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.

Happy Mother's Day
to all you momma's.
Independent,
Strong,
Hard to find.
Knee deep in crumbs
On all fours sticking to the floors,
Still able to bench diapers
And my *******.
And to all their Momma's too.

All you new Momma's,
Soon to be Momma's,
To my boys baby Momma's.
All you Momma's full of drama.
Sensational Momma's,
Smoking hot Momma's.
Past Momma's,
Grand Momma's,
Earth Momma's,
Outta sight, space cadet Momma's.

You, time traveling Momma's .
You, hair dying chameleon;
Momma's.
You, extreme,
You, soul relief,
You, highly elite,
You, out of reality,
And in my dreams
Momma's. 
You heart deafening,
Eye crossing,
Hand numbing,
Cosmic beckoning.
Momma's.

To my sister; a new Momma,
To my older sister; seasoned Momma.
To my;
Step,
Bio,
Grand,
Adopted,
And future.

Thank you for being the message this man wouldn't of heard without you.

I want to apologize,
Ahead of time
for my, my,
My isolation

I'm certain you've heard it before
If I have to leave I must go
Don't judge me for my, my
My miscommunication

I'm not trying to bring you down with me
If I have to go, just let me leave

Don't want this to be so melancholy
I just want to be lost with nobody

Don't let me bring you down.
I just can't care anymore.

I been so carried up, with all these affairs,
all these stupid affairs
That don't fair with me

I can't complain about a predators trap
If I lazied in her hungry attack

But lately, please excuse me,
And the stomach aches
It's been acidlicy displeasing living as her bait

I'm just trying to make it all by myself
Without that woman, that lady, my mistakes

Don't let me bring you down.
I just can't care anymore

That woman came and get me
And then left my heart to break
I feel the pound gate closing
I feel the cage just the same
It must be so easy to let a man fade
Oh, I'll just hurt you just like that scarred day
Next time someone loves me
You'll be making all the mistakes

Don't let me bring you down
I can't care anymore.

Every child broken into a crayon box colours the same.

Jimmy and Bill would know.

The Knight time radio.
Their Daytime TV.

Technology gave us colour in our boxes for entertainment
And Two turn tables to scratch out the screaming.

55 inches in HD wasn't big enough to scribble on

Perfect reception but no one listened to the colours snap.

No one bothered to question why the paper is off the crayon.

I think of all those lost crayolas
being used for shadowing.

A cover inside a cover,
where pages should be in a book.

And here we are,
still drawing in black and white.