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from upcoming book

The Prologue

I’m just a silhouette situated on a cracked street corner gazing into the crevices of the cement. I’m a wanderer seeking warmth from a gentle hand. I spend too much time looking inward and only see engraved scars. I’m just a singed shadow that leaves whispers and tears for an empty sky. I find myself buried in my beloved diary. I cling to it as I cry myself to sleep as I pray to a God that is made up of sandpaper beliefs and songlike scripture.

I tend to sleep with trauma with invisible gauze and bloodshot dreams. I rationalize the hallucinations due to the measurable weight on my shoulders. I live in a household filled with indifference, butterflies circling fears, and ghosts having sarcastic conversations with each other. I carry a laugh from an ancient carnival. My mother named me after two distinguished poets. The name Sylvia Poe Chandler feels supernatural on the birth certificate. My personality is upside down and is unseeable. I scoff at normalities and jokes about what can not be changed. I loathe logic defended by agendas that are written by parasites. I am drawn to the stars have a tint of green because the moon is jealous. I am fond of the night because I can see my skeletons sipping on ignorance in the closet.

I never once believed in the elegance and fragility of love. I believe in monsters, dark side of humanity, warlords, and anguish that swallows you whole. I don’t believe in the hands of compassion nor forgiveness. I can’t believe in concepts I’ve never felt. I never once believed in angels, optimism with a silver lining, and words spoken by the rich. I believe in individuality not the mummy walking mass. I never believed in rhetoric from men wearing blue suits. I do believe someone below is smirking at my trials and tribulations. I can’t believe in fairy tales but I believe in an epilogue with a waterfall.

She calls me an infant and he calls me ungraspable. I’m a mute but the list of endless adjectives are added to the scroll. I am seeking love and affection from heathens wearing sin like a trench coat. I’m full of spite but spit out caffeinated speeches. I walk with a phantom knowing I’m contaminated. Self worth is buried in the forest of my backyard. As I walk through the woodlands I can feel the mosquitoes surrounding my significance. The closer I become my eyes swell with grief.

I am a cloud hiding behind the sun seeking a ray of hope. I have a backbone that you can’t see. I am a star gazer with drops of melancholy in my hands. I have been destroyed by my foul mouthed pro creators and poisonous ex lovers. My fate is torn but my destiny sees a rainbow from a distance.

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I’m jittery but calm in my logic. I parade these streets with echoes and slippery sentiments. I feel misplaced, misguided, and my feet continue to fumble. I struggle with intimacy and the white lies I swallow. I walk with expectations that I can’t see and standards that I can’t comprehend. I ignore my swirling instincts and lackadaisical intuition. I camouflage my fears with sophomoric humor and childish innuendos. I cough up resentment on a daily basis.

I wear my pride like a tattoo with animosity sewn to my arms. I am slightly dysfunctional and walk with a scorched tongue. I have an appetite to be understood than loved. Love is just a mirror that shatters over and over. Affection is just an object that we all hunger.
I wiped away the frustration from my eyes and see myself residing in the winter’s scream. Please don’t hold me, just reach in to breathe in my cold air.

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Bitter Honey

Bitter honey, the aftertaste is drowning
the affection once pure turns into ink
Disjointed and spots of spite stick to
my worn-down tongue, I dwell inside

I lost my existence but found my shadow
I lost my fears but found my perspective
I lost my pride but found my character

Even in the despair, the calm was burning

Bitter honey, the aftermath is devastating
the devotion once concrete crumbles
Frail and specks of turmoil rushes down
my frightened throat, I wallow inside

I lost my independence but found my direction
I lost my truth but discovered the lies
I lost my innocence but gained my wisdom

Even in the melancholy, the silence was light

Bitter honey, the afterthoughts are distant
the tenderness once snug is crippled
Cracked and traces of sorrow drip from my
serenading eyelashes, I cringe inside

I lost my thirst but found my hunger
I lost my laughter but found the jester within
I lost my ghosts but found my guardian

Even in the dashed hope, the fall was awakening

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Television is a disturbance of luster and plentiful
Television is a scandalous invention
Television is a disruptive mechanism clogging
your arteries
Television is a vacuum sucking the cells from your cerebellum

And the imagination crumbled
And the ingenuity succumbs
And she seduces hour by hour

Television is nerve gas crippling your legs and motivation
Television is a apparatus blended with hype and inferior hogwash
Television is a machine gun of information with a steering wheel
Television is a junkyard of contraband with sounds of justification

And the mind evaporates
And the muscles sit
And she seduces hour by hour

Television is a volatile substance with a grin
Television is a crutch with a bomb chained to your feet
Television is a fifty two inch rectangle civilians idolize
Television is a glass religion with no faith

And she seduces hour by hour

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Ceramic Villains

stomach acid
gorges the frame of the picture
ceramic villains
stand in the center of the image
credit card smiles
seek the light of the troubled road
wallets become empty
as they cling to the objects of the room

Love was just a word to deceive

camouflaged tears
reckon within the twitching of souls
charades is not
just a game
but the poison
they drank daily
They laid drunk
in the center of the bed
photographing plastic memories

