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					                                              The Hole Between
                                               Mine and Yours:
                                              Liquid Logic from
                                               a Dirty Tumbler


                                                 Christina M. Grey

                                               Smashwords Edition


                                        The Hole Between Mine and Yours:
                                         Liquid Logic from a Dirty Tumbler
                                        Copyright 2011 by Christina M. Grey

                                        Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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                  ode to no one
                    Melting >
          act of imperfect contrition
            New Age Busy Signal
        A Lover's Knot is Love or Not
         Sideways Signs of Balance
                  Nesting Doll
               feminine mistake
                 Fourth Degree
              Reverse Symbiosis
                the grave escape
shut up and do something you narcissistic unt
           Always Infinity Answers
              incomplete run-ons
               are we there yet?
                 Girls Are Mean
                     all fours
              Vacuum Aspiration
           Come Under Navel Trail
  hilarious. delirious? mysterious hysterias
     quiet conversations quickly escalate
                 The Only Way to Out is Through
                           Foreign Knight
                          one feat at a time
                             Slumber Fast
                           Lengthy Hollow
                            Plus and Minus
                            rough thoughts
                        empire waste of mind
               if you have to ask, you can't afford it
                       static mellow dramatic
                          dirty snow white
                        The Law of the Gods
                          Dearest Dorothy
     my mind sways, never stays, always strays from the start
                              Open Wide
the you in me, the us in them, and they're all i's and ears and limbs
                     Have Knots, Won't Work
                    the tyrants of self-discipline
                             Pipe Dreams
               Vanity is the Remedy for Loneliness
                              hail music
 Note to Selves
About the Author

Floyd and I flied
       I mean flew
But you seemed to knew
       I mean know

Through the sky that I ride
       I mean wrote
On the waves of the nights
       I mean notes

Surfing words as we float
       I mean flowed
While the sound filled the bored
       I mean boat

We were drifting up art
        I mean close
To the clues of the noose
        I mean knows

As we melted blue moons
       I mean moans
Into wise from the wounds
       I mean woes

We renewed with the tune
      I mean truth
Ruined times of the new
      I mean youth

But he left me alone
with no line
how to reach him or send
him a sign
when I need him but can’t
seem to find
where he hides out of sight
and my mind

Now I dream of the lane
       I mean loon
And the day he will soon
       I mean save

From the guillotine scene
       I mean sane
And the life of the plight
       I mean plain

Please return to me, Floyd
        what has fled
Turn my spaces from white
        into wet

and remind me of who
        I mean how
I can swim even when
        I’m without
ode to no one


as i escape, they're gaining speed
i feel like prey as they stampede
they're drooling, hungry for a feed
they're on my tail and wanting meat
a bunny running, chaste, around
surrounded by and scared of clowns

this circus city tourist hoax
a park without the rides, a joke
(the punch line is we're all alone)
this carnival, this homesick home
these sideshow freaks and average joes
or savage beasts and boring foes
i've yet to meet a worthy beau
or if i have, he had to go


so listen, mister, i confide
my secret: i'm unsatisfied
i long for something deep inside
come fill me up with what's implied

i've fled away from free to find
a beeline toward the wrong way sign
on subterranean famous train
i'm in the railroad's other lane
i want to be the bird you cage
just clip my wings and close my range
enslave and save me, pin me down
and lock me up. please keep me bound
and tied to where you hold the key
i promise i won't try to flee
if you will stay and be my safe
i'll have a ball wrapped up and chained
so find your fire, light my flame
come ring my bell and say my name

release me from this hell i'm in
without a cellmate, celibate
employ me as your nighttime toy
your lifetime servant, paid in joy

i want to be your biggest fan
your favorite thought, your genie lamp
your fantasies are my commands
your hopes and dreams: my maps and plans

imagine, wish, and then say when
you'll let me in and under skin
and i'll begin the endless grins
remove a trace of former cringe

just tell me how you like to feel
i'll make you love it, doubt it's real
when you say jump, i won't reply
i'll just surprise you with how high

i'll master all that you request
i'll learn it backwards, ace the test
right when you know that i'm the best
i'll blow your mind way past impressed

you'll think i must be heaven-sent
your blessed angel; i'm hell-bent
on never ceasing to amaze
i'll be the drug to keep you dazed

if you’ll let me, i'll convince
you’ll never know how good it gets
much better all the time that's spent
together more entwined than friends
not only minds, our souls will blend
so splendidly in blissful sin
and every inch of blood and flesh
will mix and match and all well-mesh

so beam me up above cloud nine
and meet me there, in deep space mine
let's start already, stop this pending
step into my happy ending
Melting >

elixir mix up
rubbing dearth
waxy facial

fixer downer
solvent self
poison pleasure
sucking wealth

whimper courage
liquid shrink
dumber up her
sloppy wink

deadly quiet
noisy norm
portly vessel
eye of storm
act of imperfect contrition


my mornings take the most to beat.
i struggle at my slowest speed.
a sloth or slug who's stuck in sheets,
a paralyzed, but conscious me
can't move my legs to find my feet.
my mind keeps heading back to sleep.
two heavy eyes are far too weak
to lift their lids enough to blink.


each sun that rises also brings
the broken heart of fallen dreams
and as it does i contemplate
the reasons i should start the day.
i almost always have to make
myself stand up for something fake,
and even that takes being brave;
i'm sometimes not enough to save.


forgive me if i seek escape
when i'm unable just to wake
or function as a living thing,
perform the basic act of being.
but how can i keep drying tears
when cries increase throughout the years
and reinforcement's disappeared,
replaced with disappointment, fear?
environmental stimuli
no longer give me any high.
there's no reward this life provides.
it's harshly punished all my tries.
so i admit, beyond wits’ end,
in desperation, i have sinned...


i've resurrected habits dead,
attempt again to straighten head.
the Ph.D., M.D. says “sane”
is balance, so he likes to blame
the chemicals inside my brain,
my neural make-up, not my pain,
for keeping me in bed all day,
prescribes me happiness his way:
electric signals' reuptake
inhibited will motivate,
igniting sparks and changing state
to circumvent genetic fate.

though i concede to doctor's fix,
i don't believe it's more than quick.
at most it helps (and does) distract
myself from focus on the fact
that i'm alone, and worse than sad,
without a home, a hanging chad
that doesn't matter, count, or fit,
a debbie downer out of skit,
a crazy, but not quite misfit
(now, too, a lazy hypocrite).
no man's an island; i'm a ship,
a wreck beneath an iceberg’s tip.

so i consent to medicines,
against my (better?) common sense.
norepinephrine’s self-defense,
my only form (and best) of friends,
the formula i lack within,
according to the D.S.M.
(apparently, the will to live
is in a pill and theirs to give)

i swallow it to cheat until
i find the strength to climb this hill.
it keeps me going through the moves
without attention to the truth.

when every effort’s just to be,
whatever method works for me.
New Age Busy Signal

Cell phone flashes
Call from Mom
Wait for voicemail
Listen later
Text her something
She was busy

Endless ringing
Must be working
Wait for message
Never comes
Drive by shoot out
He was busy

Crying lonely
Wish for someone
Always screening
Press ignore
Lie through buttons
I was busy

       Busy like the bee or beaver
       Busy with the kids and wife
       Busy mind or busy body
       Busy is a dizzy life

I watch the wishes fall and fly,
like snowflakes, flutter in the sky.
I wonder when and how and why
they came here--from another's cry?

Perhaps of stranger souls who blew
intent to turn their hoping true.
Desire manifests into
a dandelion's death in view:

Inspired by the childlike
belief that random isn't right,
aspired to persuade his plight,
to change his fate with petals white.

Placed destiny in breath and begged
for wind and luck to meet and wed
to let the girl inside his head
reveal herself tonight in bed:

       Be real instead of just a dream!
       Though sweetest one I’ve ever seen,
       I’ve only known you in this scene
       and need to feel your flesh, my queen.

He freed the flower from its home
and pleaded silently to sow
the seeds of love to call his own,
inhaled and held, then let it go…

While elsewhere in the universe,
his other half was also cursed.
While counting love-me's, -nots, and worse,
she waited for her heart to burst,

to find the one to call her first,
their winding streets to finally merge.
She picked a prayer from Mother Earth
for placement where their paths converge.

and now I see them from my swing
as lifted up by bended knees
each sparkling in the sun of spring,
these flirting lovers in the breeze.

I'm on their side, these weeds of woe.
I vote that they and bottled notes
and thoughts unpopped like bubbles float
in seas that sink the best of boats.
A Lover’s Knot Is Love or Not

I lie awake and listen
as the birds try to explain.
I long to cipher singing,
understand what they are saying.

My head begins to pound
against the tune of all their chirping.
No matter my attempt,
I won’t find love with all my learning.

A quiet cry inside my mind
is all I've left to hear--
a silent shout for what’s above
to come and quell my fear.

My lonely heart can’t beat in time
with nature’s oldest nurture.
My soul is smart to stay behind
while others fly much further.
My mind still spins around these rhymes
in search of something better,
while I feel caged in sticky ice
and worse than tearful weather.

Logic locks my love away from me.
Desire cries for keys to set it free.
Numbers even, odd, infinity
flower petals don’t speak honestly.
So I circle ‘round inside of me,
tied up and taunted by tautology.
Sideways Signs of Balance

Pause it if the arrows point
to left where Eros lives
         Pause it if this hero’s right
         inside your ears to give

Pause it if you shouldn’t miss
your absence from the scene
        Pause it if your company
        is not playing you back

Pause it if the energy
will cost more than it pays
        Pause it if the liturgy
        says anything but love

Pause it if the evergreen
pretends it never dies
        Pause it if the other sides
        of navel lights will cry

Pause it if the sin of man
requests you skip upbeat
        Pause it if the song you sing
        is why we all have lied

Pause it if emotive thoughts
patrol the soapbox tide
        Pause it if the faster forward
        feels unjustified

Pause it if the absolute
is farther than its value
        Pause it if the lesson’s lost
        to Math instead of Matthew

Pause it if the phonic facts
convene in fallacy
        Positive the bureaucrats
        redact reality
Nesting Doll

in a locked box of cotton with plastic-like passion
that covers the surface and buffers distraction
the tiles are colored in silence, explode
from a centered white sun to the walls made of snow

inside canvas clothing the clay blocks disease
secured in an ice chest and clenching the keys
its stillness is chilling to blood warm or cold
a plague’s placid mask hiding murders untold
with eyes like the sky in Seattle at dusk
it seethes and wreaks havoc on all my life’s lust
I feed it emotion without any clue
I am cutting myself in concealing my truth
a charm ‘round its neck is my pain well contained
sustained and held tight by my beastly restraint
the tears and the anger surrender their cries
beneath padded walls without voices they lie

the hurt I disguise behind sleep and a smile
grows stronger inside this slow death in a vial
too weak and too fragile the glass will not hold
when feelings breed action the sea overflows

but sickness keeps safe from such help my self sins
till heaven saves grace and hell shatters within

Home is where I fall asleep
Love is why I lock the door
Peace is whom I’ve yet to meet
Happy’s when I’m on the floor

Anger makes me change myself
Hate is never mine too long
Fear is how I ask for help
Sad’s a sign I need a song
feminine mistake

insane, in this day and age
to say that she’s to be seen,
unheard, unable to think,
as if you really believe
the head you heed is between
your legs and leads you to be
this world’s cerebral supreme

i think you’ll reek of defeat
when we decide to compete
inside the minds and the dreams
between the lines we conceive
Fourth Degree

workers suck it up
and take it down like vitamin c
the last time we decided
to swallow life in someone’s seed
honey sweet in locus nest
from localest of best-hive bees
cures the common folk of common cold.
its curse relieves
the anchors’ weight like here
and now and all its allergies
so here’s to cheers to energy!
we drink of them, let it will be
their blood, our bones,
our hearts, their stones

forever’s home is easel’s greed
is peace in homes like hallways clean?
and closing in upon our seams
our minds set sail at dawn and ease
disease by our own lines of song
the will we’re free to steal from hell
should heal the world and right what’s wrong?

in your own stead, stand not so still
and starved of stipend since the start
stay out as high on your own seed
as time will let you reach to seize
and keep the day to save esteem
and find your cell is your own key

to see the rising sight
horizon eyelids setting light
to lead us not into a war
but out of one to which we're born
as we were failed by brightest son
to find the way from all to one
Reverse Symbiosis

       Opposite preferences
       prevent trespasses:

Bugs stay under trees
They know better than to burn
They chase me from their habitat
with pestering and threat

