She carries a letter from her mother
in her left breast pocket,
written in faded ink
it stains her clothes and sinks beneath her skin
to swim in clotted bloodstreams.
The words are faded now, she cannot read
anything past the first sentence.
‘I am scared you are a figment
of something lost long ago.’
And every day she reads those words
and carries them in her soul.

With each step she wears a crown
made of thrones
melted down and built back up
with countless broken bones.
She swears her tears were made to stain
the pages of books ,
and her heart was made to break
and burn. Still she carries a letter
from her mothers daughter
in a pocket she built beneath her skin.
And every day she breaks it open,
and hopes her smile does not show
the weaknesses within.

Even now, as she lets the paper fly,
she isn’t sure who wrote the words
on that piece of broken sky.
So she sings a note to the night
and waits for another moment
to ease the strain of people lost
in the passage our time.

Michel LazzaroDon’t Leave Me Alone with Myself (via elzaro)


"THE THROWAWAYS courageously explores the most pressing racial justice issue of our time: the mass incarceration and profiling of poor people of color. "
                         - Michelle Alexander
                            author, The New Jim Crow


Look Away

One long fluid day
Flowing and leaking and seeping
Across my thoughts and through them
I have stared so far and long
Into books
Out windows
Into Mirrors
Out of things to stare at
And it blurs the
Obvious do what I may
Do what it takes
To stay
At least for today
If my mind could
jump into itself
so fast that I would
barely catch a piece
of me
there might be what is left
and it might be enough
To make it until the end
of the day
Sore eyes
From staring
Sore heart from looking away

Catherine MacAdam

I dwell in Possibility ~466 by Emily Dickinson

I Dwell in Possibility (466)

I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
More numerous of Windows –
Superior – for Doors –

Of Chambers as the Cedars –
Impregnable of eye –
And for an everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky –

Of Visitors – the fairest –
For Occupation – This –
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise –