Ask me about my attention deficit disorder
Or Pie
Or my cat, a dog.
I have a bike.
Do you like TV?
I saw a rock today.
Hi.
No really ask me
I promise my attention is on you
Ooh, look at that book!
It’s so pretty
I love books
Do you like books?
Sorry.
I’ll try harder to focus
But I can’t
Yes I can
No, I can’t
Yes. I can.
No. you can’t so here's a few drugs were testing on you
Go ahead
You'll be smarter and better
We promise.
Now don't complain or else we'll take them away.
My brain swirls around in a million whirlpools as I look around a small room
I can't seem to hear what my teacher is saying
But I try to keep my eyes on the board.
Even though my eyes are on the board
My mind continues to swirl
I can't focus
I try and try and try, but nothing seems to help.
Then the drugs.
The drugs that make me focus but remove my focus on food
I don’t eat for days.
I can’t sleep because the drugs make my mind race.
Oh, you can’t sleep? Here are some more drugs.
Now sleep focus and try to get through life without wanting to scream.

Take off your slippers
         Girl
             and
                 Dance
With your feet,
Your greatest weapon.

You pushed.
You pushed me too far.
Too far I fell.
I fell down the hill.
The hill you built,
And then I stop.
I stop rolling and
I stop crying.
It's dark.

But I am safe here,
Comfortable in the ditch,
Comfortable in the rut
That you placed me in.
One big eye watching me.
One force keeping me
From the unknown.
One push and I roll down.
I roll down into dark oblivion
And absolute uncertainty.
But one push and you’re
Gone.

One word
And you are an
         Angel.
The perfect face
The perfect mind.
One word and
I am yours.
One word and
You are nothing but
          Gorgeous.

I am human. I am just like you.
There is nothing different between us.
But that’s where it gets complicated.
I am not the same as you. I am a different person
I have a different life. I have a different background
I have a different face.
I have a different past, and I have a different future.
If you look around yourself, this is true for all of the faces that surround you.
But we are the same, right?
We are all human; we are all part of the same earth
The same creation story. But that’s not true either.
Your creation story might be different than my creation story.
And your story might not accept me as a part of humanity.
I cannot change who I am. When I was born
I fell into a concept most of you didn’t.
The faces I first saw were so similar. Both bearded.
Short hair, tears running down their faces.
Two men sobbing tears of joy. Their daughter had been born.
The first two years of my life I thought that having two dads was normal.
Little did I know then, it was. But not the normal other people think of.
People think normal is a mom and a dad and two beautiful children.
I was never able to call anyone “mommy,” and I turned out perfectly fine.
My whole life I have been surrounded by men loving other men
And women loving other women etc. My best friend has two moms.
One day, when we were seven years old
Someone came up to us and said
“Hey, your dads should get married to your moms.”
I laughed then and walked away, but I never realized
How much that would hurt five minutes later.
Those words were like knives. They burned like fire.
I wanted to go back and yell at that kid.
His ignorance blinded me, and I could not speak.
His words didn’t leave my head and never have.
I like boys, yes, but guess what? I also like girls. And that’s normal.
I can love a boy, but I can also love a girl.
I have been telling myself this my entire life, and I realize that it’s true.
It’s who I am, and I can’t change it.
I don’t want to change it, because I am human
And you are human, and you can love whomever you want.

I left my heart in
the arms of someone
who didn't deserve it.

I lost my heart in
the eyes of someone
who lost me.

I found my heart in
the words I write
that free it.

Oh, to see without my eyes
The first time that you kissed me
Boundless by the time I cried
I built your walls around me
White noise, what an awful sound
Fumbling by Rogue River
Feel my feet above the ground
Hand of God, deliver me

Oh, oh whoa whoa is me
The first time that you touched me
Oh, will wonders ever cease?
Blessed be the mystery of love

Lord, I no longer believe
Drowned in living waters
Cursed by the love that I received
From my brother's daughter
Like Hephaestion, who died
Alexander's lover
Now my riverbed has dried
Shall I find no other?

Oh, oh whoa whoa is me
I'm running like a plover
Now I'm prone to misery
The birthmark on your shoulder reminds me

How much sorrow can I take?
Blackbird on my shoulder
And what difference does it make
When this love is over?
Shall I sleep within your bed
River of unhappiness
Hold your hands upon my head
Till I breathe my last breath

Oh, oh whoa whoa is me
The last time that you touched me
Oh, will wonders ever cease?
Blessed be the mystery of love

No means
No.

It does not mean
Touch me and
Hold my shoulders
Because you are
Too drunk to stand.
It does not mean
Kiss me and
It certainly does not mean
You can come in because
We are closed.
It means back up
And go away.
It means I do not
Want you touching me
So leave.
And don't come back.
Please.

All I speak is nonsense.
The words float around in the back of my brain
Waiting for their turn down the slide.
He tells me, your words don't flow
Quite like the petals from the rose that lays across your chest.
All the vocabulary I had to learn
To avoid the blisters on my back from the leather belt
That wrapped itself around my father's waist.
The dictionary I was beaten with if I did not learn its contents.
I can't look at your face because you remind me of him.
The gold buckle on the front of your waist
Matches the ideals in your mind.
I can't love a man who reminds me of the man
Who can't accept me for who I am.
I can't love a man because my father taught me
That love is a man yelling into your ear telling you to be perfect.
To change who you are to fit his image of a "trophy."
My mind is wired differently.
You may not realize beauty when it stares you in the face,
But I don't expect you to know it when it takes time to find it.
I can love you or that girl sitting on the bench across the park.
You can't tell me otherwise.

Your face more blurred
Than the paint
          Smudged
On my palette

My colours reflect
          Work
And patience
Yours reflect
           Pain
                And
                    Torture.

The same pain
Inflicted on you
By the world
Inflicted on me
By your hands
           More intoxicated
Than your breath.

There is a green sweater sewn to fit an old man,
Cigar smoke and stale coffee hang in the air.
Only a bright sunlight dances across the hills
Pouring in through the window and onto the rotting wood floor.
What if we find new places,
Escape the distant memories,
Memories deteriorating like the room we stand in.
Your hand in mine we can walk away,
We can walk away from your old sweater.
My friend, the hills are ours,
If only the roses don't bite.

I am conscious of what lies inside my self-knowledge.
Everything else is simply a simulation to test that self-knowledge.
Maybe nothing is actually happening around me.
Maybe nothing actually exists outside of this self-knowledge.
I can never be fully aware of these truths
Because I am not conscious.
My consciousness is a faulty plan
To keep me from realizing the truth about human existence

The coffin lays
Black like her lies
Undisclosed by her beauty
Disguised with satin.

Her lips painted
A dulcet red
Like the rose that lays
Across her chest

Her hair curled
Like a doll.
The golden locks
Spill on her shoulders.

Her colorless skin
Soft and unblemished
Her face and hands
Cold to the touch

Her eyes sparkle
Blue with sorrow
Cracked with demoralization
Weakened by misfortune.

But if you gaze
At the shards
Of her eyes
There is merriment.

There is joy
And there is laughter.
There is ambition
And blissful memories.

Her childhood
Scarred by tragedy
Tainted by wounds
Stained with tears.

But behind the despair
There is elation.
Behind the affliction
There is ecstasy.

Each shard represents
Another memory.
The cracks show you
The torment.

Her dress is soft
And vibrant blue.
Her favorite color
Like the empty sky.

But under the beauty
There is pain.
Beneath the blue
There is black.

A world of darkness
Masked by light.
Uncovered by her eyes.
Uncovered by death.

She lays quietly
In the coffin.
No words escape
On her breath.