Love was just a word that they wanted to believe

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She bleeds heartbreak like tortured waves
She bleeds drops of hopelessness on her vacant canvas
She bleeds translucent sins and whiplash
She bleeds numbness and savage cuts

Tormented sea, please don’t let me drown
I have a will with armor and a fortress

She bleeds silent lightning and hollow caverns
She bleeds lost yearnings and tainted echoes
She bleeds obscurity with traces of animosity
She bleeds contorted anxiety with frustration stuck in her throat

Tormented sea, please don’t let me drown
I have a fire that won’t be extinguished

She bleeds nightmares with a voice of gnarled wars
She bleeds a cry with torn rainbows and blazing reverberations
She bleeds goodbye with a wailing fizzle
She bleeds into yesterdays with tomorrows screeching

Tormented sea, please don’t let me drown
I have something that you can’t see

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The dark side is gravitating
Scrambled thoughts of my reality
Playing with the toys in my closet
A world you could care less
Claiming to know me completely
You know what you want to know
My efforts to shed dead skin get unnoticed
I grin on the inside of these vandalized walls
We share a love that wears many disguises
that you refuse to see
You chose to see only a few layers of me
We display a miserable performance
Consistently staring into my silence
I can’t make you use your tongue
I will never be enough or give enough
You are as broken in pieces as me
You don’t know how to walk away
I dare you to walk away like the rest
The grin expects the unexpected
Can you spell the word depression
Waiting for God to take me away
You will understand me when I’m dead and gone
And give more of yourself to another man
The dark side is gravitating

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I’m not worth a penny
You won’t see any shine on me
I’m only a dot on this earth
You won’t even notice I’m here
I’m not a decoration
You won’t see that I exist
I’m only made up of coal
You won’t even notice that I’m gone
I’m just a tragedy waiting to happen
You won’t even care that I spoke
I scream in silence
To recognize that I’m alone

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Walking Paradox

She will care for thirty seconds
and write a novella of accusations
She will pine for your sensitive hands
and cry a stream of tears from a distance
She will crave hours of chit chat
and stare at grim skeletons in silence
She will dance and twirl in the garden
and be embarrassed of her defects in loneliness

“In my view, I was raped by his alluring
vocabulary, molested by his wit and probed
by his twinkling generosity. He turned me into a walking paradox.”

And the mystery within her dwells
And the inconsistency smears her delusions
And the absurdity fills her weary lungs
And the enigma is like condensation
And the anomaly marches within her mind

She will walk with poise and diligence
and shout with obscenities doused in wildfire
She will cherish the remains and residue
and toss her pieces she loathes in the garbage
She will wrap herself up in sanitized anxiety
and chuck courage up against the wall
She will run with convictions in her fist
and ignore the principles that define her

And the secrecy within her is desolate
And the conundrum drips frustration
And the perplexity drains her focus
And the complications steer her vision
And the rattle stumbles within her mind

“In my perspective, I was poisoned by his compliments, fondled by his intellect and abused by his sincere confidence. He turned me into a walking paradox.”

My books are available here.

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She’s exhausted from spilling ink
She’s uncertain with her fingertips
She’s wobbly and shaking on the inside
She’s powerless from the past
She’s flimsy as a thin piece of paper
Sing me a song for wide hope
Sing me a song for stretched out faith

She’s frail within her bones
She’s isolated from the rattle
She’s licking her wounds quietly
She’s aching for companionship
She’s comfortless and abandoned
Sing me a song for freedom
Sing me a song without chains

She’s tangled up in desolation
She’s withdrawn and torn down
She’s a tragedy without a witness
She’s reclusive and friendless
She’s a sky without any clouds
Sing me a song for change
Sing me a song for healing

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Antidotes tasting like black coffee
A chalk outline of Patterson’s grumbles
China dolls parade 13th street with
residue on the corners of their mouths
Adversaries hack up off colored jokes
under a jagged and teary eyed sun
whispering forgotten fairy tales
“I can’t shine, I don’t have time,
I’m lost and forgotten in these rhymes”

And the ghost of Patterson counts his secrets
Smears his name at the gates for attention
Picking the lock, shouting at the kingdom

Romantics playing hopscotch on
cracked and overused sidewalks
Protagonists and thieves banter
in the smog at Jameson’s bar on Kingsman
Cynics and skeptics erasing evidence
of hope on belligerent walls
Butterflies flying over restless Samaritan’s
chained to oxidized dumpsters
Walker struts with a nervous alibi

And the ghost of Patterson counts the bullets
painting his name on the golden walls
Crouched down, yelling at the kingdom

Walker stalks the neighbors, wrestles with friction, and turns into a killjoy
Leaking out minor details and spilling of a lethal homicide filled with inquiries
Butterflies swarm the garden, surrounding a sealed box
Sounds of an ax break the venerable crate
Intriguing signatures, bag of money, and a letter from Patterson to a world class criminal
Conviction and Walker go hand in hand

And the ghost of Patterson sheds its feathers
Staring up at a dot of light,
Staring down at a dot of black,
Cemented in a glass underworld

