Waste my time.
Distract me from the pain of other earthly things.

Raise my Hope from the dead.
Give it mouth to mouth,
Sloppily,
Spit-flying,
And So *****.

Inflate its lungs.
Out & in, in & out.
Bruise its lips.

We all are just Living to die.
Right?

Take me to church--
Show me God, boy.
Bring me to my knees,
Make me sing his praises.

Shed your tears on my bare back while we break classroom desks apart.
Piece by piece,
You use me.
You shape me,
And Create me into yours.

Make me wear skirts with stockings.
Make me play nice.
Make me smile.
You know you want to.

Make me wear fishnets.
Make me tease you.
Make me want to please you.
I know I want to.

Let's play dress up for the night.
Let's Spider-Man climb the walls of our insecurities and broken hearts.
Let's bite each others shoulders,
Don't you wanna get primal with me?

Tell me I'm pretty.
Say it,
Say it,
Say it.
Be good and I'll reward you.
Be bad and I'll ignore you.

Make me feel all nasty.
Make me feel so graceful.
Make me feel so perfect.

Pedestal perfect.
Pedestal perfect.
Pedestal perfect.
Let's just pray I don't fall.

Shackled, and chained.
Yet,
I’ve never felt so free.
You’ve awakened this primal instinct in me.

Burned, and bruised.
Tormented, and used.
I'm yours to abuse.

I kneel,
At your feet,
Waiting for command.
Waiting for the slightest gesture granted from your hand.

I look down.
My hands in lap.
l am at your will,
Waiting for your finger’s snap.

With hair pulled back--
Gathered in your hands.

And cheeks warm--
Caressed by your voice.

Lips are wet--
Touched by yours.

Cleaning, and cooking.
Almost every day.
Folding, and preparing.
Doing whatever you say.

I'm yours;
I'm branded with your name.
I'm bonded to you,
No matter what,
And I stand unashamed.

I touched myself to the thought of you last night.
And, God,
It felt so ******* good.

The thought of you above me,
Hand around my throat,
With your teeth clashing into mine.

It felt so *****.

Our spit and other ****** fluids mixing and creating the chemical reaction for love.

I could hear your voice edging me on.
‘Go faster, you ****.’,
‘I know you want me to make a mess of your innocence.’,
I can still hear the echoes of the filthy and twisted fantasies we have.

My fingers spin the most intricate and intense shapes over and over again.
In hopes of merely grazing the ******.

I can feel you,
Pulling my hair,
Digging your nails into me,
And slapping me senseless.

Everyone must think we’re sick—
But I don’t care.

I need you,
I need to ***,
I need you like never before.

If this is the image of true love,
Me with my hand down my *******,
Head thrown back,
Back arched,
And sputtering gasps of “Yes, Sir.”

Then this is a fairytale.

Growing wetter and wetter,
I’m soaking through my moans of pleasure.
Closer and closer,
I’ve almost reached the end.

With a happily ever after
You growl into me animalistically.
You spread me open to lap up each and every last drop.
You look at me—
You smile.

“Who’s a good girl?.”

When specks of ash float on the breath of the last great tree,
When the heat Scorches the final blade of grass to dust,
When the sun dares to rise again,
We will prevail.

When the ocean’s great white waves blow back black,
When the last leaf sways down to its final resting place,
When the clouds seem to always cry,
We will rise.

When the breeze whispers it's melodious secrets,
When the earth stops beating the drum of its heart,
When the water’s legato rhythm becomes jagged,
When the fire eats up everything that is left,
We will feast.

We will devour the last of mankind.
We will peel skin,
We will pick nails,
We will lick the very fingers that once fed us.

Unforgiving,
We take the young.

Heartless,
We watch them burn.

Happily,
We yearn for more.

In the end,
I rise to take my throne.
Stepping on empty skulls,
Snapping, cracking, and
Creaking to sit upon the empty wasteland of bones.

I smile,
Sitting back to admire my creation.
The birth of something new.
A perfect melody built just for you,
And this time, you better sing.

God made a masterpiece,
God made a masterpiece,
God made a masterpiece when he made me.

I don't need your watermark,
Or your method of strokes.
I've got it all.

I don't need honey pastels to drip down me,
I'm already twice as sweet.

I don't need diamonds to coat my neck,
I already shine as bright as the stars.

I don't need a crown upon my head,
I already know my worth.

I am the daughter of a king.

I've got angel wings buried in my shoulder blades.
I've got halos hidden in my hair.
God made me perfect.

Don't you dare try to color me in,
Don't you dare try to rearrange my pieces,
Because God made a woman out of me.

I've got grace,
Beauty, and
A word filled tongue.
What more can I need?

I've got lavender lily hips,
I've got rose bud budding lips,
I've got a thorn-filled heart as well.
What else can I be blessed with?

Woman is beautiful,
God gave me beauty.

Woman is smart,
God gave me brains.

Woman is strong,
God gave me bravery.

He made me vivacious,
Curvy, curly,
And passionate.

God gave me everything,
Why would I need you?

He made me a Woman.
He made me a masterpiece.
So, why change that?

The water droplets on your back glisten like diamonds.
How can I not want you?
Your hair is slicked back with shampoo lathered in your dark waves.
How can I not desire you?
You ever so carefully take the soap and cascade it down your arms and legs.
What could be better than this?
You look at me,
Standing under the water,
With my curls falling down on my shoulders.
You touch my cheek, ever so gently, and
You smile.
What could ever compare to this moment?
You pull me closer to you;
You wrap your arms around me.
Just you and I, under the hot water, with steam clouding in the air. (With the occasional bubble)
***** as ever,
And still, I have never felt so clean.

My eyes close gently
Like butterflies finding peace.

My breathing is soft
Like the winds that move music.

On my back,
Covered with duvet,
I come alive.

Don’t you hear it?
The call to an ancient rhythm?

