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Prose poem:
Blue Baby Love
 Swelling, growing. Always throwing up and still looking like a balloon. Judging eyes are following me. Back pain. It hurts. A penguin walking on the street. Regretting the choice, regretting the pain. Regretting the sweet sacred seconds of pleasure. But it has fingernails. You can’t kill something that got fingernails. A flood is pouring out. The Niagara between two legs. Is that possible? Pain. Fear. Will those fingernails claw their way out. Screaming. Who is screaming? Skin slowly ripping apart, skin that is too tight. Pain, fear. Emptiness; two arms taking something from me.
 “Do you wanna see?” The thief said.
Blue beautiful eyes, staring in to my soul. The warmth is taken away as they disappear. Too exhausted to fight a battle that is already lost.
 Will I ever see you again?

Image poem:

Panic
I am the rocking chair, swinging
 back and forth.
Reluctant movements making the wood squeak, jet necessary
If I stop my
heart will stop.

I am the turtle, hiding
 in my shell.
Pulling limbs together out of reach, a small shape safe in a hard shell
 must be seen by
no one.

I am the mouse, panting
hunted scared.
 Beating heart, panting breath, a body prepared to escape
 a mind too trapped
 to run.

 I am the lake, the eye of the forest
staring forth.
A blank eye never moving jet always staring
blinded with tears
 I see nothing.

I am calm -
 panicking.