Expiration Date

Chilled and silent, like moldy chicken

Two weeks old and inedible

Façade engrossing my cheeks and

Spreading to my lips

Grin, bear it

Eyes are queasy and delicate

But sleep utters dreams in my ears

Those, which I can’t forget

Those are the worst memories of all

Dark in there, but unwilling to venture

To the other side

To burned, even in the decadence of masks

Ugly, yet smug and smiling

Best,
Anna Belle Lee

I always knew, and wished it away in the fondest of my nightmares 

Finding Fearlessness

icewater of rushing

Copper Calm

cauterizes, mesmerizes, revitalizes

Tears of sadness bring only madness.

smile. -send out all that is vile- .

Anger and fear meddle with the perception of the mind.

We may find positivity is quick to spread,

 providing a simple remedy:

leave dread behind.

                         tschüss,      

marta frieda hart

Take my Hand; I'll Take You to Never-Never Land

I am the ultimate out of body experience.

                                                      Right here.


Within the confines of this tiny, pockmarked vessel; set sailing

                                                                                                                

                backwards,               below,                     within,

                                      above,                forwards,               

                                                                                            Without.

Word of warning:
Once trapped inside my limbs of wonder you may never get out.
                                                             -Stuck within the whirling vortex of what is-

  You will

            become pain.

                                          You will
                                                     be lost.

                                                                               You will
                                                                                          be me.

Tschüss,

Marta Frieda Harta

Make Way

Illustrious effervescent illusions affect the industriousness of the 9-5 everyday.
                                                                                               
...Or do they?

Tschüss,               

Marta Frieda Hart

Wonderland

There we were on a crystallized mass

Walking on water and feeling like Gods

Embedded in layers of clothing

Below freezing but filled with burning heat

The world around us was dead silent

But beneath my cool façade was activity

Chest tensing and easing, soothing and burning

Beneath the snow slumbers life, waiting to bloom

My hand wandered and fell upon chilled peach lips

I yearn for that taste in my mouth again

My gaze glazed over into his vivacious icy eyes

I fall into them with a crashing sensation

While the world slumbers, I take in the sound of breath

I fill myself with that image,

And a chuckle echoes through the

Powdered forest.

When I am alone and waiting

I think of that burning

In my wonderland

Best,

Anna Belle Lee

Grounded

Sweet, salty, darkened earth surrounds one of smaller stature.

She can hardly stand it.

Crystal-like cocoon of solid solitude consumes her.

She is confined but not quite safe.

Crossing point of sharp stones and crevace.

She sits suspended; neither here nor there.

Silken hair cascades; thrust back in unsteady winds.

She is grounded alongside the bay.

Sea-eagles splash and waves prey.

In an instant she is gone away.

Tschüss,
Marta Frieda Hart

Ritual of Accomplishment

I have a biannual ritual when I pretend that I am going leave everything and everyone I ever loved behind for an exciting new life somewhere else.

Usually that dream comes to me when something horrible has happened, which oddly enough happens bi or tri annually.            

Lately I’ve found that the ritual has occurred on a more monthly basis and I couldn’t help but wonder why.

I wonder why it is that when I look at the aging faces of my peers that I am horrified

I wonder why it is when I notice my friends having babies and getting married as if it is simply expected of us.

I wonder why it is that that I have achieved so very little in my life and yet it is probably the most I ever will.

I wonder if I am beginning to romanticize the idea of children as if my legacy has already died.

I wonder why when I go to work everyday and do the same monotonous job, succeeding to make 8.75 an hour.

I wonder if I will become anything or if already I am reaching my end.

Perhaps if I were escape to a new place I would succeed to accomplish all I dream.

Perhaps if I succeed to exist in accomplishment in my dreams, one day I will.            

           

Perhaps I am a dreamer, but I’d like to think I’m not the only one.

Perhaps I am selfish, but I imagine I am not the worst.

In the end it doesn’t matter and perhaps I wonder I if I will fall into death as I dream of accomplishment at an age of one-oh-four. 

Best,

Anna Belle Lee

Dancers in my Head

There are many confined to my cranium

She gasps and shudders;
Violent motions escape in sharp bursts.

Revelations of fear and rage.

Another she is calm and contained.

Her movements slow and calculated;

Appearing effortlessly ethereal.

He leaps and contorts;

Pulsing rhythmically with the music.

Vivacity.

Raw Emotion - Pure Force.

Powerful and Unknown.

They dance together. They dance apart.

Their movements are fluid yet always contain a quirk, some flaw. 

The truest beauty is found within imperfection.

They are all my mind sees when my eyes are clouded.

They leap, glide, and twist beyond fast boundaries.

I define their movements when I'm incapable of controlling my own.

Sometimes it can be uplifting, a remembrance of what I loved, what I could do.

But now I can't.

I don't even have real dancers.

All I have is the ones in my head who (like the Willis) strive to dance me dead.

Tschüss,

Marta Frieda Hart