The rose sits
The rose waits
The rose does not talk
The rose does not walk
The rose hangs down
The rose keeps a frown
The rose is permanently stuck
The rose is consequently plucked
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 10:09 AM UTC
the code red alarm rings
echoing in the halls
we drop to the floor
almost in unison
is this the end?
the teacher
the one who we trust
to protect us
is just another sheep
in this herd
of fear
nobody is safe
nor are we above
anyone else
we are equal
we are shaking
as we hug the ground
waiting
waiting
to be slain
waiting to be saved
but still
waiting
i am lucky to say
it was only a drill
but for those
across the country
they weren't that lucky
they were shot at
they were killed
they watched
their loved ones
die
we live in a country
where guns
matter more than
our kids
where an AR-15
can be purchased
by anyone
but when tragedy strikes
people act shocked
they send their prayers
their thoughts
**** that.
prayers and thoughts
don't do anything
they don't bring back
those we have lost
they don't take
the grief away from us
things won't change
until we start a riot
until we can really make a change
we are the home
of mass shootings
we need to change that
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC
after his lips
brazed mine, i understood what
churches meant to saints;
death and rebirth and homecoming and
ease. the artistry of our
flesh meeting flesh,
gentle grassroot heartbeats finding
heaven in the moles on our shoulders, our
inner thighs. he hums a hymn of becoming and i
join the chorus: a
kingdom of quiet wednesdays and
leaving forget-me-nots on my pillowcase to bloom.
murmurous, he sweetens my melancholy; our
naked bodies left bare to the seasons,
over and over again, unafraid. i
part my gracious fingers and
quilt for him a makeshift
rosebush beneath blue eyes and
summery glances. our
testimony is this:
underneath july starlight,
victory is found in the
warmth of our
xanthic chapel; a
yearlong love story left
zen in our delicate rapture
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 1:40 PM UTC
I am jealous of spiders
Those small, poisonous creatures
They don't care how small they are
Or how weak they are
They fight for their life despite the conditions
They hunt their prey without hesitation
Without pity
Without fear
They can enter any room
They don't need your permission
They all know their purpose
They all fight for their purpose
They catch or become food
They can create their world however they want
No one tells them how to connect their strings
They are clever
That's what makes them deadly
They are small
That's what extends their limits
They are selfish
That's what helps them survive
Their tiny-dark eyes
Those small marbles that extend their vision to places the human eye could never reach
Their infestation of twisted legs
Those agile limbs that move them with surprising speed and balance through any kind of frictional surface
They exist in every corner
Creep through every opening
They could crawl up your skin,
Plant their deadly kiss under the tissues of your outer layers,
Leading you to an agonizing swell of chemicals that tare and torture your nerves and muscles
The aftereffects are as countless as the number of their species
Pain
Nausea
Headics
Paralysis
And if you are lucky enough,
Death
You could have one of these
You could have all of these
They don't care
They are spiders,
And for them
You are a their predator
And their next victim
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 12:52 AM UTC
life is a success
there are mistakes that make opportunities
and opportunities that makes mistakes
there are sad moments that are followed happiness
but don't take it to far because you can make a mess
don't stress
Life is a success
life is like a beautiful dress
it's a fancy purple vest
So create your life as good as you can like a nest
be good and the best
life is not a game
it is a dangerous test
don't be that person that tries to be the same
as other people, they even change your name
That is not how you get to the hall of fame
You are perfect with your unique frame
You're a success
If you ignore what other people think of you,
you are unique
and that is the best thing that you can be
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
I detest when people ask: are you OK?
It gets even worse when it proceeds to: what's going on?
I avoid the answer to these questions, for their answer is neither clear nor joyful.
I wish they would never ask
I wish they would just stay quiet
They think they know what I have
They think they know what I need
I don't need their attention
I don't want their attention
I Just want to be in an empty room...
Where the only sound is the echo of my thoughts...
And I don't have to talk...
Or think...
Or move...
But they come back....
They pressure...
They stare....
They judge.....
I want them to leave.
I don't want them to wonder about me.
Leave
Leave me alone.
Stop torturing me.
Only then can I torture myself
.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC