my flavor is red.

sea salt
came across 


my skin 


leaving a 


burning sensation 


that i felt 


seemed fit. 


 


you see,


i'm full


of rage 


and not enough 


words to explain 


it. 


 


i have come to 


the point 


where


i, too,


say that i'm 


not a poet 


just a writer 


with a dream. 


 


that dream 


turns to nightmares


sometimes. 


 


and i welcome 


them in my 


deepest of sleep. 


 


dancing with my demons


as i laugh 


and grin. 


 


i even fell


in love with one. 


and we made 


love under the clouds. 


 


as the thunder rolled on. 


 


 


he said that he loved me too. 


 


i belong 


in the shadows because he 


told me to be. 


and i found it beautiful 


looking out on the outside. 


 


 


 


a lashing here and there


with my inner self 


and i keep beating myself 


down. i'm almost 


six feet under. 


 


i look to the sky 


in need of finding an 


Angel to sweep me off my feet. 


 


i pray. 


 


 


"can you take mercy on me?"