The brave ones live and disappear
Darwinian digestion
The yellow just survive
an infestation of impatience

I squint and sweat and oxidize
unburdened by their bite
In shade they are immune to sun
but starve with food in sight
the grave escape

long forgotten but not gone
like the words but not the song
ride the waves of former wrongs
through a sea of sights and pawns

to the places we belong
with the faces we’ve all drawn
on the sketches of our moms’
with the crayons from beyond

where we believe in what’s within
but can’t be seen through all our sin
so we escape inside a grave
and make a wish that we’ll be saved
shut up and do something, you narcissistic unt


thank god you'll never understand
the way it looks inside my hands.
i wouldn't wish this life on death,
much less a soul who still has breath.
i only write the words i do
to practice telling what is true,
in hopes that it will flee my soul
and give me back my self-control.
expression seems to be the last
of ways to make my time feel fast:
confession of iconoclast/
attempt to make my now the past


it's like horizon's disappeared,
no reason i should persevere,
continue to endure the years:
they've only worsened all my fears.
when every day's a little harder,
every goal’s a little farther
out of reach, and range, and sight
i can't complete what i can't try


i feel like i've been locked inside
a lonely dungeon without light.
i watch the world around me spin
and wish i could at least pretend
to be the same and live their way--
content, convinced they have a say,
and laughing at the dumbest lines
(i'd kill for such an easy mind).
so stimulated by this realm,
unlikely ever underwhelmed,
it must be heaven, such delight
to find so much that they can like;
be interested in who they meet;
take pleasure in their company;
enjoying all the simple things,
like tv shows and diamond rings

their perfect universe to me
is foreign grass that's always green
a fence that i can never leap,
to learn the secret they must keep
to be so happy just to breathe.
i idolize these idle sheep
and count them all to fall asleep,
where i escape from why i weep.
i dream of somewhere far away
where someone waits for me to play
and prays as hard as i do here
that soon our bodies will be near


confined and isolated by
my need to feel and still ask why;
in search of people who relate
to share the view i love and hate;
i crave a saving grace who needs
as sane as craziest, same thing.
i can't explain what i don't know;
i'm sure i'll recognize it, though.
we'll find it in each other's minds
and leave behind the harder times
to laugh away the day and night
like “yeah, life sucks, but we're alright.”
Always Infinity Answers

A metronome of mental states
or stasis interaction
Like nature, nurture, chicken, egg--
the pump and all our passion.

As feet gain speed, so too, its beat,
but not the only method.
The pacing mind does find the time
will race when it’s intrepid.

The rhythm of the rivers red
determines how we feel?
Or do our thoughts become the drums
to which our bodies reel?
incomplete run-ons

the speakers aren’t telling the truth
        just conceding
to follow the leaders from youth
        into keeping
the people in lite of the times
        that are heavy
and blinded by sites of the crimes
        that were levied
in order to right all the wrongs
        that we never
took time to discover aren’t ours
        now or ever

like levees are breaking
and bellies are aching
and still we keep waging
these wars that are taking

the lives of our sons
who will die right in front
of our eyes so tight shut
that we can’t see the sun
        which is burning our world
        and it may as well ask
        if someone would like
        freedom fries and a bun

supersize all the seas
and ignore the disease
that is plaguing this place
and is firing trees

who are begging and pleading
but we hold our breathing
as less of a need
than our want to keep eating

and spending and wasting away all our time
on working for pennies and nickels and dimes
so that all the things we can see we can buy
to have and to hold but not think and not cry
while real green is dying to lives full of lying
and empty possessions are evermore vying
to fill our recessions in purpose and trying
replacing religion: addiction to buying

the forests are warning
our homelands are flooding
the skies’ eyes are pouring
and still we do nothing

our bodies are floating like ghosts we are hiding
opaque is the coast as the sea level’s rising

the children are shooting
        and parents aren’t teaching
the schools are not learning
        and nobody’s heeding

the words of our past
        we all know from the reading
but did they just waste
        all their fighting and bleeding

so that we the future
        could ruin our race
endanger our species
        then finish first place
are we there yet?


am i running late for suicide
is it past the date i should’ve died
instead of wait while slowly life
will take its course and pass me by

it tortures little lonely i
and forces me to twiddle rhymes
and fiddle, mix in words and cries
to riddle, fix these trying times

in sighing nights alone i lie
in bed and say that i'm alright
attempt convincing me i'm fine
i can’t complain since i'm alive
but is it right to just survive
in ever desperation vie
for satiation from the dire
straits of barely getting by
and day-to-day remain to pine
away for meaning more than mine

if i'm to stay based on belief
will it be worth continued grief
or if i go, where will i be
and will it house the rest like me
to breathe again in only dreams
and risk forgotten memories
for just to dust is guaranteed
and not to heaven, if i flee
of those i love, forever leave
although but few, so much indeed

so i have pondered and i've thought
about my choices quite a lot
to cut my body, let it rot
or off with head, with whom i've fought


upon the infinite abyss
of question and the term “exist”
it seems the point i tend to miss
is something of a hit or wish
that purpose is irrelevant
emotion is our president
when all we do is to prevent
the unavoidable descent
the present is the only tense
a second more is just a gift
and how i feel is solely left
for me to make the most of it


so when i'm stuck inside despair
i must depend on self-repair
(accept a lending hand when near
but absent, know that i can fare)
and say farewell to static vice
to then begin self-sacrifice
a ceremony of goodbyes
and little mini-suicides


i seek to slay the source of pain
but rather than spill blood in vain
my wrist is safe from razor blade
much deeper evil needs to drain
through leaky eyes i search for sane
from watered down and tired brain
release to cheek the hurt and hate
that leads to hell in hideaway
to kill the will to stay the same
to change the world within my frame
if sad inside, accept the blame
then satisfy the girl i made


i murder martyrs in my mind
and let myself get lost to find
that further down along the line
there always might be shining light

that’s not to say i'll never whine
or feel the world is cruel, unkind
that’s just the way, like day and night
the sun and moon will trade the sky


i'll never know what’s up ahead
until i'm there until i'm dead
endeavor to endow not dread
but hope for all unknown instead
instilling in myself somehow
to cope with living here and now
to climb a hill to roll back down
to flow as sea to grow from ground
forget the clock to which we’re bound
and watch as destiny goes ‘round
in waves of sight and savior Sound,
at times so quiet, others loud

i listen to my senses each
then all as one, consensus reach
and analyze the pit from peach
to eat the sweet, the other, teach
a lesson useful or at least
a method new to add to means
for ending scene the way i seek:
if lived in full i'll rest in peace

i don’t expect an easy ride
attempting to accept in stride
i keep my head up as a guide
remember just to breathe and try


in search of smiles, we embark
on journeys through the coldest dark
with stark perspective still in heart
we stumble, trip, and call it art
and though it’s harder than it’s not
we rise and fall in life and plot
when hope is frail, our rope distraught
we hold on tight and tie a knot
Girls Are Mean

