I had a week of bliss, surrounded by love and friendship;
Diversity in color, sexuality, and creed.  
The 'oh-my-God-I'm-gonna-die' turbulence on the flight home,
[Which the pilot coyly called "rough air"],
Was nothing compared to the avalanche of awful I hit after exiting the ramp.
Slammed into the tarmac, engulfed in hate.
My eyes wide open to the bigotry and sin.
[I say sin, not because I believe in it, but because they do.]
Here are my eyes, slammed wide open,
Reading article after article on Charlottesville.
Begging, waiting, for the President to make a stand,
To give us some hope,
To unequivocally denounce white supremacy,
To show some compassion,
To say Heather Heyer's name,
To demonstrate to the world what human decency is.
...I keep waiting.

This was not about partisan politics.
This was not about 'right' or 'left'--
This is about right and wrong.

This is not about partisan politics.
Hate transcends politics.
This was not a chance to pander to or pacify voters.
This was a grim opportunity to be truly presidential in a time of great need.

A person should never experience such radical hatred
for being born the way they were born--
Exactly the way your God made them.

Freedom of speech and expression was not created for the benefit of Neo-****'s.
It was created to liberate Americans, not oppress them.
You cannot [ab]use it as a shield to mask your abhorrent agenda.
You cannot randomly yell “FIRE!” in a crowded theater that is not, in fact, on fire;
Nor can you create a fire on a stick then run through a crowd, spouting off your beliefs.

Here are my eyes, slammed wide open
And all I wanted to do was to shut them,
To go back to my bubble of bliss.
But I cannot.
We cannot.
That is exactly what gives hate and ignorance the permission to spread like wildfire.
The lovers need to keep loving.
We need to keep speaking out against violence for violence's sake;
Against oppression of an entire race, simply because of melanin;
Against discrimination of the "different";
Against the ideal of "the perfect race";
Against the idle tolerance of these obscene, disgusting ‘ideals’.
We need to keep speaking out against "taking back our country"--
We are living on stolen soil.
We are all visitors here.

Where did your ancestors come from, sir, wielding the fiery torch?
This land is not yours.
It is not mine.
It is ours--
All of ours, together.

sitting here but not
my insides
       in a twist
my organs blooming,
their flower landscapes
rising in my solar plexus
like poetry expanding
its cellular shapes
into
        light frequencies
I need way more.
I need the pulling off
      and stripping down
of souls
I need to meet in
a depth of falling
I need to be pushed off
the silent gates of madness
into endless sea
no looking back
senses piqued
from slightest brush
of oral butter pouring
on hot cream
my mouth, a searing
crimson wound
oscillates in
contraction radar pulses
ripe for intense
tongue exploration
         aching to be filled up with
your distinct flavor
My essence molecular is
overflowing with fluid
giving me life
in throbbing, raw
electric vibes
whipped organic, in
                 rolling tides
Somewhere, out there
                  our volcanic impulses
                          meet in steamy ebbs
                     and send energyflow
to a new and ancient universe,
magnetic
and I am
a raging heaven's child
      wrapped in
           a tight little
              tourniquet
     blood pumping
through these veins
             my longing for
                 dark stretches
   of intimate caresses
to soothe
  the spikes
      of snaking pain
Give me
those airwaves that
let me breathe freedom
into the fields of our skin
Let me run like wild herds
of the animal within

and as I find myself
hanging off
my
      own
  edges
my many-braided loops
         in zigzag split,
a-fray
my skin rips open,
parting fibers
that expose my
very
      DNA
helix swivel
     undulation
hips grinding into
                     soul
reaching in to
pull out
fresh rebirth
from between my folds
O help me to allay
this tender affliction
undo me, already
so I lose control
one little shove
and I am over the cliff
deep into ocean
**** over spliff
I am beyond ready
so grind it to the hilt
Give me your
tender-ripped heart,
spill your honeycomb milk

I am here, ravenous
in the pan
uncooked yet ripe
saliva and breath
steaming my own innards
flushing out strife
I am piquant hot pepper
ready to be broiled
my blood is already
                             boiling
my tender meat oiled
mull me over
in your oral cavity
like sacred wine
until I drip
through your bones
and down your spine
Just meld with me
                        and flow
into that light tunnel
of dark time and space
so I can stake out
my rhythms
and claim
      my
new
sacred
      place

Games People Play

The games they play are so real to them
It's a shame dreams fade & go suddenly dim
No matter how long they try to pretend
Sooner or later it comes to an end

It doesn't seem to matter of ones religion or race
It's the same the world over, so hard to face
They just go on thinking there's more to be found
How do we make our youth aware of the truth

My wife doesn't love me, my husband is mean
They still believe the other side is green
Remembering parents unhappy & bored
There must be an answer if we search our minds

Maybe God figured it out and made it this way
So the greatest love he gave to us all
Is love for all mankind that never would stray.

