She Should Have Been A Boy

Sometimes when I look into her eyes,
I see someone I hate.
I see me.

-Christine

i was vile

she kissed my lips
shyly meekly at first

not knowing what to feel
not knowing what it meant

hesitant
slowly

succumbing to my touch
my lips

her body found
a temporary home next to mine

she was quiet
she was beautiful

she didn’t mean a thing
to me

-Christine

T-Rex and Toilets

Elaborate Jurassic Park chase scene.
Where to I go from here?
These aren’t my words.
These aren’t my dreams.
I know no dinosaurs.
I know no chase.
I know no elaboration.
Other than that which was
My life.

-Christine

Thumb Pointed Skyward

Alone.
Tired.
This pack on top of my back,
It weighs me down.

Feet sore.
Mouth dry.
I watch the sunset over the horizon.
The mountains vast and bright.

Hungry.
Walking
Down the side of a street.
Freedom I’ve never known.

Found me,
Roaming wild,
When I looked to the world
For the knowledge unknown.

Poor.
Adventure.
Wanting to get to where I’m going,
But enjoying every step of the way.

Thumbs up.
Headed North.
Cars pass me by.
Whatever happened to trust?

Insane?
Thrill seeker?
Axe Murderer?
Rapist?

No.
Hitchhiker.

-Christine

Thoughts On How To Run A Country, By Mr. President

all these thoughts inside my head
which one’s right
which one’s wrong
what to do
what is next
the weight of this country
on my shoulders
the murder of hundreds
on my hand
do we leave
do we stay
what to do
what happens next

-Christine

Little Brass Bed, Your Time Will Come

Little brass bed
Sits in a box, all broken down.
Waiting for time to pass.

It still holds up.
It still has use.
But not for the one who put it in a box.

To her,
It only lives among the dead.
Her oma.

It has become part of her past.
Away in a box.
Stacked in a closet.

It is kept company
With everything that once was,
Everything that has been replaced.

The handmade blanket still warms.
The small mattress still forms,
To the tiny lifeless bodies.

Little brass bed,
A doll bed,
An heirloom.

-Christine

the ugly

the ugly

words fall through me
always wound me
i can’t react
i’m picking up pieces
trying to work it out
i don’t understand
standing here in uncertainty
i’m closer
than i’ve ever been before
yet so far away
if I have something to say
i better say it now!
cause it’s my chance
to even up the score
my chance to say
what should have been said before
and as these ghosts begin to fall
their blind ears will hear
their hollow eyes will see
the pain
of the unwanted
the ugly
the undesirable
why did you reached out
to take my hand
but let it go
my silent song sings along
to words
that plague my head
words, lies
lies, my shadows have consumed
if i have something to say
i better say it now!
say it now!
say it to you now…

-Christine

A Pair of Death

Worn out all over.
It bleeds the memories
Of many footprints,
Many adventures,
Many places went.
The tred of its sole
Vanished with time.
The color that was once there
Has thinned out with its sole.
Leaving but a glimpse
Of what it once was.
The laces are still tied together.
Two bunny ears
And a knot.
But its lifeless form
Will no longer be graced
With what belongs inside.
Two feet.
Ten toes.

-Christine

They Can Not Stay Captive Within Her Head

Words hit the page
Slowly, cautiously, at first.

They take form.
Representing.

Something
In the form of a paragraph.

The writer never really knows
What to say.

Or why.
Some how it makes sense.

All she knows is that
These words must get out.

White meets black.
Black meets white.

-Christine