My poem titled “Undone”

I had been undone

So slowly and tenderly

That I didn’t realize it was happening

Somewhere mixed up

In all the pain and the grief

I was changing

Into something more

Than I ever knew I could be

-Collins

My poem titled “This Dance We Do”

My poem titled “Understand”

My five line poem titled “What Feeds You”

My poem titled “Waves Break on Their Own”

My poem titled “White Noise”

My poem titled “Plastic Dream Destruction”

They tell us times are tough
And we question how we got here
We make choices and shake ourselves down
Trying to understand what the hell they’re talking about
We try to tell them all the heartache is self-inflicted
That life can’t possibly be that cruel on its own
We create the illusion of destruction
We destroy ourselves
In the pursuit of some plastic dream
We see others break and bleed and call it winning
The wiser strap packs to their backs and hit the trails
Flushing consumerism and media from their systems
We ask how we got here again
And they place pills in our hands and tell us to get in line
Join in with everybody else
Because once the eyes start straying
The real destruction begins
 
-Collins
 

Autobiography

Fence post. Barbed Wire. Fence post. Barbed wire.
Flashes, flashes, and more flashes. Nothing concrete but those two images. Blurring together, creating an old fashioned movie reel playing through my head.
Nothing-ness. Blackness, utter confusion.
Are those…what happened?
I bring my hand up to my face, my eyes barely able to focus. Blood is dripping down my arm, bright crimson against alabaster.
I look down. Slices. Slices upon more slices.Tattered fabric, tattered skin. The stark white of the dermis. I loved this shirt. This shirt held good memories…now it’s gone. Like the piece of flesh I left on the wire.
Wait…I wasn’t alone. I’m not alone. Where is she?
“ARE YOU OKAY?” I scream out, finding the huddled figure of my friend.
“Ow…errrg…I’m okay!”
Tunnel vision. Am I under water? I think I need a hospital.
Frantic eyes, darting every which way. How will I get out of here? Help…I need help.
“Help!” I scream out, praying the only other person in these acres of land can hear me. “Help, please!”
After what seems like ages, and more inspection of my battered body…they show up.
“Jesus, what the hell happened?”
I try to recall. I was driving the machine…up and up and up the hill. Turn, a sharp turn. I took the turn wrong? Giant rock, avoidance. Fence post. Barbed wire. Fence Post. Barbed Wire.
What happened? What the fuck happened? Am I dreaming? I have to be dreaming because I can see my own body jumping off the faulty equiptment and getting tangled in the thorny wires. Did I? I shake my head, clearing the memory, vision.
“Let’s get you guys out of here. I can take you home.”
Home…”Home? We need a hospital. I’m bleeding and I’m cold.”
They shake their head. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
I’m attempting to walk, but the ground is spinning.
This is the moment, I think. This is the moment that will impact every other moment from here until forever.
It did. It still does.

-Turner