I start to dance.

My eyes clench shut
Like doors to an argument.

My breathing picks up pace
Like the smoke of heat in winter.

On my back,
Covered with sweat,
I come alive.

The dance begins:
It starts at my toes.

Clenching, curling,
Pirouette Princess.

Moves up my thighs,
Shaking, sliding,
Shimmy salsa.

My hands join in,
They create foreign mundras.

Massaging circles into soft flowers.
I’m blooming all over again.

The rhythm picks up pace,
The drum beats vibrations into my existence.

The process repeats,
Pirouette toes,
Salsa thighs,
And flowers blooming from fingertips.

Faster,
This time,
Faster.

My eyelids play movies I’ve never seen,
My breath hitches in my throat,
I’m coming alive.

Suddenly,
I feel everything all at once.

My head starts to spin,
The good kind of dizzy.

On my back,
Lifting up,
Soul leaving body in unspoken essence,
I’m coming undone.

In a estranged voice I’ve never known,
Your name leaves my parted lips.

The music stops,
The dance is complete,
And the petals wilt.

Fingertips sticky with nectar.
Or is it pollen?

Doesn’t matter—
It still tastes sweet.

You confuse karate with love.
You punch, kick, and block.
You master the form,
Practice and practice.
You remember the creed.
Karate is not love.
You don’t kickstart the heart,
You can’t block love out,
Or punch it into submission.

I confuse love with poetry.
I read, write, and dream.
I master the edict of the pen,
Recite and recite.
I remember the sonnets.
Poetry is not love.
You don’t stanza the heart,
You can’t make a metaphor out of love,
Or personify it into breathing.

When will we learn?
When will you stop kicking Cupid?
When will I stop serenading him?
When will we stop this silly interpretation of love?

I don’t know,
But I’ll stop if you stop too.

Break up with your girlfriend,
Shatter her heart in two.
Make her cry every night,
Make her hurt over you.

Leave her today,
Tonight, or the ‘morrow.
Abandon her and leave her laden in sorrow

Make her drown in her tears,
Make her shake with her cries,
Break her, break her,
Break her down with your lies.

Come back to me,
I can love you forever.
Come back to me,
And we’ll be together.

One kiss,
One kiss,
Is all I ask.

To honor the present and remember the past.

One kiss will do no harm,
Where’s the shame in that?
Kiss me once and maybe the memories will flood back.

Break up with your girlfriend,
Leave her for me.
Make her feel so worthless,
All while we feel so free.

You know you want to.
Don’t deny yourself this.
Break up with your girlfriend,
Break her with one kiss.

Make her never forget.
Make her never lose sight.
That love is sadistic,
And so are we, right?

If I call, will you decline it?
If I text, will you read it?
If I love you, will you ignore it?

U disappeared off the face of the earth, and I’m going to be sick.
All because I’ve banished u,
But still I feel so sick.

Delete and then block,
Delete and then block,
& delete and then block.
The same cycle for all my social media accounts…
Except for about 3.

I left those open incase you want to come back.
Add and then friend,
Add and then friend,
& add and then friend.

That was a mistake.

Yes, I saw the new new.
That girl smiling brightly.
That girl taunting me,
“Na Nana boo boo, you can’t have him!”

Well.
That’s when I started to feel sick.

Well,
That’s when I texted u.

Well,
That’s when I broke all self control and discipline.

And well,
Here we are.

I’m sick of calling,
Sick of texting,
Sick of feeling,
And I’m sick of you.
#Sick

I am poetry.
My back is the spine.
My arms turn into the cover.
My fingers smooth into pages.
The prints printed on my thumbs bleed words.

I am a poem,
Every single part of me.
I am all the thoughts the human race has ever had.
I am the mother, I am the dad.

When you want a piece of poetry to feed your mind—
I'll peel the layers off my thumb, ‘til they form sentences,
I'll bend my fingers back, back until they turn into stanzas,
I'll snap my arms crooked, ‘til they cry out titles,
I'll arch my back, and screech as they brand me with the name of my owner.

I am a haiku.
The original OG.
You can't handle me.

I am a sonnet,
Betrothed to Shakespeare.
Like a kid learning his alphabet, and he gets stuck on G:
AB(AB)-CD(CD)-EF(EF)-GG.
My couplets are more star-crossed than Romeo and Juliet could ever be.

I am T.S Eliot here to sing you love songs—
Don’t you cast me to The Waste Land.

I am Maya Angelou ‘bout to free the bird from its cage—
And still I rise.

I am Emily Dickinson finally stopping for death—
You can’t **** me.

I am living, breathing poetry.
My veins bleed poetry—fear this blood.
My eyes cry poetry—see these words.
My shampoo brand is poetry—feel these curls.

Rise,
Stand,
And take up the pen.
Poetry is our oxygen.
Let us all breathe it in.

Our words will save this nation.
From a simple sentence to a conversation.

We are poetry.
We will save the world.

You are poetry.
You can change the world.

I am poetry.
Use me to save this world!

And when I finally die,
I'll be reincarnated into a tree.
I'll be turned into pages for the next poets to use.
And when they do—
    
I'll be free.

It’s 3 am and I’m writing poetry.
Not my usual go to love poem though.
(I promised multiple people I wouldn’t write anymore about that one person)
(You know that one guy.)
I’m writing poetry at 3 am.
(Not love poetry,)
Just poetry poetry.

I can’t write anymore poems about (missing) you,
(Wanting you,)( or even still loving you.)
(Yes, I remember my promise.)

So, I’ll write this—
My 3 am poem.

My poetry comes alive in the nighttime.
(Or should I say unreasonable hours of the day when I really should be asleep, but I think I might have borderline insomnia.)

My mind runs at a million miles per hour,
I think of everything at once.
Metaphors, onomatopoeia, and allusions.
And you know me,
I just can’t resist the perfect stanza.

I become fixated on it.
I tell myself no,
No, no, no,
You need to sleep.

But here I am,
Writing, writing, writing.

And guess what?
I even write in my sleep.
My dreams create prose better than I ever could.

It’s a tragedy that I’m sure even Shakespeare was a victim of.

Writers don’t sleep,
Poets don’t sleep,
No one does.

Or else everything falls apart.

You forget how commas work,
You forget how to spell the word ‘Apricot’,
And you forget the meaning of it all.

You forget the reason for writing,
You forget the passion of spoken word.

The only sleep that a poet will ever receive is when they are truly immortalized in their work.

And as you can see,
That is not happening anytime soon for me.

So, I’ll stay up every night.
Trying to remember the meaning of oxymoron,
With the word eulogy on the tip of my tongue.

You’ll never understand me,
And that’s alright.

Other poets will never understand me,
And that’s just fine.

All we’ll ever understand about each other is that words don’t sleep,
And it seems that neither will we.

(-The Poetic Insomniacs, 3:12 am)

You light me aflame with passion so bright.
You draw me close with your hypnotic trance.
In your warm embrace, everything feels right.
When it's us two, together, our hearts dance.

We slowly forget all we've known before.
The heat of the night makes us moan and melt.
Our lips, and lungs gasp for air; beg for more.
Unmatched to anything we've ever felt.

You. My soul's Master, taker of my sin.
Me. The light of your life, fire of your *****.
You explore every inch of my hot skin.
I'm yours to feast upon, yours to enjoin.

Nothing will ever extinguish our fire.
Our passion grows; and so will desire.

Dad,

Did you really mean the things you said to me? That one night.
Did you really mean to disown me at birth? That one afternoon.
Did you really mean to hurt me and the woman I love? That one day.

Before birth, dad, I learned love through closed fists.
I learned love through the smell of bourbon and the taste of whatever drugs were on your tongue that night.
I learned love through abandonment.

At the age of three months, I was naive.
I thought love was shown in the shapes of bruises.
I thought love was left in the burn marks.
I thought love was embedded into broken ribs.

I thought sleeping pills made you fly.
That’s why I cried for mama to take me with her.

At the age of seven, I was naive.
I believed you loved me.
I believed that I was the subject of every waking ballad you’d sing to me.
I believed that your rough hands rubbing lotion on me was out of love not pure obligation.

At the age of nine, I was naive.
I trusted your words.
I trusted your vows.
I trusted everything you’d say.
Yet, you never showed up.

But even love can’t make room in busy.

At the age of eleven, I was naive.
I waited for you.
I longed for you.
And some nights,
I cried for you.

But distance makes screams seem quieter than they seem.

At the age of thirteen, I was naive.
I needed you.
That year I tried to fly like mama.

No one cried for me.

At the age of sixteen, I was naive.
I was cutting the thought of you out of me.
I was cutting the half of me that belonged to you.
I bled out the portion that reminded me of you.

Dad, I’m scared.
I’m terrified that I forgot a piece of you.
That inside me, somewhere, is a part of you growing.

I don’t want to hurt the ones I love.
I don’t want to ruin everything I love.
I don’t want to make anyone feel the way you made me feel.

I fear that I'll grow up to be you.
Ruthless, mysterious, alone, aggressive,
And a coward.

But
At the age of 18, I wasn’t naive.
I pushed you away.
I cut all ties.
I disowned you this time.

At the age of 18.
You created sons,
You created a family.
The one you always wanted一
You finally found the true meaning of love.

Your youngest daughter,
Marrianna.

I touch your chest.
Scraping your skin off with my fingernails,
Layer by layer.
Meticulously.

I reach in.
Slowly snapping the bones back,
Rib by rib.

I watch you breathe.

This is the part I love,
Feeling your heartbeat.
It keeps perfect time.
The blood gushing, it's poetic even.

I take my finger, slightly pressed to the beat.
You're gorgeous like this.
Under the smallest push of my finger.

This won't be clean.
I wrap my hand around the source of it all.
I twist, tug, and pull.    You love it.

I take you in the palm of my hand.
Still beating, still vibrant, so beautiful.

I bring you to my lips, and I kiss you one last time.
I swear I can taste you in between my teeth, raw still.
And this time you stain my lips red.

Have you ever washed the blood of another off of yourself?

Standing under the shower’s rain,
Rinsing, and scrubbing the blood off your face and arms.
Staining the tile where you stand;
Swirling hypnotically down the drain.

I shot you;
I’m the reason you’re dead,
And the splatter of blood across my face proves it.

The gunpowder is still under my nails,
Black as ever as if I scratched my way out of my own coffin into yours.
I’m still coughing up dirt, I swear.

I stabbed you;
I’m the reason you won’t wake up.

The blade glimmered as I twisted it into you so fluidly.  
I was afraid to pull it out,
Afraid that a piece of myself was embedded in you too.
The dagger is a shade of red and brown as if you were ***** just like me.

I killed you!
Can’t you see? You can’t.
But, I believe, no, I know you feel it somewhere.
Somehow.

This water isn’t hot enough.
It’s not scalding enough to burn the feeling of you off of me.
But the blood,
Oh, the blood.
A never ending crimson sea, a deep bleeding river of you, slowly, but surely, disappearing from existence.

I run a bath,
The shower wasn’t enough.

I’m still stained.
I’m still tainted,
I’m still bleeding into someone who isn’t me.

The water swishes as I settle in.
Back and forth, up and down,
Over and under the sides of the tub.

The water won’t stop turning red,
A deep red.

A reminder that I killed you,
That I shot you,
That I stabbed you.
That I don’t regret it,

But regret isn’t guilt.
Is it?

It’s ******.

Call me obsessive,
I’m just a passionate lover.

I lay awake at night,
I look at the ceiling thinking of you.
Sometimes I never sleep.

