I pulled us up front row seats to a thunderstorm
You drape around me like a moth, warm like firefly gold

We don't want to put the lighting in a jar
The future is already too close

I'm tracing the lightning in your arms now.
in love with a boy whose never let my feet hit the ground
An anti-gravity belt
A contract without the bad kind of sadness
a nice jacket to sleep in when you're not here so I can sleep better when I sleep alone, with only bad dreams to keep me company

Sometimes your jacket is better than my dreamcatcher

We pretend like the rain will never come
The future is already too close

The thunder sounds like rolling over in bed
And I'm facing you in my sleep
A distant beep of reality pulls us from the subconscious
Startled out of it
We opened our eyes at the same time
For some reason it made me feel like I opened my eyes the first time in my life

We ate Frank Fleming's Tongue Cake
Smoking cigarettes in stone gardens where we're not supposed to
Looking Down Yosemite Valley and yeah we were in that valley
"They moved the piano." I tell you. I don't know where it's gone.
"I guess it was contemporary art."
I say, "You're contemporary art..." "Don't worry death is at the laundromat, not here." and I pull out my best Mona Lisa smile.

It's silent here, the color white seems out of place

Kerry James Marshall is speaking history to us
Renaissance is falling on deaf ears
I tell you I want a Native American cradle if I'm ever a mother
And the kids will have fishbones and legends
                                                       instead of Pop Art Princess, barbie

Sally Mann, she left me heartbroken
with silver prints/photocopies of childhood like ghosts
Botero's Reclining **** looks comfy
And there's a Dali missing.

There's something so sick about
        this emotional capacity

Before breakfast we plant atomic bombs in our neighbors yard
                                                            ­   like bulbs of (glad)iolus
Haven't you noticed how much gardens look like graveyards

My cereal, ceiling, bathroom, and skin
        All say Made in China
This homeland is looking more like that land
Ughhh and you can see the blood in my pink nail polish from that sweat shop girl
It's not supposed to be RED!

ooOooopps did we just learn how to commercialize genocide
I'm wondering when I'll wake up with a barcode
Will it be on my eyelids
             my arms                                           my soul

Maybe God was in the bees
And now
Now there's no more honey, flowers, or trees
  
                       Just time.

My brothers both went to war
It's not Wal-Mart
But it's open 24/7, checkout through Heaven
And I don't think they're coming home

Not without bones implanted in their brains
sharp, jagged, broken ones
That kind that make you uncomfortable with your memories
The one's that make it hard to sleep

Last week I found a dead cat
  A dead bird in the snow
When I turned around the corner, I saw myself

I was lying in the street
          Dead, dead
And I felt nothing

I'm not really good at not killing things
Especially the things I love

You gave me a rose bush
And I, and I lit it on fire
That's what you call desire

I'm misguided
My soul trajectory is off
Just like cupid plays with arrows of love
Sometimes God messes up
We are all astray



In this cosmic chaos
But I still met you and try love, you
In my misguided way

I try to put that soul into every cigarette I smoke
Inhale, choke, definetly definetly go broke
Because you can try
But, but it is all rigged like carnival
We're the ones telling ourselves the lies

We are Adam and Eve
As far as knowledge
We are only seeds

You can be certain of nothing
and anything
Superposition
You are, you are the fiction

Those petals, I want them to burn like those lies in September, the end the Summer kind of heat, humid like rainshowers above head in your throat in your lonely lonely bed.

So I put the cigarette down in an ashtray in a mirror house
I am tiny
I have breathed most of my life out

In ways my reflection is changing

We met during a meteor shower
at a party on Cloud Nine
And we were high, high, high
         out of our minds

Drinking the Elixir of Life
     From Vampire bartenders
The bumble bee of time
                whose sting is reality
And idealism is a crime

You were trying to plant trees
with seeds inside rain drops
Like Redwoods and Populus tremuloides

I  think your father was a giraffe made out of sticks from the Swahili language
              by the carpenter that is your mother
Who you look like

I wonder what you would carve from the
   wood of your harvest
A Wife like the Blue Fairy?

But you only saw in colors of green
With absinthe stuck in your teeth
you wear windchimes and windmills like earrings
and hummingbirds nesting in your ears
Your blood is honeysuckle

You caught me a Shooting Star,
              Calling me Eyelashes and Pretty dresses
I  like it best when the stars fall,
sizzle sizzle pop Like the beginning of time
and water fighting for its Life

I asked you, "Have you ever cut down a tree?"
            Pause button lingers on your lips
"What does that feel like?" I ask.
Your reply, "Hot, like the burn on your chest from the sword you made for the King of Aliens."
"He was just an Ex boyfriend" I reply.