I always thought it was brave of Wendy,  to love a boy who refused to grow. To get caught up in his wonderlust, to fly and mock the crow.

She let him sweep her off her feet, with dust that shined so bright. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and they fled into the night.

Love is a curse in Neverland, unbroken by gypsy magic of old. Peter has a reputation though, tales among the campfire told.

The crocodile turned its clock back, to synchronize with Wendy's furious cries. The lost boys lined up with tissues, to sob their last goodbyes.

Maybe Wendy fell apart when she returned home, emotion finally giving to tears. Only in dreams will she remember him now, as her Neverland disappears.

Too many questions fill my mind
Too many answers seek to find
What will be known
What won't reveal
What is truth
What am I to feel?

Kneeling down
        Speaking to God
        His black eyes scream forgiveness
        The sound gives me goosebumps

    You see
                  I've done things most would consider a bit unusual
  But I've always deserved it
     A razorblade horizontally drug across my lips reminded me to never talk back
     Embedding shards of glass in my legs one by one reminded me to never run away from my problems
              
            After everyone died there were questions I could never say the real answer to
          
        You were there to hear the truth, always were
        Beside me, behind me, beneath me
    You never loved me enough to be inside, but it was ok because your mystique kept me inebriated

    The questions never stopped the rooms got smaller and I had to run
       I had to leave. You came with me

    I hated myself for not staying. And when the pieces of glass weren't enough, I understood I deserved a worse punishment, I lit a cigarette and started my trusty chainsaw
   And after I was finished even you shrunk away from me, my flat friend made of blackness where did you go?

       Now all I have is God.
He listens okay, but he's not like you. With my decimated body leaning against my bed, I look into his two deep dark hollow eyes, I bring his eyes closer, into my mouth, and finally he talks back. He says *bang

i acted cool.
You know, like how they do it on TV.

27 floors up,
your door was unlocked.

i didn't take my shoes off,
that way you could see the bad *** i really am,
deep down.

You know, you told me you loved me.
That's why I came.
i believed you.

Oh, how naive of you, i think back now.

I sat on your beat-down chair,
while you sprawled out on the floor-level couch.

I was terrified,
but the kids on TV are never scared.

He said he loved you.
No one else has ever felt that way before.
He loves you, kid.
You can do it.

Come cuddle on the couch?
Meh, maybe if i feel like it later.

Play. It. Cool.

i slide unto the foot of your ***-stained sofa.
i can feel your feet shaking behind my back,
your toes teasing my sides,
poking in and out between my ribs.

i know what you want,
and i want it too.

Keep. It. Cool. Kid. Keep it Cool.

i feel my hands slip out of your tight grasp,
my fingers inching their way up your leg,
following the dips of your pelvic bone.

What is happening?

The taste of you is so foreign to me.
i've never known the sweetness of another human being.

Let's go to your room?

Kid, it's just like on TV.

Okay, yeah, i guess if you really want to.

i didn't want to take my clothes off.

The world was spinning,
i was seeing and feeling things i didn't know to exist.

What is happening?

i love you.
i love you, i love you.

it's all over,
i leave.
27 floors of shame.

not only don't you love me,

you don't talk to me.

you had me in large chunks
and at some points, you had me whole
i had you in crumbs
and at some points, i had you in pieces and it wasn't fair
that's part of why i had to run away
you knew me too well and all i knew of you were the tiny, sad parts
but eventually i realized that she probably knew these parts, too
and i didn't feel like i knew you at all anymore
and still, i wonder
do they know what i know?
do they know about the bullets you held so close to your skull?
or about the xanax you would lay on your tongue when the sky was starry and your blankets were wrapped around your shaking body?
or about how you are so scared of people being behind you that you shake like a puppy and sweat beads up on your freckled neck?
does she know that?
will she?