I’m not obsessive,
Just in passionate love.

I stay in bed all day,
I close my eyes dreaming of you.
Sometimes I never wanna wake up.

I still have your clothes,
Some never washed.
I put them on and pretend I’m you.

I sit in front of the mirror,
I touch myself as you.

Call me obsessive,
I’m just your passionate lover.

I take hot showers.
I let the water cascade over me with eyes open
So I see the shape of you.

You stand in the shower with me,
Hair wet, and bright blue eyes that come alive.

I let the air cloud,
I let the windows fog.
I suffocate myself to hallucinate you.

Not obsessive,
Just passion filled.

I just want to love you,
I just want to hold you.
I want to wear your skin,
Feel you hot and fleshy around me.

I lay on the ground where you’ve walked,
I touch the areas you used to inhabit.
I still feel you here, I still feel you there.

I want to be hurt by you again,
I want to be bawling and weeping in love with you.

You’re obsessed,
I’m simply passion based.

You can’t hate me for that.

I want to be you,
I want to have you,
I want to be loved by you.

I’m obsessed,
Borderline obsessed.

And completely passionate.
About you.

In my darkest dreams,
You lie there.
Awaiting me in dark hues of purples transforming into mist.

You smile, half-lipped in such a devilish way.
It leaves me in thrill.

You growl,
A low animalistic cry that you’ve kept prisoner for so long.

You howl.
As if I am your lunar eclipse,
And you have to have me before dawn.

In my deepest dreams,
You wait there.
Lying in dark hues of reds transforming into mist.

You reach for me;
Arms outstretched in a silent desperate plea.
I always comply.

We push and pull,
We Grapple into a tangled mess of filth and shame.

The air hangs heavy in a dark dream like this.

I awake,
Sweat on my brow,
And my mouth in a shape that can only say your name.

I claw at my skin,
The blood seeps out,
And it feels good.

I claw at my arms,
The blood creeps out,
And it feels sweet.

I claw at my chest,
The heart beats out,
And it feels alive.

The blood seems to wash away the pain.
The blood seems to leave a different stain.

I long to feel.
I want to feel.

Not sadness,
Not happiness,
Just feel.

The torn skin understands me.
The broken heart listens to me.
The blood is there for me.

And it feels beautiful.

It feels destined:
My pain and I.
The blood mixed with the tears I cry.

It's love at first sight,
That first draw of blood.
The skin under my nails,
The blissful feeling of release.

Only you can make me feel like this,
And I love it.

To be in love with a man in *******--
Is to shatter your heart a thousand times.
For my love is held in her fondness.
What will become of us and our love crimes?

Are we ungodly with no virtue left?
Have we no soul left in our mortal shells?
Have we lost our halos or was it theft?
Will we ever hear heaven’s freedom bells?

You are bound, tied by hand, and feet to her.
You are held captive by left hand and ring.
You are covered in love, you reek of myrrh.
For her, you will sing, to me, you will cling.

How can one so faithful fail another?
If not me, nor her, then who? My lover.

Boy.
You are atrocious;
You are belligerent.
You cocky thing.
You disgust me.

Boy.
You are revolting;
You are untrustworthy.
You are not deserving of my time.
You are worthless.

Don't you dare come back to me.
I won't let you in.
Don't you dare try for me.
I can't let you in.

Boy.
You are idiotic,
Chaotic,
And the least exotic.

You are flour in the kitchen.
You are dandelions blowing in the wind.
You are useless.

You're the puppet now, and
I hold the strings.

You're the bell,
And I'm the freedom that shall ring.

You are nothing if I say you're nothing.
You're something until I give you something.

I created you.
I designed you.
I gave you life.

Don't you dare make me take it away.
Because, boy, I will.

I want to be tongue tied with you,
Not the way you’d think.
Not stumbling over words we could only dream of how to pronounce,
Not stuttering over the phrase ‘I love you’,
Not spitting out each other’s names every time we reach a high.

I want to be in knots with you,
Tongues twisted into each other,
I want to drool with you.

I want every word to come out in mumbles,
I don’t want anyone to ever understand us.
(Then again, they never did.)

I want to feel disgusted with ourselves,
I want to taste your last meal,
And I don’t care what it was.

I want to inhale your exhale,
I want to tangle uvulas together.

Sick, isn’t it?
Revoltingly simple.

I want our teeth to clash,
I wouldn’t even complain if we chipped one.
(The government can pay for our fillings.)

I want to feel your every taste bud tasting mine.
I want to do a dna test with your spit,
Only to find out that we were past life lovers in each other’s bodies.

I want to scare everyone who dares to look our way,
We can mumble and groan like zombies.
We can grumble and moan like newlyweds.

I want to feel spit dripping down our chins,
I want to look stupid with you.

We can be all knotty,
Just slip yours into mine.

(Tongues, I mean.)

Listen.

Can't you hear the creak of the floorboards?
Can't you hear the faint call of a name?

The house still thinks you're there;
The rooms still think you're breathing.

Listen.

Can't you hear the crunch of the frost coated grass?
Can't you hear the turn of the engine?
(Roaring to life)

The earth still thinks you step there.
The car still thinks you drive there.

Feel it?

Can't you feel the sweat building up between tightly grasped hands?
Can't you feel the head so gently laid upon your arm?

The hands still think you're coming back--
The heart still thinks you're beating together.

The image of you and her dancing barefoot throughout the house still flashes.
The sound of you and her whispers still linger.
The feeling of you and her still in love is there.

Remember?

The sound of the radio still statics in and out.
The feeling of warm love still beats inside.
The sight of a smile and laughter still is engraved in the mind.

Remember?

You and her together.
You and her forever.

Remember?

She remembers.
She still sees you dancing through the house.
She still hears you whispering love melodies.
She still feels you there with her,
Lingering, tingling, staying forever--
Haunting her.

You're not the subject of my dreams.
You don't haunt my sleeping thoughts.
You don't exist in my mindless slumber.
You've disappeared from the dreamscape.
You've escaped existence.

In place of you,
Another figure rises from the incandescent air.
As if you were never there,
The figure smiles.

You're not the stranger I once knew.
You're a blur in time.
You're the glaring of lights.
You're the whisper of secrets.
I don't know you anymore.

In place of you,
Another strange thing taunts me.
As if you never existed.

You're no religion to me anymore.
Unholy, unbroken, and unseen.
You're not Godly anymore.
I can't pray to you.
You’re a bad religion.

I can’t read you anymore,
Slowly tracing you with my fingers,
I can’t read between your lines--
I don’t know you.

So, who are you?
Where have you been?
Why don’t you haunt me anymore?
Up in smoke.

This is forbidden;
You and I.
Like the moon and the sun sharing the same sky.
Our hands weren't meant to touch,
But they did,
And in that moment it all became too much.

We are forbidden;
You and I.
We are the reason Angels cry.
Our lips weren't meant to meet,
But they did,
And nothing else could ever taste as sweet.

We are the ones who planted the forbidden fruit.
Don’t fight it-- Let the seed of desire and sin take root.
We have tasted the knowledge,
Good and bad,
We have left the garden, for good, only to remain unfed.

You and I are forbidden.
Outcasts, lepers, and rejects.
We are the fruit you so humbly deny.
We are the everlasting sigh.

The fruit that grows from our tangled limbs are sweet and ripe.
The leaves that sprout from our hearts are twisted and right.

Taste us.
Taste us.
Taste us.

I lay there happy and content,
In between the two,
Arms wrapped around me.
Smothered with love.

I sigh in warmth,
In between the others,
Limbs tangled,
Skin touches skin.
Filled with love.

He loves me, I love him.
She loves me, and I love she.

We tighten the bond,
Me being the knot,
It seems unbreakable.

The world outside wouldn’t understand.
That hearts can beat synchronized.

After all,
A couple is three.

I love you--
I have no other ways to say it.
I've never felt like this for anyone else before.
We could say it's a dumb infatuation,
Or maybe it has grown into something more.

All I can do is write, write, and write.
All I can do is confess my love for you.

But even then,
Poets run out of words too.

Let me tell y’all something:
The white man don’t care about our suffering.
The privilege is too bright to see us.

The white man don’t care about us.
The white man wants to see us get shot,
The white man wants to see us wither and perish.

But who built America on their backs,
Bare handed, and
Whipped into submission?

We did.

We will take back America.
We will take back our streets,
Paved with the blood and tears of our people.
This is our America.

Not whitewashed and stained red with racism.

This is your America.
Where when we say, “Stop! Don’t shoot!”
You shoot anyways.

This is your America.
Where when we say, “I can’t breathe.“
You continue to suffocate us.

This is your America.
Where when we say, “Help.”
You continue to let us suffer.

This is your America.
Where the president calls us thugs,
And threatens to shoot us and our freedom.

This is not my America.

This is your America.
Where you shoot us for having cell phones.
Where you terrorize our sons and daughters.
Where you **** us for being black.

Who gonna protect us?
Not cops drunk on their own power and superiority.
Not the president blinded by racism.
Not our white “allies” who stand by and watch us burn.

But if we burn,
You burn with us.

If you **** us,
You die with us.

We tried peace,
We tried awareness,
But we always end up with violence.

We’re scared,
But who can blame us?

You’re killing us with your American Dream,
You’re murdering us with your American Dream,
You’re suffocating us with your American Dream.

This is your America—
Not mine.

We will take back America.
We will take back our freedom
Or we will die trying.
And that is the American Dream.

You take me to a field.
Overgrown with weeds, grass, and wildflowers with a mind of their own.

Interlocked,
Our fingers make 10 promises as you lead me barefoot through the brush.

You chose a dark starry night with the moon to oversee our ventures.

Pulling me through,
I lift the hem of my dress in an attempt to save it from stains.

Your feet stop.
“This is it.”
You say.

Pulling me to my knees,
The bare ground tickles me fancy.

I look up to see you towering over me, with the moon as my witness.
You push my arms over my head,
Tugging my dress,
Shrugging it down my shoulders.

Exposing me to the Earth—
I feel everything.
The grass, the stars, your every exhale, and the hiss of a snake. (Somewhere in the night with us.)

You smile down at me, and of course,
I smile back.

I start to speak,
You push your hand over me.

“You mustn’t speak.”
I comply.

Your eyes glow yellow in the dark.
A flash of regret and guilt flutters into my heart.
“Are you sure we should do this?”

He reaches to shed his shirt, molting layer after layer,
Revealing new skin, cold to the touch.

Pressed against me, bare.
Out of the crook of his neck:
I see the stars.
Blinking, flickering, dancing for me.

Beautiful, angelic,
Delicious.
You create a new woman out of me.

Clearing at dirt, grabbing at grass, and gasping at the sight of seeing stars.

Crickets sing into the night, frogs croak a melodic ballad, and the birds whistle in their sleep.

A chorus of the night.
Snakes hiss join in.

You use me anyway you want.

“You mustn’t tell anyone.”
I seal my lips with the taste of a red kiss.

As the moon grows tired of the night,
The sun peaks into our world.

You lift me up, slipping my dress back onto my shoulders.
Zipping me up with ease.

I look down to see it tainted with green grass and brown Earth.

‘Was it worth it?’
I sigh, but smile.

Our hands meet again for our last ten promises as you lead me again through the brush.
Through tall grass, tired weeds, and wild flowers.

You lead me out into the sun.

“Here is where we part, my love.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Only on your darkest days.”

You kiss me again.
The shakes hiss and night choir sings. Angelic.