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I use to wear a serenading taxi cab colored sweatshirt with a patch of of birds heading south for the winter to Morgan’s house
She’d always laugh at the caption below
“Are we there yet?” and pour me a drink
She paraded her fathers den that reeked of nicotine and late night affairs
Flipping through the eclectic taste of albums
Spinning the quarter in the afternoon air
Indecisiveness roaming like a soldier
Morgan was the advocate of passive aggressiveness
Mumbling curse words and playing with a rubber band in tangled dialogues
Morgan would often lean in and tap her fingers on my thigh as if she was playing the piano
Slightly obtrusive and deliberately coy
Consistently playing word games with my emotions
Shouting “Love is fickle, but you could dance with me for a nickel”
Often devilish wearing a copper halo
Tossing idioms between stirred pauses
Blatantly ignoring the officer in the pictures on the olive walls
She referred to him as the man that dragged her from state to state
Leaving her in decorated homes with meaningless jewelry
Constantly toying with closeness and distance with my lips in the sanctuary
Shaking my head from the autumn perfume
From month to month my title changed from tool box to aberration
On that fateful hour I made the doorbell sing and no one replied
Glancing down at the welcome mat I picked up the ivory envelope
Ramblings were engraved and cemented
Paragraphs leaving a starry eyed melody
Entranced by the last line that catapulted reality
“The officer who claims to be my father hasn’t taught me how to say goodbye”

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Loveless Eyes

She rambles within her scattered and spinning monologue, a speech incomprehensible

She scrambles the phrases unapologetically and unleashes long winded statements

Continues to prance inside her lies, behind those loveless eyes

“I spend my life to prove others wrong, those are the lyrics to my tragic song”

She clarifies the subject matter in a bow to one gender

She defines the topic with tantalizing innuendos to the other gender

Continues to wear that disguise, to hide
those loveless eyes

“I spend my life to prove to others that I’m right, those are my words in this never ending fight”

She’s threatened by others intellect as her insecurities bite

She clings to the accusations and defends her spotted purity

Continues to prance inside her lies, behind those loveless eyes

“I spend my life to prove to others that I’m on the right direction, claiming that I don’t need anyone’s affection”

Forgetting in the end to love herself

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For you and the truth,
I lay awake circling my vulnerability
I can taste the poison on my tongue
I dwell in my pond of insecurities
I gnaw at my unspoken and sedated soul
I claw at my resilience with my tired fingers
I pick at my invisible wounds with an axe
I watch the apprehension hang over my head
I whisper to my demons “listen to the crack”

I am holding your hand with one eye open
a gust of change feels like a storm
I’m terrified to open up both eyes
to see I don’t deserve you

For you and the truth,
I find myself misplaced and disoriented
I spot the conditions and uncontrollable urges
I removed the hindering spotlight
I am haunted by my effervescent carnival
I have waved goodbye to the magnetic carousel
I steer toward the corridor of isolation
I clutch on to the paradise dancing in your eyes
I am sinking in the malevolent circus

I am holding your hand with one eye open
a gust of change feels like a storm
I’m terrified to open up both eyes
to see I don’t deserve you

For you and the truth,
I am weeping on the inside in this masquerade
I am praying I will find edges of my identity
I leave my pieces behind reaching for you
I grip on to tomorrow and replay yesterdays
I cough up the suffocating air and sorrow
I choke on my frustrations and crooked thunder
I see the lightning in my affliction
I recognize the heartache that flickers within

I am holding your hand with one eye open
a gust of change feels like a storm
I’m terrified to open up both eyes
to see I don’t deserve you

My books are available here.

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Between the ivory blank page
and the tangle among the frozen words
I grunted frustrations and dabbed
my fingers in the reverberating clouds
Love was written for daydreamers
I vigorously plucked the petals from
the fortune teller’s teary eyed rose
Agony and torment stretched out
along my hypersensitive spine
Tenderness was shattered into fragments
glaring at the distinguished pieces
Astonished from the inward discovery
never seeking the grace within
Clarity crept in under a cherry tree

My books are available here.

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She murmured sardonic puns, three line riddles and a secret written by her morning phantom
She was sipping on Coca Cola with percolating eyelashes carrying a catatonic grin
I sighed “your diabolical scent is quite ravishing and eloquent”

I didn’t mean to ignite the past
I didn’t mean to love you with the left eye
I didn’t mean to fall so hard with a faithless romantic

She gargled bits of authenticity, lucid theories, and swallowed a vitamin of intensity
She often spills her aggression, animosity, and uneven morals in her bloodhound diary
I cringed “your radiant light is piercing through the thick of the night”

I didn’t mean to surrender to your heart of stone
I didn’t mean to adore your nightmares
I didn’t mean to wipe away the rain in the storms

She has a mystifying language drenched in symbolism and an accent with a pinch of kindness
She miscalculated and misplaced the affection
I gasped “your insidious magic feels like gold, makes me wonder why your story hasn’t been told”

I didn’t mean to say those words
I didn’t mean to remove your veil
I didn’t mean to make you so afraid

My books are available here.