Preparing for a no
Before asking

Is like digging up seeds
Before there are signs of weeds

But which is worse?
The possibility of some tormenting weeds
Or
Not ever having a garden in the first place

My flowers could grow tall and bright and strong
They could be my purfume smell
They could be my smiles

Well i know
weeds do grow
And can **** my lovely flowers

I'll just plant some more

Try not to over think
My thinking voice thinks
But thinking about not thinking
Has just make me think more

What's your favorite emotion, he asks me
Because he likes to ask silly questions like that
Ones that always catch me by surprise
Ones I'm still learning how to answer.

Fear I said
My favorite is fear
Why would you want to be scared?
Everyone wants to be brave

But fear is the most beautiful feeling I know
It is delicate and loud
It fills you up to your ears

If I love you I want you to scare me
I want to shake in your arms
I want to be filled with fear
Because fear is beautiful

Fear shows weakness
Weakness breeds strength
Fear means you are doing difficult things, new things
Something most people would not
Because they fear like you
But unlike you they let it scare them
You let fear fill you up with love
Because you think fear is beautiful.

Looking back at photos of me looking happy
A nice slim figure
No extra weight to carry
No face to be ashamed of

I have a house with no mirrors
Because I get disgusted by myself
When I happen to see a glare in a window
I only feel tears

"I'll call you sometime," he says as leaves.
That will never happen, ive so many times learned
He looked repulsed when he saw me
And my stomach just turned

Even my family feels hopeless
That one day I'll look lean
Around the table aouside we relaxed.
Later They hint I'm too fat
On my fat giant ***, the chair too small where I sat

Diets and cleanses
Jogging and biking is pointless
As fat just seems to add
I just get more sad


Nobody knows in the dressing room I cry
After rejection I sob
After a meal I feel guilty
When I breathe and I live
It seems so silly

But maybe one day I'll be happy and skinny
I won't be alone, eating won't feel like I'm sinning
So the mirrors that I threw out
The pants that are huge
The face disgustingly ugly
The way I look, I have no excuse.

I can’t listen.
My mind is a prison.
Tears fall down my cheek.

My confidence weak.
No appetite to eat.
Thoughts race and prevent me from sleep.

Bags under my eyes.
Whats that in the sky?
They tell me its just a phase.

ADD isn’t real.
Why is this such a big deal?
Little do they know it ruins my days.

Can’t focus in class.
Teachers think its a load of crap.
No one understands that this isn’t okay.

I try so hard.
I studied all night!
But I always seem to fail.

Look at my medication.
Look up the facts.
When will they realize ADHD is real.

Reality and daydreams.
Which one is real?
Which is more important;
The lesson in class, or the color of my nails?

My confidence; frail
My complexion; pale
My mind?
A jail.

But I put on a smile.
Make life seem worthwhile.
Because once in a while I can finish a task.

But pretending i’m fine.
Missing homework deadlines.
It’s like i’m hiding myself with a mask.

Don’t get me wrong.
Some people have it worse.
At least I have a roof over my head.

Although i’ve cried.
I’ve never considered suicide.
But others wish to be dead.

So treat me with respect.
Break the stigma.
And educate yourself.

ADHD is real.
It’s an unfair deal.
So you can choose to understand mental health.

I don’t have enough focus to listen.
And thats what your missing.
This is not a choice, this is something I dread.

So next time you judge me.
Next time you label me.
Remember, some with ADHD wish to be dead.

I wanted to write a poem for my sister
one about the sycamore tree

its crisp petals beneath all our shared beds
mother womb treasures split in silence.
starting from her frail bones and opaque blood
the rise of her feet
her night flower soul.

I wanted to write a poem about my sister
to gleam like a mirror
in the agony of infinite sundays and sun rays
as she calculates each sun
so it can celebrate her and reflect
from my deeply clogged adoring throat.

under and above the fig tree we lay
around us ripe round fruits
sticky with perpetual juice
rotting with skid marks
bearing the ghosts of past generations
yet a whisper is dropped
how the woods, the ocean and the desert are good
they nourish the stars.
So we move to our own dust.
Perhaps in illicit seasons we find flare
for guidance in finding a different sky.

A long long time ago
Before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was  an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.

At the airbase in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship
and found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark
but I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.

A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands
and also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door
she passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
Follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.