Eyes open—
You’re gone,
Gone with the night.

I turn for home.
(Wherever that is.)

“Where were you, my other half?”

“I was with the night.”

“What’s that in your hands, darling?”
“Show me!”

As if magic, I feel an object pressed against my palm.
(The palm that once held you.)

I slowly open up, breaking our promise.
I reveal the only remnant of our night:
A red apple.

With a fresh bite missing,
My mouth tingles wet.

Who am I?
I must be black because my absent father won’t come back.
I am eccentric. I am authentic.
I am something you would never forget to mention.
I am a Black woman.

Who do you want me to be?
I must be Asian because with eyes like these I can solve any equation.
I am intelligent. I am pure elegance.
I am delicate.
I am an Asian woman.

Who do you think I am?
I must be Hispanic because my last name simply states it.
I am diligent. I am militant.
I am an immigrant.
I am a Hispanic woman.

Who should I be?
I may be white by culture, but not by sight.
I am privileged. I am a perfect image.
I have no limits.
I am a White woman.

On paper, the box I checked says Asian,
But sometimes I forget.
What if my race isn't solo, or singular?
It’s a duet—or even a quartet.
My race is tricolor—sometimes invisible.
My race isn't inside, and no, it's not physical.

What if my race is the rushing water of the Mississippi river?
The river just flows and flows—
Runs wherever it may go,
But some are quiet as they trickle in;
Drop by drop a new river begins,
As the water mixes, roaring free.
If you want to label my race, fine, label me.
Label my hair, my customs, or my speech.
Race is just a rumor that mankind decided to teach.

I wish I could forget that I have a race,
That the color is still staining my face.
I'm tired of the separation,
The segregation, the humiliation,
The exhaustion of having a race.
Why label the color on my skin?
Why not embrace the person that I hold within?


*R.A.C.E. stands for Reclassify All Children Equally.

Yes, I'm hurting.

Yes, It hurts.

You took my sadness and carved a knife.
You took my sorrow and made a blade.
Pushing it into my chest,
I watched you as you plunged it in.
Breaking bones along the way.

As you twisted it deeper;
You smiled.
That beautiful smile,
How could I hate you?
You're everything.

You took my happiness and created life.
You took my laughter and designed a future.
All while the knife was still there,
And you looked at me.
With those beautiful eyes.
How could I hate you?
You're everything.

I bled red love for you,
Yet, this wound still stings.
I bled purple jealousy too.
Yet, you do these things.
I bled yellow hope for you.
Yet, the pain grows.
I bled pink passion too.
Yet, my feelings you dispose.

As you pull the knife out,
Satisfied with your workmanship,
The blade is covered in blood.

You laugh, amused even,
It's your favorite color.

I bleed orange for you.
Just to please you one last time.

(I snuck out of the house yesterday.)

Quietly,
Don’t make a sound.
Shh.

The window holds my reflection in it,
It tells me,
“Don’t do this.”
“This isn’t you.”

I ignore the pleas.
I unlatch the bars,
And lift the window open.
It squeaks.

Be quiet.
Don’t make a sound.

I pull the screen up along with the window,
I squeeze through the opening.
This is it.

I feel the grass under my feet,
Freshly misted with dew.
The crickets chirp,
“What are you doing?”

I continue on.

I run through the grass,
Leaving footprints behind as evidence.

My feet hit the pavement.
Rocks digging into skin.
The night renders me blind.

The moonlight shines down on me,
“Where are you going?”

I reply,
“To see my love.”

I’m half way down the street.
I feel you there with me.
I feel you warm right there.

The dogs caged in the neighbors yard howl,
“Turn back! You shouldn’t do this.”

I look at them,
With finger over lips.
Don’t make a sound.

I reach a slow.
Legs burning, out of breath.

A car slowly hums behind me.

I get in.

The seat hot against my thighs.

“Buckle up.”

I comply.
The engine turns over,
And everything that was forward is now behind.

We pull into an abandoned parking lot—
You know, the one by the 66 Diner.

The car stops.
Seats creaking,
You turn to me.

Windows fogged,
With your tongue pressed to the inside of my cheek.

Car dark,
With my tongue pressed to the inside of your teeth.

Quick,
Be quiet.

I have to be back by dawn—
No one can know that I left.

‘Till then.
The night is ours, Chase.

The first time I contemplated suicide was at the age 13.
Sleeping pills. Just like mom.
I wanted to dream forever.
Many more occurrences followed that year.

The next was at the age of 15.
Cutting. Finally had the courage.
I took a broken shard of glass and I
Finally found the anger inside of myself.

Following that was the age of 17.
Self inflicted pain. Heartache seemed worse at the time.
I dug my nails into my skin.
Making scars seemingly physical now.
I finally found a way to release the pain.

Last night,
I contemplated suicide.
I promised that I wouldn’t go through with it.
But who cares?
Who could stop me?
Who would want to?

I’m happy.
I swear, I am.
You know I am.
I only fake it a little bit.  

But sometimes,
I don’t think I can do this anymore.
I don’t think I can live anymore.
At least not by myself.

I hated myself,
And time and time again.
The hate seeps through the bleeding cuts.

Sometimes I starve myself.
Sometimes I hurt myself.
Sometimes I hate myself.  

Sometimes I contemplate suicide.

But tonight
I cut the pen into paper.
Bleeding out my vulnerability in hopes to die poetically.

You clog my lungs.
You make me stutter and choke.
You make me dizzy.

Still I bring you to my lips--
Again,
Again, and again.

You make me gasp.
You make me break form.
You make me laugh.

Still I inhale your sweet death--
Again,
Again, and again.

You dizzy me.
You intoxicate me.
You poison me.

Still I drink your sweet praise.

A silly thing like me shouldn't smoke,
But you are just so irresistible.

A fickle thing like me shouldn't drink,
But you are just so alluring.

A stupid thing like me shouldn't love,
But you are just so perfect.

So here I am:
Drunk, high, and stupidly in love with you.

All I've eaten today was crackers,
But i'm fine.

I can't stomach anything;
I'm too full on emotions.

All I ever saw was you,
But now that's gone.

Why can't it all be fine?

I only slept 3 hours last night,
But i'm fine.

I can't seem to bring my tear brimmed eyes to close.

They say it's okay to cry.
It's okay to be sad
Or to have emotions.

But I don't want to feel anymore.
I don't want to cry anymore.
I hate it.
I just want you,
But i'm fine.

I'm fine.
You're fine.
We're fine.
It's all fine , eventually.

It's late.

Moonlight seeps into the room through the tiny cracks of dusty blinds.
It illuminates everything.
Touching the books on the shelf,
Caressing the plush carpet,
And landing ever so delicately on the girl knelt at the foot of her bed.

Her eyes are held shut,
Tears leak down the sides of her face,
Fogging her glasses.

Her arms are folded,
She's reverent,
And her head is bowed.

She breathes in and out with the sound of the fan waving overhead.
Her heart beats to the crack of the house settling beneath her knees.
She prays.

The cars drive by her house unknowingly,
The lights dash across the walls.
It doesn't distract her.

The buzz of her night light hums a mesmerizing tune,
Sweetly melodic.
She smiles through the tears.

The faint talk of another muffled through the walls,
She stays kneeling.

The tears don't stop streaming as the heavens open to her.
She raises her face to the ceiling,
Eyes still shut.
She sighs.

Kneeling there,
patiently,
She waits for a sign.

Outside a storm is brewing,
The rain begins to pour.
The thunder is lowly roaring,
Lightly tapping at her door.

Yet, nothing moves her.

She stays in place,
Still knelt,
Still praying with tears upon her face.

She sighs.
Bows her head once more,
And still held shut her eyes.

Some say she recites the Lord's Prayer.
Or perhaps a Psalm.
But maybe she just kneels, patiently waiting, staying calm.

"God, are you there?"

Will you be my Valentines?
                                                                                                                 No.


Oh, okay.

You rip my heart out of my chest,
Pink ruffles and all,
And crumble it up.

You swish swish swish it into the trash,
You feel so powerful.

It lays there,
Bottom of the barrel,
Crumpled and beat black and blue.

The pink ruffles are now zig zag bright red.
It wheezes out in desperation.

I scramble to the bin,
Trying to scavenge the leftover pieces.

I pick through the trash,
I look ridiculous,
But I can fix this.

My fingers run over broken glass,
Paper, and even banana peels.

I find it,
The last remnants of my beating heart.

It’s still crumbled up,
But this can work.

I start from image.

I steam press it,
Whisper it sweet nothings,
And kiss it back to life.

It beats.
It beats,
It’s beating.

My heart is alive once more.

Will you be my Valentines?

Yes, heart, I will.

Curse you!
I wish I never knew you!
I wish you weren't here!
I hate you.

You hurt me every day,
You embarrass me in every possible way.

You malicious thing.
Pain is the only gift you bring.

Rip it out. Please.
Rid me of this human disease.

I take the knife,
And rip you out.

You'll never beat again,
You hideous heart.

I'll rip you to shreds,
I'll tear you apart.

In my fantasies,
The dark and deep,
Where fog pools at our feet,
And the cries echo in the distance,
And sigh in defeat.

You wait for me,
Standing in all your glory,
Laying out in all your pride,
You stare me down,
Hot and heavy,
With lust burning in your eyes.

You reach for me,
Fingers stretch,
You groan for me,
With slight hums under your breath.

Your skin meets mine,
The sparks erupt,
It's perfect,
Heavenly even.

You're my muse,
My inspiration,
My reason is you.

You hold my waist,
Nails digging in,
You lean,
Lips pursed,
We kiss,
Gently.

You press,
Harder, harder,
I bite your lip,
Breaking skin,
Breaking everything,
We sin.

I can’t keep giving you this favor you asked for.
I can’t keep this promise I made to you.
I’m sorry.

I’m breaking everything.
I’m shattering glass,
I’m tearing down walls,
And I am unapologetic.

I didn’t mean for it to escalate this far,
But then again,
Here we are.

I can’t keep this promise,
My skin just wants to break free.

I can’t keep giving you this favor,
My skin just wants to be against yours.

I am ripping your poems to shreds,
I am slashing tires to your sweet ride,
I am breaking the gazes between us.
I am unafraid.

I can't keep loving you,
This stupid schoolgirl crush.

I am walking over our memories,
Crushing the seeds you grew in me.

I am destroying the thought of you,
I am rendering love identical with night.

Tears don't stain my eyes,
Neither does pain.
So don't act surprised.

I am dancing again,
I am singing once more,
And I am not in love.

I am the moon once more,
I am the sun again,
And you aren't the stars.

You aren't the reason.
You aren't my rhyme.
You aren't a poem,
Let alone mine.

You're just a shell of a man that I once loved.
Even then, you're still empty.

I pick & pick & pick.
I peel the layers off, satisfyingly.
I watch the blood ooze out.
Slowly running down arms and legs.

I pick & pick & pick again.
I tear the skin off, contently.
I watch the skin reveal pink flesh.
Slowly, I feel alive.

I keep thinking of you;
I pick the scab.

I keep remembering everything;
I pick the scab.

Flashes of your face invoke my memories;
The blood runs.

The sound of your laugh enters my mind;
The blood drips.

I go to places that were special to us;
I smile.

I pretend you’re there with me;
I laugh.

I sit in silence--
I talk in my head.
I even scream sometimes.
All while I pick & pick & pick some more.

The same cycle occurs over and over again:
I pick, bleed, then heal.

Healthy,     isn’t it?

