Justice is the only Key that Winds up your Words.

When I was apart of your back, I was your spine.

Holding you up against the strongest of storms.

You never faltered off the path.

Sometimes I would bend you and move you to do everyday things.

Things that were necessary to your existence.

I was apart of that existence, and you never let that slip from my mind.

At times I was your muscles, scrunching your face up or winking your eye.

The best of days were when I was your blood.

Flowing through your stout body.

I ran with the wildest currents down a leg or an arm.

A journey I never let go of.

Sometimes you got hurt.

And in pain you released a small part of me, but for only for little moments.

Straight into the ground where I dried up.

You tried to stop me from leaving, with a band aid or stitches.

But I couldn't stay when you were cut into.

Because I was the one forcing your ligaments to push you off a bike.

And it was me numbing your nerves, so no reaction would take place when you burned yourself on your Mother’s stove.

I was the one inside, hurting you. 

So I could leave you.

On the days that didn't seem real, I was never apart of you.

I was me, and you were inside of me.

Crawling into my heart through my veins.

Forcing my mind to tell my muscles to smile.

Those days we would slide into each other in a way that cannot be imagined, only experienced.

You poured yourself into me.

Like an apple running down a crushing hand.

In your secrets, you couldn't stand the sight of my wrists and of my face.

The trick is, getting you to think that all of this was all your idea.

-Swillow

Rain is Much Deeper than a River.

I once was eager,

to see you and to think about your green boxers that are still under my bed.

But knowing that only drove you away,

I have become a rock of mental numbness.

No longer longing to be seen by anyone else,

invisible to the dirt and the ants that crawl over my smooth side,

curved by the swift current that invaded my structure. 

They all found this funny,

and they would hit me with their words of laughter and innuendos that I knew most foxes couldn’t see through.

But I had my glasses on, every day.

Ready to draw out the gap between my nose and my somber eyes.

Your leg was the only one I could stand on in the night>

And you were the only one I drew a line for between physical respect,

and moral pleasure.

You decided to walk on both sides of my soul.

Proving only that I would let you. 

I once had a hunter,

and he tried to shoot me with his arrow of disinterest.

But those never pierce through thick skin.

He tangled himself with green vines and the snaked tongues of other young preys.

And that’s how much I still want you
Oh, and sometimes people lie.

I dropped daylight in your lap
and you breezed by yet again.

-Swillow

No Playtime for Pills.

You brought the rain to my doorstep.
And I soon could not remember your face.
It was misplaced with vinegar,
like a timeless capsule of lost touches
suspended in the ground.
Never making it past the dirt,
and empty cans
promising me energy.

I popped one open,
drawing smoke from the foil
like we did that one night.
One night,
on your truck bed,
instead of in mine. 
Loveless lips exposed your thoughts,
along with pictures of your son.

I still couldn't remember what you looked like,
underneath all of the drained expressions and
unfetching movements that
still make sure I don’t feel

fear.

-Swillow

You Can't Fight the Feeling.

Un-phased, I see a
soft haze coming from your parsed
mouth folds and reduced lettering,
that I never let escape from the back of your tonsils.
And tonight I think there is room for a little more back talk.
As I notice the less I become, the more of others there seems to be.
So I draw back into the turtle shell.
Steady the helm
of your rocket ship,
as we bla-
stammering along they all come to check out the
movements of a small one.

I am the best of trouble.
And you, the worst good there is. 

-Swillow

Monogamy.

And once you burst
open, unseen,
like a splatter painted sun.
I see the light
in the color,
and in my future.
Knowing all that I give is
granted to you,
for the sake of a passion
so curious,
it will open many shutters.
And framed pictures will break
in order to eliminate,
straight to penetrate.
Resurrect the page
of the words that
slowly kill the hours,
and friendly fires. 

-Swillow