I watch actors make rules to love only to break and reshape when others enter stage.

How many walls to build to break?

4th
16th,
64?

Solar eclipse wore the chorus
like the string show,
that pulls on his connected joints to the plot.

Sandbags releasing more tension
than stent  
   to artery
       to a heart,
a BURST
               of emotion across this platform,
       rain into the audiences eyes in musical crimson cascade shards of glass for sentimental effects...

That plunger pulled precision ******
from the veins of the actor,
shamed to have said, "I love you", ever again.

Shame on the red spector , the actor and the writer. All shadow, casting doubt into what it means to relate,
to touch.

June 29th, 2017
It’s been 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
For 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
Count the acidic tree rings
Nearly 504;
Bright
A.m. eyes
On East Ferry,
in contrast of noir
I say, man;
June 29th, 2017.

It’s time to get a new calendar,
Cause I count 5,000 dollars later
and not a sense of a cent
was fined for my remorse.

I’ve been fine and fined.
Holes in my pockets
dropping seeds of change
planting fines

Into puddles
and potholes
showing deep interest
into the alignment of my car
stalling my engine with debts.

19,000 dollars and growing later;
I learned what trigger warnings cost
and ironically
I wrote a paper on it.

Don’t get me, wrong I am grateful
But, I had to rip holes
into all my jean pockets.
I mean, **** it,
I never had much going in
And I should quit smoking
My lighter is dead
Only blue and red
Sparks lived well in my mirrors
On, June 29th, 2017.


From the wall I was chained to,
I enrolled into college
My mom drove me home from my first class.
My lawyer wasn’t much of a lecturer,
He spoke math for 1,400 dollars

250 and 9 weeks.
106 a month for 52.

That’s enough math for this semester.

I drank with my night instructor on Mondays after 9,
He wanted to hear my music
We drank whiskey salted potholes on Allen
I counted his tree rings to 4/4 measure in regret;
20 years steady.

I graduated on a Tuesday morning,
I didn’t call him back to thank him for the irony.

I acknowledged our acidic rings
With glass cheered laughter
Swallowing thanks for each other’s company.
9 weeks and I don’t recall ever leaving the room.
43 went after,

And today life is that,
Paid for in lessons,
No need for pockets

I am those potholes
bumping coffee all over me
20 mins late to my first class.
I can repave them
but they won’t stay filled
It’s OK to want smoother roads to school.
I’m late but I’m here

I’m a mess.
******* would see art.
People have his eyes on me.
I want to be framed and splattered
on the walls of your home
A household mess .
It’s OK to have a passion.

Look into my tree rings
How old am I?
Its restorative to count
27 rings of rebirth
Look at me still growing
I believe I can grow in Paradise-lost fire
Or in Buffalo salt

I am my flaws
I counted them

My alcohol abuse,
One beat of 2,653 in 2017
I don’t know how to put an apology
On a music sheet.


The Jazz fills my potholes in the morning
before these hallways

My grey area is stained glass in Villas library,
Each step is eclectic
From shoe up and over is stand still art

Lighters flash cigarettes burning
But prints pictures of thankful new memories

With all of you in it.
Thank you for helping me with today’s date.

My depression is like being on fire and putting out the flames is hard cause it's like an oil fire where normal tactics don't work.

People will try and give me advice. "STOP. DROP. ROLL" Which in any fire situation is super helpful advice and I'm super thankful someone tried to help me out at all.

So I'm rolling around in flames now and nothing is happening to cease the anxiety. Literally I feel like it's getting worse the more I roll around on the ground with my peers still shouting out advice or better ways to roll.

Now some are so kind that they may roll around with me to show me how easily done it is to dismiss the feelings and 3rd degree burns but really it's a disaster.

A community of rollers find me and we chat online and share rolling techniques and controversies of fire related deaths, support systems and rallies to end our fires by government mandated fire extinguishers for everyone. The fire hurts less that day.

Weeks are going by and I'm here still on fire but now there is a heard of rolling people with me, rolling like potato bugs or how people roll playdoh. Whom inadvertently draw in more people and experts on fire to give advice and some kind enough to roll around as well but they aren't there just for me but because people see their loved ones on the ground rolling, so they assume they are on fire too. Which is great, please help us.

So now news sparks of awareness scortching the nation that people are on fire. So campaigns are established and wristbands with "STOP. DROP. ROLL." on them being sold. Celebrties rolling on TV, talking about their oil fires. Have weeks like, "People on fire Awareness week" and petitions for every American getting the divine chance to get their own fire extinguisher covered by an agreed medical plan.  Which then people who think the fire is a lie gain a voice, even when talking to people on fire. They claim false accusations and attention seeking from lazy rolling people. Also a small group  of nihilist emerge with the belief of letting the flames **** people. No one listens to the nihilist, thankfully.

This all creates this unique  debate of flaming people ethics between multiple sides. People rolling. People showing people how to roll. People debating on the technique of the roll. The people who want people to have fire extinguishers provided by the government. Those who disagree with the concept of fire and then those who don't have an opinion or want the world to burn. Yet still even with all the coverage, attention and debate people a still on fire and no one is bothering to ask how.

So back to me still hot with embers but not feeling so warm. Dissociate deeper with bubbled skin but come to it enough to address my problem even though I am discouraged by all the attention people on fire have been getting and internally debating on if I am burning that bad.

I live with burn marks and scars but i dream of one day having the ability and strength, to jump into a body of water and cool off with steam blistering off my skin and smile back at those who roll and say "I'm fine and you can be too."

All I ever need is time and a cool place to ease my flames.

In an epidemic of black eyes
Cyclops people lose.

                                          A right
of passage into womanhood is

a HANDS ON
approach.

                                           A right
hook with a bow tie in the
        
                Vmiddle Knuckle.

  L
      O
   V
  E

From index to pinky
And all over her body.

Seeing this from one eye
Is the luck of having two.

"Thank you.", I say.

With half my mouth in silence
As muted screams escape the smothering hand that says LOVE.

We Shepard children,
we raise them on farms.
When it's time to ask them for identity, they form into clouds.

How can we ask them to identify self in an overcast?
Can you see an adult when they experience rain?

I see children in coats holding hands, Staying in line.

I see the Shepard staff,
Still at large.

Automated to wind by reaction.
Punishable and feared.

Straight line children
Along the fence

Straight line children
Group project: independence.