You’re angelic.
Sitting there by the window,
The light hits you, gently.
You’re glowing.

Absentmindedly playing with your fingers,
You’ve captivated my attention.
You smirk, side-eyed cocky,
As if you know what you’re doing to me.

You lean back in your chair,
Be careful not to fall.

As you push toward,
I notice the bracelets on you,
Colorful.
You’re something different.

You’re quiet,
But only I can hear you.
Speak,
Let the melodious tune ring.
Let me hear you.

You’re shy,
A gem hidden in the rough.

I see you,
Like no one ever has before.

I feel you,
In a way that no one ever could.

This is different.
I’m in love with an angel,
but I can’t fly.
You won’t fall for me,
I can’t reach that high.

I’m in love with an angel--
And God, I wish I could fly.

When I say, you, I mean him.
When I say, him, I don't mean you.
Got it?

You are nothing, but the past now.
You are nothing, but a memory fleeting.
You are nothing, but everything deleting.

When I say, love, I mean him.
When I say, him, I mean love.
Don't you get it?

You aren't in the picture anymore.
You aren't in my life anymore.

You're everything, but relevant.
You're everything, but present.
Can't you see?

You aren't welcome here anymore.

When I say, poem, I mean him.
When I say, him, I mean poem.

Now this one, this one right here, is about you.

I love you,
But I can't go back.

And when I say, back, I mean back to you.

The car flips.

Over the railing--
Down the side of a grassy hill with hidden rocks.
I let go.
Arms up like roller-coaster fun.

Glass flies through the air;
It's perfect.
The light reflecting angelically.

7 year old sister still laughing--
Baby brother with a gap toothed smile.
Mother soars through the windshield;
Finally free.
Dad hits his head against the dashboard, and seems not to mind.
Our family blood mixes together;
Staining everything it touches.

The radio sings the latest haunting pop song.
We bicker over what station to change it to.

The car stays rolling, and with arms up.
Like good ole' fashioned family fun.

This is for you, my unrequited love.
In hope that one day you'll feel the same too.
You're the problem and solution thereof.
You free the butterflies and make them brew.

I stay enchanted by your velvet voice;
I yearn to belong to you day and night.
Love is my prison guard, I have no choice.
My love for you knows no limits despite.

Yet, you move me, push me, in ways unknown.
Yes, you inspire me and give me hope.
Our love is a sin that I can't atone.
Our love sends me into a downward *****.

Unrequited love, take pity on me.
Acknowledge my love, or set my heart free.

You look at her,
She's beautiful,
She's funny,
And unique.

But,
She isn't her.

You look at her dark straight hair.
You stare--
Touch it even.

It slowly transforms into curly twists before your eyes.
You stare in disbelief;
Rub your eyes.

You stare at her round sweet face,
Her pretty eyes,
And her petite lips.

It shape shifts into a strong jawline,
Gorgeous brown eyes (that you fell in love with once),
And soft vivacious lips.

You rub your eyes.

You hear her voice,
It's soft and new.
You smile.

Soon her voice mixes into another,
It's so velvet and mesmerizing.
You can't believe it.

Everywhere you look, images of the girl appear,
Every song you hear is sung by her,
And every sleeping-waking thoughts you have is her.

Aren't you over it?

You tangle your hand into hers.
Hoping the image will stay.
You hold onto her,
Begging the feeling to never stray.

You coil back, and
You look at her.

She isn't me--

And she never will be.

Hush.
I used to think you were Godly.
I used to think you were velvet.
I used to think you were perfect.
Shh.
You’re nothing now.
Silence.
You’re pathetic now.
You’re only a feeble boy playing God.
You’re only a quaint thing pretending to be holy.

I used to worship you.
I used to pray to you.

But now you pray to me.
“Oh poetess God.”
Now you worship me.
“Oh sweet Holy One.”
And don’t you dare forget it.

She calls them her battle scars;
Across her thighs and wrists are her beautiful memoirs.

They are cursive curly,
Chicken scratched,
And illegible.
Impossible for the world to read.

They are her greatest secrets--
She wouldn't dare tell a soul.

She cries in the night,
Slowly rocking herself.
Her pillow is damp with memories flooding back.

She screams in agony;
How could she ever forget?

Her battle is still waging,
Her wounds grow each day,
No matter how many silent prayers she prays.

The scars are torn open,
Ripped bleeding, and
Gasping for air.
They never go away

She is a soldier,
Fighting for her life.

And the battle is still waging--
Every single day.

tiles feel cold against bare feet.
Tip   toeing into kitchen for water.
Find glass, reach up into cupboard.
Try not to shatter.
Reach in for i c e.
Still cold against bare feet.
Pour water, quiet, stealthy,
N i n ja l i ke.

Drink water,
Still cold against bare feet.
I c e still clinks.
Gulp  gu lp.
Down the hatch.

Put glass away.
Reach up into cupboard.
Slips cup out hand.
S h a t t e r e d.

Eyes wide.
Bare feet still cold.
Scattered i c e.

Mom wakes up.
Dad slides out too.
I hide in cup board.
Feet now warm
N i n ja l i ke.

I don’t want to pray about you.
Not because God and I are taking a break,
Not because I’m busy,
Not because I can’t close my eyes without blinking away tears.

But because I’m scared.
I admit it,
I’m scared.

I’m scared that God will take you from me,
I’m scared that he’ll smite me for loving you.

I’m scared that God will cast me out of your garden,
I’m scared that the snakes and I are tangled into each other.
(We’re unrecognizable. Who knows where slither starts and fingertips end.)

I’m terrified that God will tell me that you and I aren’t meant to be,
That we are abominations.
That this wasn’t a match made in heaven.

That we are slowly falling,
In love,
Back to earth,
With wings scorched black—

Please.
Don’t ask me to pray,
Or you just might catch me with my eyes wide open whispering sweet nothings to a God I’m fearful of.