You continue your work, eyeing as ghosts
     linger like houseguests on my shoulder pads
Pretending to be my consciousness
I put my morals in the recycling bin last week.
     And threw my soul into a Wishing Well.

You said you were going deep sea memory diving.
Amnesia a Past time, last time, previous life girlfriend you had
Who cheated on you with Reincarnation

You say that's why the dinosaurs
are extinct

I ask you if you need a ride home in my Time Machine.
It's made out of cardboard and childhood memories.

Are you my father?
Or is that my grandfather?
Or my step-father?

Maybe the clock? Or Darth Vader?

Maybe I am only Mother.
Maybe I am only Earth.
Only Woman.

Your thoughts are so off brand
        I can't get them at the grocery store

Sleeping on the edge of a cliff
  facing Northwest
I moved the sun
Now I can wake to its golden bloon
bathe me in the fresh air of daylight
           Caressing the nine minute old streamline
Pulling it closer
Like time does to me
              And I become ash

I gave him hickeys
  In the shape of the Summer Triangle

I'm excavating your ribcage
Looking for answers
Of when things went wrong

I'm no mathematician or buddhist priest
But I'm really good at French toast
And overcomplicating myself

I convinced my coworkers I'm a vampire
Even though I'm vegetarian
The only kind of bloodlust I have
Is for loggers
(They took away my Mother nature)

I'm also really good at being over-dramatic
In a non serious way
You're wearing broken ankles on your wrists
How did those get there?

                                                         ­            Did you walk all over me
                                                              ­       With your hands
                                                           ­          Around my neck

Your hands were the noose that will pull the trigger and make me swallow all those sleeping pills so that people realize my pillows aren't made from the ocean

                                                          ­            You are that critical blow, K.O.,
                                                           ­            last breath,
                                                                ­      That push over the edge                                              

I'm really good at letting my
Scars be neon flashing lights
and/or ants that are
crawling,biting, poisoning
my memories

Letting my past,
                    Make me a Ghost of Today

I'm excavating your ribcage
And everything checks out
But I think you left your
heart at the train station

Most trivial 20 moments
https://youtu.be/MmdyqeM_FLM

I'm still so sensitive
in parts of my body
that have not been rubbed raw
by human touch

Are you a pro at processing?
Digesting information

If so the brainwashing station
    **Might just be for you!

Study sleepy water
Build bricks in your showers
Try to find some balanced ground

Streets crawl like rivers
Buddha is the new potassium
Black is the new fast track

Try to find some Hometown

Tennis Courts are tea tables
              the places we sit and think
      Inside the box

Leave your scars/mistakes/All the pieces of you that are plates
                                       Fragile, easy to break
In the car, locked, just like your keys

Stand on rooftops with umbrellas
             Waiting for Meteorites        
Find some Peace of Mind

Or Open & Close them
  Like S.O.S
And signal for Help

Build houses like Sandcastles
To realize time is eternal
           But you aren't

Keep your childhood like a locket

You aren't a puppet
      Socks are

Find some confidence
      And let sheep be for counting only

I built a nest out of telephone wires
Waiting for a text message
That never came
          like the lover in the 1930's
          and the boy at war

   *He's never coming Home

Bruises like sunspots

I'm as faded
As that time you left the window open

And all my ladybugs & fireflies got out
            People started glowing
like my bioluminescent bonsai trees

And the spots from my ladybugs
         Fell off leaving black holes
Like the sewers
Where you hide your secrets from me

Today I will go binge eating the alphabet
And coughing up peacock feathers
from my fox like habits
Of being sneaky
       And writing in the dark
  Or in my dreams

Watch my words
Wash away

I wish i
Could make you
Stop & listen
Like an electric
                 fence

And hold you
        there

But i can't
i can't do anything

So i is screaming
In Cyberspace

A lonely representation
artificial creation of
            my own
      Consciousness

Trapped between
these walls
called Skull

I'm thinking about that boy
                       Lost at Sea
His eyes glazed over like a dead fish
                      Death is a form of knowledge

She was a storm
        He never knew he was in her eye(s)
But Tempest is, as Tempest does

He was lured by Siren song

Coral reefs,
                  Hands, with nails too long
I swear bees lived in them
              Jellyfish like flowers
              Pollen from their electrical Zaps!
And they burrowed deep