If women are like fine wine,
get better as they age,
then girls are grapes
and must go sour
first before they change.
all fours

haven't felt this alive
since the last time i died,
was reborn, and resolved
to refurbish my mind

but resurfacing signs
of a lifeless design
are resurgent through time,
like a circle of trying

and purging the crying
is perfect prescribing
for turning my time
into tears into drying

while silently scribing
keeps guiding and driving
my selfish desire
to face fear of flying

so high on my own mind
and flushed of the frightening,
i smile just to show
being here now’s enlightening

and rush to the flood
of the blood to my head--
too much love’s not enough
when i'm up and undead.
Vacuum Aspiration

The doctor handed me a hard drive
with a transparent power cord attached.
On the opposite end of the cord was a stainless steel
straw with a lip like the Dairy Queen’s.
He told me not to worry and showed me
how to turn it on after I’d inserted it.
He said if I’d be good
I’d have an orgasm afterward.
I did as I was told then flipped the switch.

The walls of my womb clung
unsuccessfully to its contents.
I watched the globs travel
through the tunnel to their grave
as I screamed
uncontrollably in agony.
I thought it felt much longer
than the last time I’d been cleaned.
I flipped the switch again when I feared
my heart in danger of aspiration.

The doctor said I wasn’t good,
refused me my elation,
removed his fingers from the hood,
and drove me to the station.
Come Under Navel Trail

I came from the time of quaint in front

through the vast spans of pages in back
to the screen of modern censorship
filtering out the common’s sense
to leave sensation and risqué

across the imbrued distance
where pleasure turns to pressure
in the oft neglected regions
who rule our social circles

to arrive inside the defendant’s seat
and be pushed by wasted energy
down the flushing of your history

yet I cling to the ring of fire
I am told I should jump through
shoving myself from the petals of past
toward the toxic bowels of this current

Were my love letters not from you?

I’m sitting down again
         to eviscerate my soul
of all its current sins
         by worming through my heart
and adding up its whims
hilarious. delirious? mysterious hysterias.

ice cream
ice queen
(we all screen
for eye scream)

cold showers,
luscious locks.

wait a tick
don’t talk.
cue fan…

happy frizz?
broken ends?
damaged, dull?
get depressed!
healthy shine!
sexy mane!
don’t delay!
purchase sad!
buy today!
quiet conversations quickly escalate


like smiling through the tears undried
because you laughed so hard you cried
at jokes that call and ask you why
your life is such a poor punch line


i'm fighting with these feelings
and forgetting to find healing
in my mind’s most inner dwelling
waves of saviors are not helping

prayers are begging, but not hearing
to remember what’s unclearly
in the past undone my fearing
when the winter’s made me weary

of emotions dull and dreary
and i’ve tried all i can carry
and i’m treading ice but buried
underneath myself and staring

at the face of someone married
to a martyrdom of caring
down the art of doom she varies
on a line of failed and faring
while a smile always wearing
though her eyes are never pairing
little lies are white and tearing
her apart but never baring

all her heart inside holds scary:
what is life without its sharing?


between these eyes and smile lies:
the knows of neither how nor why,
the prose behind a blank disguise.
unseen inside, unheard i write
behind the words of pain. i hide
among the lines in blanks, i drive
away the hurt and signs of fight.
i lay to rest before a life
with any else survives a night.
i stay my best, my husband, wife
and ace the course i test to right
the place i left, the wrong, and strife.

i fail to see a truth or light
outside myself, although i strive
to save from blind my hopeful sight.
with age i find it fades from bright.

and scared’s unable to describe
the fright i harbor of my plight.
the type to wait and miss the flight
the planes amazing and on time,
the trains approaching, whistles cry
the chains of faith are tied too tight
to tracks beneath the passersby
to dream and wish of higher height.
delayed, unpromised does suffice
to bind to ground the time i bide
awaiting wow; reject alright

and bite the dust, i likely might,
before i meet this cowboy knight
to shine in love till time has died
and parts our ways if half’s alive


but empty armor disappoints
when sounds become a static noise.
a few impair what i could hear;
the rest turn numb my former fear.
the numbers unsuccessful pass
and each more slowly than the last.
or that’s the way it feels at least;
the funnest fast i've yet to reach,
like clocks unwatched and never cursed
and stops unwanted: still i thirst

and so i seize at any chance
to truly smile, laugh, or dance.
but please forgive my longest face
for sins against you and this place.
i simply can’t keep up the fake
for every second i'm awake
‘cause happy’s real when i'm asleep
and seldom else these days it seems.

so if you see me in the scene
attempting not to look so mean,
please understand it’s not conceit,
or attitude, or you, or me.
it's just my future’s looking bleak,
and even worse when asked to speak.
my every effort’s not to weep
and just enjoy until i leave
a little peace of body sweet--
the sweat of movement sets me free
from thinking, feeling anything,
except right now and here and be.

so stare if you must or hate if you need,
or cheer me up--i hope i heed.
but with my luck, you won’t succeed,
believe me, if i could, you’d lead.

i'm not a bitch, i swear, i’m only
choosing: over settled, lonely.
The Only Way to Out is Through


We pray, vote, wish, hope
       for any or many forms of it.
We’ll do anything to get it
       except it.
We beg the gods to grant it
       without the price of sacrifice.
We wait for it to knock
       but we refuse to venture out for it.
We speak of it like a good we can buy,
       instead of the goal for which to strive.


It will not begin until we become
         disturbed enough to do it.
It will not survive unless we commit
         each moment to its movement.

Desire is a distance
        far away from activation
                farther still from execution.


