New Velvet Hands

Your caring
Deep tissue touch
Covers me
In healing warmth
Like a gentle
Velvet blanket

Your energy
Pure liquid crystal,
Your conscious fingers,
Skin, hair are
Beauty, and yet
I fear you

My body and being
Are not familiar
With such respect
You massage my
Frayed nerve endings
Releasing peace

Tracing shadows of hate
And violence. It is
Unjust: you, kind
Kindred spirit
Become a monster
In an instant

Rendered guilty
By an invisible jury
Of one hundred ghosts--
Perpetrator
Falsely accused.

(4Ac)

Changes

There is a period of alone-ness
In between the decision
To break free from old patterns
And move on to better choices

Wherein the person is like a ghost
Passing through people and places
Disconnected and unnoticed
Isolated, lonely, afraid

Yesterday, I put on a dress
And went out in search of a few smiles
Just to be sure I was still there

Then I went home, to wait in silence
For this lonliness to pass

Boredom

Boredom is the space in which my mind flails about
In activity that lacks grace enough
To call it dance.

It's the space in which
My thoughts cave in
To dark crevices and convoluted
Corridors,
Searching earnestly,
If not constructively,
For insanity.

Boredom is saturated in loneliness.
As am I.

I ache today. It is not fun.