Messages in a bottle were collected
        by the Hermit crab, not some mermaid
His library ancient like the ones in the desert
                                                          ­  Or the CIA

ii.
I'm thinking about that boy
                       Lost at Sea

He was swallowed by a Plastic Whale
(He did try to escape Media & Capitalism &...)
A(t)las he was in the wrong Hemisphere
    More like Pinocchio
Just really good at telling lies

Nets from old volleyball games
                   from the Future
dance like river sprites
            far from home

Volcanoes are failing
                             At making new land
Wolves become whales
Pyramids sink and are like cheap motels of Atlantis
We're all just gambling on one Apocalypse or another

iii.
I'm thinking...bubble..bubble
            He's drowning
Or maybe he forgot how to breathe

Suddenly hooks catch his ankles
        Harpoons & Atomic bombs melt
     the plastic right of the bones                            of the whale
Like a WWII fighter jet and target practice

Blood limps in currents
Jaws plays in his peripheral of his hippocampus
The Great White passes him by
Because he's not seen as important, we're not talking about ego here

He takes off the anchors from his shoe laces,
He was just trying to stay grounded
But now he was just a Bad Pun
with his Lungs the punchline

His airhead carries him to the surface
He's just a boy

He can breathe
This lost boy at Sea
He makes a raft from his memories
      And ties them together with ropes of trauma
The kind of things you don't forget

Like your name,
         your parents
that time you were a piece of wood split in two and later when the splinters finally settle       you're thrown into the fire
The kinds of things you don't forget

He floats towards mirages
Typical, it's not paradise
Ships and planes
           A Sunkyard
As if we built a factory in the sea
            And it got sick  
Coughing up decades of gears and
pieces of a time machine
             Oil and blood being same thing
             Of course
And Seagulls melting into toxins
         Like the new, like mini dinosaurs
A cycle of Fossil Food

iv.
Amelia,
          The reason this boy was lost
                                      at sea
Looking for a woman real mythology
But it should've been Lockhart
Because unrequited is easy to come by

The compass was made from his blind love
It was obvious, this misdirection
A Bermuda Triangle kind of affection

So...he explores the ruins
   Of Japan
Tsunami and temples
Cute girls and dimples
Fish food only made the news for so long

Sometimes when you put a seashell to your ear
you can hear Shōnagon
             or the screams of little girls in Sailor uniforms
Their own uniforms like an arranged marriage

               Tectonic plates roll the Earth
                                into Sushi  
Last week California
                   took a swim
She was feeling a little Hot

v.
I'm thinking about that boy
                       Lost at Sea
And he's trying to walk on the waves
                       Like a Savior
He can't even save himself from his own ego
      It's like the Mariana trench
If she didn't have all that depth

She was just Another girl. His lust was vast, that compass might as well                                        
                    ­                                                                 ­ have been in his pants

Soon he can't tell

The sky from Sea
Or himself and Humanity
He looks down and can't see his toes
                then his knees

He's been lost at sea too long...
Fog like *******
Sea ****
He's been lost at sea too long..

So he becomes a Seahorse
Tries to be a Father
              without any Sand dollars or a Safe Harbor

My mother was beautiful,
              She was an Iceberg
You hurt her with all your global warming

She moves on Slowly
     Settles for a Lighthouse
Who only looks at her so often

The Moon reincarnates me
Because I am the tide.
           Rising, falling
   Constant
Just the Historian.

These streams of consciousness are more like waterfalls
And they're bearing hard

I wish I could free my hands from the
Weight of
                Materialism
It's all sticky

This concept of living is confusing
Separating
Order and Chaos
One, Same, Membrane

I reach for the radio
tuning to the perfect Static
Brown noise to free my life

I left currency and clocks
In a safe
To protect myself from it

Walk into the ocean
Kate Chopin style
Like Sylvia to the Oven
But I'm more metaphorical than these literals

I'm committing self genocide
Of this false ocean
I am a rebeling tide

Trapped on an island
Becomes the best time of my Mind

He puts his trophies in
Parks and the neighbors yard
Like the world is his

And feeds pebbles to pigeons
He does not know his transgressions

He dresses in orange with polka dot pants and snake boots
And is Happy
Free from thin panes of ego and never having to worry about Windex

At night
It is day
They are same to him, just like radio and t.v.
He gets tired one way or the other
Time is a concept we see

His vision is x-ray
And not only does he see through
          you
but everything

He is blind
But we are the one's
Missing things

"Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?"
Social Obligation like stress is a dead weight or a blood clot in the drain
And all I want to do is stay
In bed
Staring at plastic glow in the dark stars on my ceiling      in the daytime

Or sit in a Chair
Pretending to draw
Holograms like Finger Painting for a future
That's just as boring

