gulls, and the mosaics of dreams

i broke pencils with too hard a grip
as i tried to write my thoughts as if
i were chiseling them into my skull
it’s no wonder i often feel the pull
of a headache coming on, i slip
over the words, feeling a bit foolish
i imagine myself at times like a gull
making up for gloomy days
by stripping dull coastlines of
shiny litter – trying to make
the most of imperfections,
finding value in the gold
that doesn’t always glitter –
before it stashes itself away into
waves walking with the sun
before it sets and burns away
the things i forgot to write in my head
which will fade into a strange
mosaic dream, outlined
in ocean blue and sunset red
backdated Post a Day poem for April 6th, 2017


i sometimes admire
the ones who are wired
and programmed to
not seem to give a damn
and aren’t taken higher
into the whirlwind of a storm
of torn anger and resentful
scorn dressed in a forlorn,
long, exasperated glare
but then i remember
that they really do care
but just happen to be
much better at bottling
up their despair and it
comes out as monsters
when staring in the mirror
as they brush their teeth,
or when they struggle
to fall asleep and when
they are no longer awake,
those emotions then take
them by the throat
in their night terrors and

feather rafts

sleeping, my brain became
hungry and started gnawing at
the seams of my pillow, until
my mind sunk softly
into strange dreams –
i floated on a raft of feathers,
my quilt the sail – it began to tell
it’s odd little story – i crashed
into the stars, they were melting like
candle wax into stringy long-legged spiders
leaping across walls, startled –
i awaken, thinking i had heard my
own footsteps down the hall

backdated Post A Day Poem – for March 31st, 2017.

the fool

a person with poor
instincts will end up blaming
their intuition

yet when the two meet
intuition and instinct –
stars aligning, no longer crossed

of course the person will play
the fool, thinking their mind
has gambled their sanity
and they’ve lost it

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: intuition

hot shots

we have weapons floating in our skulls
some call them “brains”, and if we
take shots that miss the mark
people think we’ve gone “insane”
yet if we don’t even try at all –
to think for ourselves,
the pain we feel is all the same
as a knife impaled in the forehead
without gaining a thing –
simply hell for nothing –
trapped in an eggshell for a head
yet we all walk around life like
we’re “something”

unheard aching –

sometimes a headache
is caused not by the sharpened claws
of an overthinking mind,

but of emotions that a heart turned
to stone has left behind –

which is why in overwhelming,
lonely, and often depressing times,

we struggle to balance
the fine lines of our hearts and minds

tears sting, love burns,
shoulders grow cold –
all are symptoms of the fever
when both hearts and minds
are arguing for their voice to be heard,
yet they are boxed in together,
silent, lips unmoving, unheard,
remaining untold