Don't you need more and more caffeine
after a cold sleepless night
where you ***** a glimpse of stars next morning

It's just that I stare at the red curtain too much
I mistaken it as a human
and begin to think that breathing through its fibers
is a form of socialization too

Sun, you come to me
and say I cannot be sprout
You do not shine
for me

It's the worst when you don't know
why you start to feel like crying in front of some strangers
and suddenly begin to cry after you spent a long long time not thinking
of tears at all
It's okay, I am okay
I am sorry that I cry
It's nothing, not anyone's fault,
please just put the blame on my tear glands

I wonder if I would survive at all
They say a lot, "be strong"
And I know that does mean
that I am weak

Unfinished poems are the

Daisy ate too much
She is afraid to *****
Toilet, please be nice!

You taste like miscarriage
Back pain is free hugging
It's never been so clear how the walls are white
This room has two mirrors
None of them talks about medications

Your nose seems to know how kindle to the eyes the air is
It tastes like green chili
Or an itch on the back of your neck
You haven't shampooed in months
Stirred stomach

Maybe that is how she talks about the abortion
You hand me two roses
They have never had thorns
Last night I was throwing up tulips
Throat sour like some smile

Your tongue tastes like daddy
Lifted from chest
It was a surgery
You wish it had failed
They found Jesus instead

It is not chest pain
It is just enough that it tastes like pickled her
Bring the jar to you
I'll bring the jar to you
It is blended with your scalp and last Saturday's meal

It has never been so clear why the floor is white
This room has two lamps
None of them knows who Maryjane is
As we are so white as the pipes
I am going to the bathroom

Tomorrow you'll be fine
Just not today
Just keep holding on for tonight
Just repeat this day after day
Tomorrow you'll be fine

And after that I am still a hollow where the
fairies hide from darkness and poisons. I
am still growing flowers out of my womb
and that is why they stink like *******.

And after that your disbelief kills all my
sparky pixies and after that I cannot be
anything more than a hollow hollow. But
yeah I am still growing flowers out of my
wound and that is why I scream and cry
when you touch them.

And after that the stillness of the air inside
me and the remnant echo of morning songs
attract the darkness to come. And after that
I think she may feel lonely so I invite
poisons to also come along.

And after that I am still growing flowers
out of the wound on my womb. They still
stink like ******* and after that
vomitting feels like womanhood thing. And
after that my flowers are still immortal and
that is why sometimes you see blood clot
floating around the moon.

Trees, you remember
my name I don't even do.

[It's not a thank you.]

I see Isadora and her scarf
and begin to think about the tire.
Or an ice cream made out of the stars,
though it would taste more like fire.

Was it fire or was it gas, when
a dance was the wildest?
Do not let them tame you, Budd. But you
have nothing to do with anything here,
so go **** your warning, Budd.
No one ever really heard you.
They only saw the erratic dance, spread
like wildfire, it burned their eyes but did not make ashes.
Even a candle could not be lit, the government just
did not want anything to be melted.

I see Christine and a box of silver!
My heart reeks of reptile or a motorcycle
or it is just an excitement of a .38 you know what and the vocabulary
isn't wide enough to rhyme sleepily but
let's see this together, Budd.
They put you under the label hero.

If I were them, I would not.

[Calm down, Sylvia. Yes, yes, your Dame Kindness
is so nice!]

I see Vincent and Ryan.

[Calm down, Sylvia. You were a deer, a peacock, a thorny tulip,
yellow thing with white skin.]

They are hungry, one was dead, another is still alive
with a smile ear to ear, disgusting as it does sound.

[ ]

I close my eyes and I see a sun and hear mountains,
river flows and swimming lungs,
the unconsciousness glows
like a midnight hunger.
But it was not the clock that ticked, it was all
in my head.

[Calm down, Sylvia. You are
now too pure already.]