I was given a Pet Plant
like a dog
collar and all
Ohh wait
That's women

              ≁≁≁

She coughs up metaphors
like it's consumption and the 1920's
All that blood looks like freedom

              ≁≁≁

Tentacles like teacups
And I drink the poison

I've written soo much
But I haven't posted
Like marshmallows
Instead of I've roasted

There is an alien who watches me sleep

He was from the moon
He said he wanted to see the ocean
               to me in my dreams
Sometime between time, Somewhere
Like 2 or 5 in the morning
             Sea Bound
                                     We took his spaceship

We settled in the ocean
Waves from home
Tide like a telephone
Just how they say hello

I think he just wanted to
             be human
I think he was
                  more than most

At least leave me a box of matches
So I can build my own fires

The Sahara desert
Is my garden
But I never could grow anything

We locked ourselves in boxes
& called them Relationships

I don't want to think about you
So I read about the latest Plane Crash

Talking to you is riding a roller coaster
I can feel the adrenaline
i remember the crash

Of the waves
And a bath/ a shower
It doesn't matter
No water is hot enough
To wash your flesh a  w     a       y

Underground
Hair still growing
My curls fall like the fibonacci sequence
Convincing me there's some pattern to this madness

And now
All that's left is
A mirror, a maus, and a Cashmere Cat

I used to date letter
A boy who wrote like an apology
Then I realized,
He was only good at explaining himself

Then there were parks
Now there's just picnic benches.

You're like a window
Light shines through
But it's dark inside

Cardigans for Curtains
All those lovely shapes, beside
Depending on the weather
Sometimes you're blue (Don't forget I can see through)
Sometimes you're black
Sometimes stars get stuck
           Fixation, Oxygen deprivation
Where would we be without you...?
                    dot, dot, dot, Question

The stars get stuck in the cracks
Obviously a metaphor for your flaws
And these lines/curves/obscurities
                  of my vision
Help me see you

Prism, dancing, and trying to age like wine
Getting, getting better all the time

Reflect it back
   Childhood
Magnolia leaves
Currently being abandoned
             Streets
Real Estate
   And different Paint

Then College
NOT taking you're money
"Too bad, see you next time honey"

Lanterns and Moths like houseguests
   Here to assess the property damage
You are not Real Estate

You are a Window
Light shines through

Ivy like a crown
Curtains like a blanket
You're looking from the corner
Feeling like the abandoned streets
Ex boyfriend like kids throwing stones
                      their blind, so they usually miss...you're beauty

You may crack, fracture, fractal
But you are Urban
                   There will be renewal

Here comes the repairman (Not that you need a man)
            Band-aids & stickers
Heartache like a stomachache
And he's looking in

There's the Windowsill
Light Shines through

You are more than a Window
But it's dark inside

I didn't want you in my pants
So I put on a dress

Poetry is like laundry
And sometimes,
all day
You just want
to fold origami

My elbow pops
Like the way the word
Snap dragon sounds

My freckles aren't constellations
They're reminders that I am not
Dark and ancient
Like my ******* father

My hair
FRIZZY
Like a pumpkin on fire

Voice
So sweet it makes me sick
And now all my teeth have fallen out

My throat swollen
A cave with an avalanche stuck inside
Dead bats
And stalactites like toothpicks
I don't need

Nails
Like tree bark
Hollow in all the right places

Scars
Like a record
Of the way I hurt myself
Put it on Repeat
Till it scratches

Cheeks like high school
Like humiliation
With four eyes perching
Not lucky clovers

And eyes glued on
With one glued on wrong

And knees that I'm constantly falling down on

My memories run stale
Just like your ciggarettes

You are like spam.

My mother stands with an axe
In front of my sister's door
As if she can chop
                            down her defiance
like a tree

It's late
Home is somewhere before memories
and after a tomorrow that'll never come
And now I'm climbing over a fence
That's gutting me like a fish
With dogs in the distance waiting their turn
                        
                        Flashlights Swirling
like carousels
But there is no childhood
These are just train tracks
And home is something I'll never know

I'm really good at stepping on my toes.

The sky looks healthy today.

There is a man with a TV head
And he is screaming
But no one can hear
Because he's on mute

I'm angry
You think we are the enlightened
Still we are sheep
Followers not leaders
and were swamp deep

You devour words like 'porch' chops
The place with the swing
'Cause you're all just along for the ride
Buying in to cliche
Lying to ourselves that that
That That
is good poetry

"All I want to be is your antidote"

Wish I had a soundtrack of your heart beat.

You stack Eiffel Towers
in your flowers
then cut elevator ties
Like it's World War II