my childhood,
beautifully messy.
living out the nineties
making pre-internet memories

i remember running around
in mismatched clothes
d.i.r.t.y bare feet
no mobile phone
so my eyes were on the sky
my eyes were on the grass, so green
my eyes were looking into yours
not on a vapid screen  

i remember daddy
bringing our first modem home
i entered my first chat room
at nine years old
believe it or not
i remember the chat feed
being considerably clean
the only time it ever would be
in online history

my childhood,
beautifully messy.
i made so many innocent
pre-internet memories

i remember 5 channels on my tv
i was lucky if i got to watch one movie a week
i don't remember feeling that i had less than what i need
i don't remember feeling as though i had to change me

i remember hating bath time
now i can't get myself clean
no matter how many products that i scrub myself with

i remember backyard performances
my sister was director
i could put on any mask i wanted
i was somebody else for just a moment

i remember a girl from high school
inviting me to join Facebook
if i could go back to that day
i would run far away from her

never did i think, it would become what it is
never did i think, i would become an addict

when i entered that chatroom
back in 99'
i wish i had saved those conversations
proof that it was once benign

my childhood,
beautifully messy.
i made so many innocent
pre-internet memories

I want you to be my brother
The brother that I knew when I met you

I want to reclaim the safety
That naturally enveloped me

I want you to be the brother
The one that I could trust like no other

I've been painfully missing my brother
The brother that you used to be

The problem is that you don't miss your sister
You do not miss me

peace, she wrote on the wall of the house
the one wall that remained standing
scared to death, she wrote the only word that she dared to dream
peace, a mythical concept
a fictional character
rare and unfamiliar
she wrote on the wall and kept her peace alive
when the bombs rained down, she left this world smiling

we can talk about beauty if you want
we can talk about the beauty that's constantly enforced
we can talk about fashion magazines
fake eyelashes
gucci sunglasses
tiaras
sashes
homecoming queens

we can talk about beauty if you want
we can talk about the beauty that is slowly dying out
my beauty is a little bit different
it is not found in measurements
my beauty is the sunset over the coast line
the crinkles on her mouth formed by a natural smile
my beauty is a man who doesn't ask for *** but holds my hand
accepting me for who i am

we can talk about beauty if you want
it just depends what beauty you are thinking of
we can talk about beauty for sure
but are we talking about my beauty or yours?

I picked her from the garden of Eden
My sweet forbidden rose
The petals of her thighs are a gift that only women have known
I plucked her from the rose bush and felt a pain in my side
A thorn had pierced me deeply and I began to cry
I was destined to be connected to the thorn for life
When sweet forbidden roses were my true desire
I dropped her in the garden of Eden
Along with my hopes and dreams
Now the wound in my side is my constant reminder
Of what could have been