Change is not by chance;
      is not by choice;
              it is by change.
Foreign Knight

For a night
you saved me
from my skeptic
guarded heart,
but when I woke alone
only a dream
escaped the dark.
one feat at a time


i wake up on the left of bed.
the only right’s inside my head.
when nighttime lies, the sun feels dead.
the singeing light of day, i dread.

avert my eyes from truth awake,
i curse the end of slumber's play
and pull the covers over tight,
alarm clock screaming, still i fight
to stay the way i dream to write
and hide from rays in which i've cried.

i praise the false within my mind.
repeatedly, i press rewind.
a moment more of heaven, please,
before i sever fantasies.
i beg the beeping: cease, desist,
and let me keep illusive bliss
a little longer, i insist,
for when i'm forced to exit sheets
each second seems a daunting feat.


just grant me to indulge in sleep,
as my escape, my break, retreat,
release from breathing heavy, deep
throughout the hours with the sheep

i follow feeling hollow, cheap
in herds, resist the urge to weep

till willingly i fall and sigh,
alone, but not for long at night
i drift beyond in waves of brain,
submit to symptoms of insane,
attempt the method, unashamed,
regardless of results unchanged.

the only way i know to cope
with growing old and losing hope:
i flee to my remaining friends--
allowing me to just pretend
that things get better in the end--
the sandman and my r.e.m.

so let me lie, from struggle, rest.
how i get by, survive at best,
is maybe not the healthiest,
but i don't mind. when happiness
is near in any way amidst
the trouble i can't help exists,
i take it, any form that fits,
and make it mine while time permits.
Slumber Fast

Insomnia breeds much needed expression
of emotion buried deep in The Garden Repression.

Dreaming is wishing and though it is precious,
it only perpetuates sinful depression.
Lengthy Hollow

My eyes have often been described as deep-set,
        but when my gynecologist told me
I have an “abnormally deep vagina”
        I pondered the coincidence. I wondered

if every woman
        with a high waist
were similarly endowed.

if the acute angle
         that extended up from my clitoris toward my narrow hips
were illustrative of my lengthy hollow.

if obtusely angled women
        had better orgasms than mine

and if their climaxes
        were achieved more easily.

if those pears,
        the reciprocals of my body shape,
were better suited for procreation.

if my throat and bowels,
        my ears and nostrils
would be classified
        in the same way.
where all this depth
        would lead.

if the various tunnels of my physique
        would converge inside my core.
if they would compact my insides
        with their intrusive fathoms.
if my heart would have to work harder
        to reach my surfaces.

if my mate would feel inadequate
         if I informed him of the observation.
if he already knew and had been exploring
         like a diver, searching for my floor.
“Yeah? Did you tell him that he has an abnormally big mouth?”

I laughed
Plus and Minus

Life is a simple equation:
a function of pleasure and pain.
Your place in mine
depends upon
how much of each
I gain.
rough thoughts


i say my prayers to a far-off galaxy
hidden within prefrontal cavity
i convolute and then call tacitly
imploring goddesses, come back to me

bring me the mystical capacity
lift and stiffen my tenacity
return my virtue to vitality
alleviate my austere malady

dilute the salt inside the sad of me
make me sob if it so has to be
rid my soul of all the bad in me
usher a smile, divert the vapid me


when means to friends leave me deficiency
i dive in mind to find divinity
invoke her kindness for my sanity
to grant me peace with some serenity

her heart will heal all that is hindering
hurt unveiled and then surrendering
disintegrated brain rekindling
chemical flames i feared were dwindling

i search within to signal saviors
from worlds of nonverbal behavior
faces of strangers and of neighbors
all gazing back at me through papers
empire waste of mind


like minerals these men are old
and ways of war are ever boring
as rome rose long but shortly fell
we build this final warning


an empire waste so high on greed
forgot so fast his colonies
in fashion like the fascist king
of doom’s imperiality
will ever need what’s right inside
but can’t be seen by his blind eyes
because his hell is his own lies
his hello is deceit disguised
discipled down with stifled sound
but seeming lessly like as loud
a killer crown than cloud of doubt


foreshadowed in a shaking hand
was forced by man to foretell plans
of future failures yet to fan
and out-forsake forfeited fight
for what forgave us for our fright

and all their flaws will be forgot
so soon within the fortress brought
our womb and we won’t wake to play
his fortune’s sleight of hands and games
and swift by word of mouth descend
the drowning razored point across
and through in deep conceit so some
conceive to disagree
with devil
me without reply

from seed his hollow halogen
it heeds his heathen heart’s misleading
echoes what goes on beneath
to be more full than beyond need
he’s all alone in silent sheets
he sleeps and slips and softly weeps
and reaping wrath from within weak
he wastes his scheme in spending crime
the profits prayed for in his prime
but answered by the prophet time
to prey upon pubescent nights
a sense of someone else’s me
amidst the whetted whims of we
when in the hands of innocence
he spent and squandered tears immense
for wasted fears whose real offense
was just an ego on defense


of all his years in yearning
learned the loss of all his bets
was off limits to him who lets
none of his stealth seep out a feeling friend
of why they’re fighting without win
and falling deeper down within
they neared but never quite turned on
the dealer’s sight from night to dawn
in earth’s first garden even love
from gods won’t be enough to live
a lifelike kind of just like his
he’s in his shell and it still sins
lacking apple like electric kiss
to save himself from lying stiff
inside the truth where lies the fact
that he’s a passive slaving sack
subservient to master reign
his chemist always stays the same
reacting very readily
conducted by sick melody
contained by chaliced malady
restrained although conformity
is felony he feels
out of his yesteryear he will be here
and out of all harm’s way will he still play
his games for immortality
to thank and blame for keeping him
from falling from his throne
or victim to another’s form

of thrown against the wall where woe is me
and so is he and there he stays
and every second he decays
a case of rot in heathen heaven
his safe haven from his heart’s art’s hearse


what could be worse than what occurs
if we let the tyrants trample
over blessed earth’s first sample
let’s run rampant in our temples
incantations sound and ripple
down the timelines that we trickle
filled with faith from childlike fountain
drink this water be forgotten
live for no one but your moment
know that now she is her own him
and without her he is no one
for without love we are unknown
and though unknown we are one love
if you have to ask, you can’t afford it

i know what it feels like
to beg for the truth
asking a mute
to give you his word


every thing seems so weird
when i see things so clear
that i’m thinking what’s real
is worth drinking these tears

and forgetting to hear
what i've held to be dear
could not be much worse
than what i am forced

to fear: that these years
i have filled up with verse
seen in fact and plain view
are of haste and of hue
in vain taste vying blue

let the light bleed the truth

but were wasted to you
as the yellowest fool
for the shallowest pool
of my undying drool


and the dread you will dream
in these so-called unseen,
and yet sheepish ravines
of what’s ravaged between

what is right and what’s wrong
        and who’s left to lie long
                in the rivers of song
or of styx will be sung

through the halls made of bricks
filled with lead and your tricks
where your walls won’t protect
and your head will insist
you’re insane if you wish
to keep wishing upon
and keep waiting for/on
all these stars that predict
one will never evict

as it sets this bright sun
is betwixt all and none
what will not be forgot
will resound in regret
in the words never said
and the love ever read
in the times tried and tread
passing cries, lying beds

i believe mine are dead.
static mellow dramatic


i woke slowly but not up
in silence and unstirring
exanimate, eyes neither shut
nor focused, nor intending

myopically stared at myself
through mirrors cut and pasted
i wondered where she went
and who she’d been and when i'd come


still motionless and static
i was lying there so long
waiting just to wait some more
and desperate for a song

i knew the verses better
than i did my own two hands
i kept the melody playing
while inside i died to dance

i tried believing anything
that claimed it had a tune
rhythm is my savior
patterned waves to get me through

the moonlight watched me spin like clocks
as i sought another’s help
but sirens came from somewhere sane
and locked me in my cells

i sank in sand of heavy self
and grasped at grains of salt
then gulped the ocean of my tears
to swallow all that hurt

i hid beneath the flowing floor
for fear that i'm unsure
then fought the night who’d slain my sight
and killed the little girl

comprehension self-inflicted
stood guard to block all heart
till i escaped the hideaway
evasion of the dark


since all the world is just a phase
and life is like the sea
an oscillating swing and sway
consistent chemistry

it will be alright that i might dive
unafraid to ride the tides of me
but when she calls and we converge:
in sync serenity

peaceful play and quiet calm
come to me by myself
thrilled elation and dysphoria
require someone else

whether stoic, sad, or heathen
dynamics never change
emotion means i'm moving
so i'll always stay this same

now, the moment, is my canvas
and i have to paint today
i make the most of what i'm given
so i can throw it all away
dirty snow white


she wanders through the cold terrain
without a call for help in vain
she knows no soul would answer back
if even heard they’d only laugh

as branches block she tears each down
they rip her skin but still no sound
she stops for breath and starts to cry
but wipes her face and dries her eyes

no time to feel on this brigade
in camouflage of painted face
the pain behind it hides away
inside a cave and forced to stay

for fear if ever it escaped
there’d be too much for her to take
and slowly she’d disintegrate
and lose the will forget the way

so surely better she believes
than let it go is leave it be
she doesn’t know without release
it slowly grows and burrows deep

eventually will have to cease
exploding hell will be unleashed
she’s so afraid of her decease
oblivious it’s just disease

that she could cure if first set free
instead of locking up the key
enabling the beast to eat
the treasure piled up beneath

and all the while that it feeds
she doesn’t see the loss of feast

she walks along abandoned streets
and sings a song without a beat
she never lets herself seem weak
or rest too long or else she’d think

and she knows where that path would lead

to be aware of what she needs
to deal with demons as if weeds
from farthest root to highest leaves
to face the fear of her defeat
and win the war against the seed
would cleanse herself of what impedes
her growth from sprout into a tree

but till she’s dying to find peace
and then decides it’s time to heed
the hurt will suck her like a leech
and warmth within her soul will freeze

the show goes on so she must too
the motions roundabout and through
recite the lines like nursery rhymes
emotion of the metered kind

she’s lost inside her forest mind
she smells the smoke of fire nearby
she circles round in aimless paths
and slowly chokes on hedge of gas

So many different shades.

Ever? Lime? Aqua? Olive?
Forest? Pear? Electric? Tea?
Hunter? Army? Emerald? Mint?
Money? Envy? Smoking weed?
Clover? Newbie? Politics?
Asparagus? Or as in bean?
As broccoli? The stalk or leaf?

Please clarify, which did you mean?
The Law of the Gods


I’ve such a fear suggesting here
is where I’ll always hail.
The voice within is vice against
my aspiration trail.
Success is not an option
though I try, to no avail
as it resists the wish I waste
that soon it will curtail.
Insisting I consistently
assist myself to fail;
I lack the knack, the gut and back
required to prevail;
the punch I pack serves one attack:
my psyche to assail.


This self-fulfilling prophecy
is infinite in scale.
If only I could persevere
to cure as it does ail,
perniciously perfecting
how my hopes it can impale.
It suffocates the oxygen
from thoughts that I inhale.

Desist from disrespect
that I destructively regale?
To act in my self-interest seems
a track beyond the pale.


To sabotage oneself is such
an overtired tale.
Succumbing to our doubt is dumb,
and done by minds too frail.
To overcome when insecure
is not just for the hale;
with every task worth doing
comes along the urge to bail.

The dream we disregard and then
abandon will go stale
when we decide it isn’t worth
the work it would entail.


Desired selection means our will is Way
       The future election, decision today

The loser unsettled on wedded is winning
       Refuse to be beggar, embedded beginning
To whittle the world from what would to the truth
       Embezzle the better of halves in the youth
To pick, of the thorny, which prick of the pack
       produces the rose the regretful will lack

The love we demand is our mandated Rule
        The right of extending the line in our pool
Insistent on excellence, Gold in his drool
        The helix’s upward mobility school
Dependent on whom we let swim in our waves
        Defining the sinkers as dwellers in caves

From whim to want to physical need
      The answer is naturally modified seed

We are the soil of human success
       We are the choosers of how we progress
We are the givers of breath after death
       We are eternal returning from left


Oppression is futile, evident fear
       Immaculate fairies, inaccurate tier
Feminine freedom is not of man’s law
       Nature has crowned us to deem see or saw
Breach of our liberty, crimes against life:
       Extinction is easy with us out of sight
But one of their wise for many our x
       With medicine now, we could prosper with less

Evolution’s a race that they are to run
We are the judges and we shoot the gun
Dearest Dorothy

Dearest Dorothy,
are you bored of me?
Do I make you cringe?
Would you like to binge
on my verbal purge?
(How very absurd.)

