Happy (fucking) mother's day...

There is no name
For a childless mother
A woman whose
Child never was
What do we call her?
The open arms
The empty arms
The open heart
The bleeding heart
Hemorrhaged brain
The wound
That never will heal
The childless mother
One who loves
Ripped from her body
Without control
The one whose
Body healed
But will never be
And the soul that bleeds
continuously for
The loss of child
The child that never was
The childless mother
Whose dreams never
come to bear
Whose body revolts
The revolutionary evolution
Of the beauty and of death
But never life
What do we call
The childless mother
The womb widow
The loss too lost
The empty emptiness
Of the deepest deep

Dreams....

I spent my childhood
Escaping from the bullying
In books and​ thoughts
And woods and bound in caves
And up trees
And dreaming of these days
I'd one day spend my time...
Friendless and lost
And nothing ever lasting
But making lists
Of everything that seemed
To give me peace and
Took me places
Where only joy and
Adventure could be
Through University
I spent every moment
Of disdain on the sixth floor
Of the library
Listing out the places
The things
Accomplishments
Places I'd be one day
With every call number read,
I'd count down...
To a place where freedom
From the blinds and binds
Would ever be me
...
...
...
But one day
I grew up
And realize the life I have
It's the life I have
And dreaming
While the death
And the pain
Underground
Nothing ever changes from
And in the cages
And the caverns
On the verge of deepness
I realize my own dreaming
Has lead me here
But now I must live
The choices that
I've made and dream
The dreams already dreamed.

Ceiling Fan

Sometimes
I stare at the ceiling
And the ceiling fan
goes round
And around
Thoughts about
My life
The way life is
Temporary
Every single thing is
temporary.
Around the end of spring
Comes​ summer
And the ceiling fan
Goes around again
Forever is something
For the gods
Nothing
maintained
Just elongating
The cycle
And tears run hot and
down into my ears
Muting the world's temporary curse
Slow it down
Sometimes I stare
At the damn ceiling fan
Like
After I lost my child
When I can't sleep
At night
While I slowly lose my dad
Completely helpless
Or when you are in my arms
And I don't want to wake you
While I contemplate
My life in lines of poetry
And the things
I love
And want to keep