verigent woman smiling


I wake up every morning…. drowning knee deep in my own sheep skin,

Eyes rolled over into the back of my head, from a sleepless night counting the sheep I’ve slaughtered again and again,

Bags under my eyes, guess I’ll claim them as carry on baggage for my flight to where…

I will shed skin and hope my dangling bones form jagged wings,

That stab the clouds until they bow to me, I’m living a dream, a damn deity,

But in reality I wake up in a house I didn’t even build and all I can do is stare at the skin of sheep,

I haven’t moved,

Yet I feel jet lagged,

I haven’t even open my eyes,

Yet I feel the need to sleep.


There’s so much water under the bridges of my eyes,

Moves like a train down my face and leaves my tongue hostage and tied,

My hands move down my desk where I called you for the first time,

My throat has been slit, I’m just a fossil sentenced to the purgatory of the cement,

Yet all they can possibly say to me……

We know you are dying,

But please don’t make a scene…..

We know you are dying,

But please some people are working.


My mind is closed; hasn’t been operational for weeks,

Like a small business that caught the eye of a big business and was bought for cheap,

There’s thoughts inside me, but they feel contrived and scripted by something I can’t see,

But I can’t kill what is invisible,

So I accept my perceived failures with glee,

Claim it all apart of some sort of normalcy.


My normal self… Comes back in waves and tries to drown the new me,

But I pollute those waters with bottles made of toxins so quickly,

And all my friends are caught in the wreckage, strangling in the reefs,

All I do is dream is of my eventual sleep.


What has become of me?

Why am I not running to the old me?

Am I just scared?

I’m always scared…

But I’m turning into a ghost,

And for some reason that does not frighten me,

But whenever I am an actual human being,

I run for cover underneath the bark of a cut-down tree.


So they all throw me to the side, find some four leaf clovers in the four tears under my blue eyes,

Put a needle to my skin and hope black oil comes out of me instead of red blood,

Hope that I don’t stare at the ground below me for clarity, but instead to the sky above,

The sky I used to aspire to be in,

Now I must live as a cut down tree,

Stuck in my mind,

A beautiful flower in disguise as a for profit prison.


As they slit my throat again and scalp my skin,

I realize I’ve become the sheep I slaughter at night,

Stuck in this luxurious prison,

Staring at my feet just to remind myself I have feet,

I stare at my shed skin,

I run after it like a war-torn refugee, to a new land I’m beckoned,

I can’t wait to find my skin and begin again.


And when I do…

I’ll dream once again of reality,

And we will share the longest kisses under the most stable of trees,

I guess right now it feels like I’m drowning….

In an ocean that is filled with absolutely nothing yet absolutely everything at the same time,

Maybe that is just a side effect of being a human being,

Maybe to not drown you got to fill that ocean with something,

The waters of your own genius and your own humanity,

Waters pure yet poison to those barricaded bars that exist inside your mind,

So when they try to chop you down like a tree… they won’t be able to,

Because they are already dead to you inside your head,

I know that’s the destination I’m headed to…. but it just hasn’t been a red-eye,

It’s taken a detour to this hell,

But I’m climbing up my tree to heaven,

And one day…

You and I,

We will own the sky.


We will own the sky.


Everything will be fine.





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