Lucky is the land
holds you in her hand.
If you should get bored
and would like to haunt,
rest in peace assured:
nothing I more want.

If you fake it

doesn’t that mean that
you’ve given up on realing it
doesn’t that mean that
you’ve lost the will to try
doesn’t that mean that
you’ve nothing left to do
doesn’t that mean that

you’ve begun to wait to die?

a monotone no longer tries
the song alone can cause a rise
inside the bones of those too wise
who won’t succumb to kiss's guise
(suffice to say wet lips are nice)

but know behind the sign of right
is left and wrong and body sleight
so long is short and worse a plight
than body’s job to hate its life

we cut ourselves without the knife
when we let hell, not heart, decide
the head of strong is evil’s guide
into a well that drowns all fright
but with it sight and life will lie:
to censor senses is to die

but we submit without a why
or where we went when we were high
and there we sit on horse, astride
oblivious of how to ride

       the idiots enjoy the tide
       insidious, the moon invites
       lascivious and lewd to strike
       an interim that tricks the psych
       and means to leave the master Might
       in scenes of laughter at its strife

so we adapt to stimuli
by never swimming late at night
despite the facts that fight inside
our feelings always brushed aside

we follow rules good schools designed
what matters most below the mind
and over time the numb will hide
the truth so well it starts to rhyme
in ears that can’t identify
unable now to recognize
the ways that we once loved to write
the deaf will jest and point and chide
the geniuses who multiplied
the thoughts that caused the soul’s divide
and lost the cost of placing pride
beneath consensus of the five
the thrilling proof that they’re alive

       a war between the organs bites
       the tongues we taste all pleasure by
       in battles of the brain and trite
       the id will never lose to i
       for if our knowledge is the key
       then passion turns it, sets us free
       the only way we understand
       is ears, eyes, noses, mouths, and hands
my mind sways, never stays, always strays from the start


i look good like it’s my job
sometimes it feels like it is
misunderstood, i play the part
and ply the peels off his lids

i try to charm and then disarm
so i can seal without kiss
i mean no harm, it’s just a swarm
of sweetness sucking you in

don’t be alarmed, my heart is warm
when i reveal i have sinned
and furthermore i'm just a girl
stealing her way to get his

i plead not guilty and the fifth
but never claim innocence
though i see justice in my means
that lead to these kinds of ends

not for revenge, i'm never stingy
with the love that i give
it’s simpleton to think i'd shun
or want to hurt Mother’s kids

a lesson learned uncynical
is all i'm seeking to send
my face is sold to feed your lens
until it really sinks in

a message mends the damage, dents
incurred by mind and good sense
listen to bliss beyond my hints
or what you’ve heard from your friends

confess a wish you’re wont to miss
as you persist to pretend
a blessing bent on burning blinders
throwing caution to wind
and i will smile while i'm smoking
out your demons from within
demeanor cool as courtesan
i'm cortisone for your skin

to heal a wound the world has wound
inside a zone without zen
concealed a noose and turned around
the high of hope into dread

congealed the juice and burned up/out
the blithe to rope and to red
real is a ruse but i, a muse
to make you open your head

here is the news and hear it soon
or else your heart will be lead
undo the screws in brain and lose
the lanes that left you for dead
dainty indeed is just a seed
i plant to keep you on edge
like of your seat, attention please
to me and all that i've said


the moment now is what we’ve got
so make it count more than a lot
do all you want and we’ll abound
refuse to rot or come back down
listen to cells and learn to love
follow what’s felt when it’s enough
you’re all you need, let freedom ring
inside the seems that you perceive
the point of life is just to be
a circle’s round if you can see
a poignant cry and happy teeth
depend the other upon each

No wonder you’re alone.
neither fun nor interesting.
You do not move the minds
despite time’s generous donations.

What’s the point?
subtle to extreme?
What about aestheticism?
What about reality?

One or two strokes in a semi-striking way
among nothing to but one.
no motion, no passion.
the dullest of both worlds.
With all the freedom of forever
locked inside a closet
displayed through a keyhole

Just because it goes
doesn’t mean it should be ridden fast.

Just because it flows
doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be read slow.

What a
waste of words.
Open Wide

There is where we go when
Theirs are not our own
They’re as many ones as
Th’air we breath or won’t

Every word’s a poem
every sound has feet
every sense, emotion
every thought has beat

Life is in the eyes of
those who are not blind
by the knowledge stored
from their pass of time
the you in me, the us in them, and they’re all i’s and ears and limbs


when my thoughts all come together
like the dots connected, colored
write my time to pass, discover
read my mind when it’s been weathered
worn and tired of its fetters,
tethered crimes of untogether

let her cry to make it better
dry my eyes with my own feathers:
fly so high when things get better
lest you die inside a kettle
calling pot to ask forever
for a sign that there’s a heaven

neon lights won’t cause you leaven
like the rise of laz from dead end
turn your fire into breading,
rise with heat and just keep sweating
don’t look back or fret the segments
of this life you’ve shed, regretting
set the bar above the bedding
holding down you from forgetting
worldly circles when you’re trekking,
trudging cycles dry and wetting

throughout always i’ll be heading
toward a spiral, paid and begging
dimming days i spend detesting
all the hate across, perplexing

the insane and the unresting
text will save me from my messy
when you pester and you test me,
jesting haze from self will bless me
melting reins of hell and stressing
learning rays of right from guessing


we obtain our sight from nesting,
but we strain and fight, perfecting
gifts of chemistry, the setting
for a comedy correcting
any plot-holes while detecting
the untold and unsuspecting


they un-old and at their wedding
with a wink they both were ready
turned a twinkle into getting
stars in eyes and lines of netting
martian signs with love and letting
little minds inside extending
further wide than were intending
pending hearts and height and mending

lending memories remind me
how i look will help to find me
when i'm sick of all my whining
and distracted from their dining
inattentive to beguiling
and desire needs more guiding
it’s just hiding behind piling
feelings hired, healed, and firing
i'll retire while rewiring
files i left without goodbyeing
Have Knots, Won’t Work

