His eyes captured mine on the subway-train.
They felt knowing; telling, yet held a certain pain.
I looked at him, not even knowing his name,
yet his soul seem one in which I was ingraved.

Our eyes danced back and forth, a rhythmic flow,  
communicating words no one will ever know.
Swirling hymns life can't equate.
The train was coming and I'd now be late.

My eyes lingered on his, grasping hold a final taste.
He walked over closer to my fate.
Maybe he was getting on the same one as me.
Maybe this was our destiney.

The train came, quickly sobering my fantasy.
I rushed on, not abandoning
the hope that he might too.
We hope don't we, that's all we'll do.

He got on a different train.

Bask in the emmisions of my spirit.
Let me be your source of hospitality.
Let me give you a peice of my brain,
food for thought.

See my soul, what is it like?
Relish in my words, the pretty words I write.
Don't hold my hand,
but hold my essence, honey of my being.

Don't put my picture in your wallet.
I'd rather you hold by laughter in a lockette.
Not because I have a pretty laugh,
but because it is an audible reminission of my past.

One day, my body will rot,
yet never will my thougts.
I am my spirit, not my face.
I am everbeing, a living that can't ever waste.

It hurts to see my mother's face,
To which I know I've brought disgrace.
She doesn't know the battles I hid.
Pains upon seed of her own flesh.

Blood for blood.
Sins of the saved.
One more hit, then I'll fade.

My soul isn't for this world.
I'm a sheep wearing flesh,
in a world of wolves wearing shiny masks
I'm consumed within,
I become like my captures.

One more hit delivers me.
I think I've lost my divinity.
I'm not different, am I?
Maybe that's really why;

It hurts to see my mother's face.

Drunken came the old man.
***** from the work of the day.
Smeared by the grease of the night.
I scurried away with fear and discgust
like pityful field mice.

I locked the door but I still heard it bang
but by morning this would all fade.
He was a good dad
was'nt he?
or was my admiration all a twisted memory.

Once was a time
that floats to my mind like a milky cotton candy sky
or a warm autumn eve
when we were a pair, just him and I.

When he would tell me tall tails and fables
under the cover of a starry night sky.
And I would close my eyes and dream
but when I open them I am back
to the floor inside the room
with the locked door.

The first black eye I ever got
from the fist of my own blood.
I told my mom I tripped and fell,
but at this point all is well

He wasn't clean then
His mind was a mess

Cold hard liquor in the day
And even harder party drugs at night.

And I was left alone.
But he was a good dad.
Wasn't he?
He said he did it all for me.

He left behind the crazy life for his daughter no?
The one he dressed in heavy gold off ******* money.
The one who he threw big fancy parties for?
She like to party too.

I hope I don't turn out just like him.
Turning my nose to a table, and my back on my own kid,
who will run off,  tears in eyes,  
my mind on my own wants while they sit there,

like me.
My fathers daughter, dressed in gold.

Every day we drive by.
And every day, like clock work,
my mom tuts and shakes her head.
Demons she declares them.

I shake my head too, in agreement.
A little white lie I know I can't really stand by.
But I can't help but let my eyes follow the brick walls
and the door swing open and close.
I try to capture it all
in my mind... just incase.

I wonder what she would say if she caught my wandering eyes.
How she would behave if I one day needed
to go to the evil planned parenthood in downtown.

Oh the way her "holier than thou" harping would ring to my core.
And how I would wilt to her judgment disguised as worry.
Her wild-child, the one she always never caged.
Making irreversible mistakes she never gauged.

Oh child of mine
Oh Dear, Oh Dear
Hold your heart close
and your legs closed tighter.

I've thought a lot about it
enough time to pass
the melodramatic fits of passion
I house regularly in this skin of mine

That maybe the end of the world isn't at my door step
and that maybe I can live without your mahonany eyes, yet
I feel a yearnful pull to the softly spoken words
you renounce

Maybe it really wasn't meant to be
And I wasn't meant to be devinely yours
your one and only love for all of my life
I was only 14 when I loved you and
I coersed my own mind to belive that I would only have one love
like that in my life

This realization has felt like
Maybe I have grown
Maybe my girlish teenage mind has began to see reality
Like Messieurs les enfants
born yesterday but grown the next
overnight I lost the child version of myself
to the evermoving trail of time

or maybe I can just feel my prefrontal cortex developing

Im alive
but I feel im not living,
atleast not  for my self
I live to serve
and die to feel

I always wanted to go
to run free
like a leaf in the wind
but I sit in place like a flower
only wanted for visual appeal
thrown to the side once I wilt

my own body is
not only mine
he told me
'I need you alive'

When I first heard that
It sounded sweet
like a twisted condolance
but now I see
how my life is a commodity
some thing to be had

My mother made me with
a servantful heart
one that caused me to feel
it was always my fault

I stayed up late to raise babies
and got up early to learn how
to get my self out of the situation
because a 'woman is always more vulnerable'

My mothers own words
that meant
for me to succeed as much as a man
I would need to work my life away.