrateful, because you have given me everything.
I do not deny the things you have given—
Wonderful and bountiful indeed—
And for them, I am eternally grateful.
But respect cannot be bought
Nor can love or submission
Every day I grow stronger and I say:
I dare you to dismiss me again.
In This Land
In this land, of beggars and thieves
A soul is held, as a useless thing
When gold reigns, money of the land
Hold it close like a child, tightly by the hand
In this land, of barren queens
Every man met, is a devilish fiend
And the rivers flow, with tears long cried
Though fields be sown, the wells have long since dried
In this land, of the forever young
Songs of childhood, be repeatedly sung
And, like flowers, wilt away
Though they wish for the sun, the sun never stays
In this land, of angels and demons
Even the mighty fall, each with their reasons
And the heavens weep, but know not why
Winters come, and the living never lie
In this land, of broken kings
A man once held, a piece of a dream
And he wished and wished and wished it be
But in the end, it was as broken as he
And so in this land, of everlasting things
There is but one, truth that rings
Meaning turns to ash, and ash to dust
Even the most beautiful of things must rust
Name
Tell me your name
Shout it from skyscrapers
Whisper it against the curve of my ear in the dark
I want to hold it close to me and press it tight against my chest
Pushing and pushing until it breeches the cage of my ribs
Making a home there alongside my beating heart
Where it will forever remain
—Etched into blood and bone—
So that you will never be forgotten