The haves will sell us pleasure
in the form of cash injections.
The cost will be the loss
of what the lawyers call convictions.
the tyrants of self-discipline

i rule myself with an iron fist
i let her slip only when all’s fixed
i must insist she persists to give
her everything to every wish
and resist to leave any unmarked lists
so she makes all her mistakes unmissed

and if i ever might forget
to triple all her double checks
she’d hit me with the big regret
to switch me out for her new best
and if i never fell again
she might just let me keep my head

‘cause we all know the queen has said
you NEVER paint the rows unread
Pipe Dreams


Some sex is sold and often cheap
but I can't come unless for free
Well, not exactly. What I mean--
the price is high, but not in green:
expect the best of everything

Expensive taste in how you treat
your family, friends, and ones we meet
Express yourself; don't want to cheat
but if you do, don't lie to me
Respect is honest, not deceit
and if you want it, give it, please

I'll never wear a diamond ring
or other such replacement things
but I insist on what I need:
existence in your underneath
The surface perfect's not enough
I want the deepest, truest love
No simulation will suffice
for stimulation from inside
throughout, all over, body too
I'll show you mine, you show me you

So see I'm not an easy buy
If truth be told, my shelf is high
and not for sale except for life
without or with the label “wife”

I'm not a trophy, but a prize
possession that will hold you tight
until the day you say goodbye
you'll be my sunshine; I, your sky

I don't obsess on happy ends
I just request your now is spent
with me above the rest of friends
not all the time, but lots of it

I will not settle for a piece
who doesn’t fit the jigsaw teeth
completing catalytic key
with enzyme specificity


From head to toe and skin to heart
our cells destroy ourselves apart
combine and melt, become an art
our soul as one when near or far

I search and hope and wish and pray
that someday someone else will save
but serve myself while I must wait
for fantasy to be awake

Impatiently, but without choice
I meet and greet, but leave the boys
I can't control the feelings void
I need a man and not a toy

I know him well from all my verse
I cannot help rejecting worse
Though I might die before the first
I'm forced to pine till it occurs
Vanity is the Remedy for Loneliness

I’m pretty unbelievable
The best of both and many worlds

I’m brilliant and unleaveable
But happy to be left alone

My heart is wide and in my eyes
and open almost all the time

I’m here and now and will be when
you ask me to and after then

I think too much and feel too strong
I tell the truth because--why not?

I’m passionate and full of thought
I have myself and that’s a lot

I don’t believe in you or god
And only change will never stop

I’ll never know, that’s why I hope
I’ll always learn to grow to cope

‘cause life is short and days are rough
I dance and laugh and scream and love.
hail music

hail music, full of rhythm, the beat is with thee.
blessed art thou among wavelengths,
and blest is the movement of your vibrations.
holy music, mother of Sound,
play for us dancers,
now and each moment of our breath.
Note to Selves


in isolation, we exist,
a constellation, stars amidst
anxiety attacks and fits,
society in secret blitz

against us all. we take the hits
and get back up; we will not quit.
we cannot let them win so quick.
we're still too young to feel so sick.
across the map and each alone,
surrounded by machines and drones,
we're looking for a life, a home,
a little peace, and one day, om.


i know it seems so hard sometimes
to live among the wars and crimes,
when everywhere you turn is plight
and all you want is not to fight
with everyone who wants a night
of sweat with you, but isn't right,
or else the ones who need a knight
and think we should compete for sight
(when really you would rather hide
in one in whom you can confide).
but neither side will try to find
the bliss enjoyed so by the blind,
the person that exists behind
the face they hate or think divine.
they lack the depth for which you pine.
don't even fret their shallow lines.
it doesn't matter. you define
the limits by which you’re confined.


it hurts your heart to take in stride
when desperation's been your bride.
an easy win would feel so nice,
but just a friend would well suffice
to save you from your only wife,
the torture of your lonely life,
to strip you of the hate and strife
and hold your hand to drop the knife.


i understand your state of mind--
demands, remarks, it makes unkind;
The Man and monster live inside.
they dwell in fear within your pride.
subjecting self to sacrifice,
neglecting help, objectified,
the pressure to appear refined,
the measure of your worth, a size,
adhere to peers when criticized
and pierce your ears if she decides
to say that they will laugh, deride
if you rebel or won't abide
It's all the rage today! Inside!
Don't be left out! Just be page nine!


it's still not over after school.
forever we are sold what's “cool”
be pretty, proper, skinny, sweet,
politely mannered, barely eat,
and only say the lines you read,
and color in them using pink,
but never write, or draw, or think,
be vulgar, dirty, crude, or stink.
just wear whatever they call chic,
remaining mild, modest, meek,
enjoy the gifts he buys--eat, drink
and one day maybe even mink!

have surgery to make you sleek,
stay perfect every way... this week.
do as you’re told and follow lead.
exchange yourself, your wants, your needs,
and all for one big diamond ring?
the point of life is love? or bling?

we subscribe to glossy magazines
convincing us Be Plasticine!
and lose originality
regardless of fatality
intelligence is not the deed
of dainty dolls like we should be.
opinions are dominions, please,
of gentlemen who far exceed
us barbies in ability
to reason intellectually.
so just conform, then bear his seed
and wear the collar quietly.

be pure and tame, the finest breed
till he unfastens reins and leaves
to race another in this Prix
abandoned mare: though branded, free
and left with only memory
of somebody you used to be
before he made you just his queen.
remember, she is never king.


but aces high beats everything,
and Nature's ours, inside our sleeve,
the dealer of the grandest scheme.
She's got our back. She’s on our team.

i don't deny that things look bleak,
and i don't blame you when you're weak.
it takes a toll on strongest souls
to make it through, retain a whole.
and even greater of a goal:
to be a girl and in control
of who you are and what you own:
your brain and body, heart and bone.
you're deeper than you look or know.
the gift of life is yours to grow.
you don't need things, or them, just you,
some love, some water, air, and food.

i promise there's a better view.
the other side holds something new.
the only way to out is through
and over past and present, too.
so bow and bid them both adieu
and give the future what it's due.

we'll get there soon. until we do,
we've got good tunes and dancing shoes.

You’ll figure all of this out later

when you can follow your own train of thought
into its realm of sense and plot

without feeling insaner.

                                      About the Author

        Christina Grey enjoys drinking carrot juice and dancing by herself. She dreams of
building the perfect swing set for adults. She is working on her second novel, since first novels
are notoriously wretched. If you follow her on twitter, you may be randomly selected for effusive
thanks in her next acceptance speech.


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