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Shave – it’s not really reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Please don't ever become a stranger,
whose laugh I can recognize anywhere.
X-treem card?
(Beep!) World Poker Tour card?
Credit card?
Debit card?
(BEEP!) Insert card now.
No, not that way, stupid!
Turn it around!
Would you like a receipt?
Why not?
What is your weight?
What is your (beep!) fate?
Would you like a free car wash?
Don’t talk to me like that –
I’m going to make you push some more buttons.
Push the “enter” button
which is cleverly (beep!) hidden
in a thicket of other buttons.
Oh, dear, you couldn’t find
The “enter” button in time!
Start over (Beep!) hahahahahahaha.
Gas went up ten cents a qallon since you got here.
There’s a motorcycle gang waiting behind you.
You want air? (Beep!) Drive around back
And have your credit card ready.
Do you want water for your radiator?  Yes?
Arctic Mountain Springs?
Montana (Beep!) Mountain Springs?
Sierra Mountain Springs?
All-Natural Mountain Springs?
City water??????
Would you like to come inside
and buy (Beep!) cigarettes from a hefty country girl
with a mouth full of chewing tobacco?
Lift handle and select…
Please start over.
I know why the caged bird sings.

It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.

It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.

He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.

He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.

He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.

He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.

He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.

The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.

I know why the caged bird sings.
A twist on a title by one of my favorite authors...
 Mar 2018 Sylvia Fénix
Ciel Noir
We are such            clever creatures to divide
Most everything             into its different sides
With chaos versus             order, dark and light
The stark duality of         wrong and right
We even split the very        world in two
With human versus human,       we and you
But still no matter how much      we divide
Each thing has infinitely many      sides
 Mar 2018 Sylvia Fénix
 Mar 2018 Sylvia Fénix
you aren’t here anymore
thought they say you haven’t been for a while
not since poppa went home
he stays where flowers zenith and the sun never comes down anyway
i loved you before the lights went out
perhaps i only did because i had to
there were always no flights to catch, for you and i both
5300 miles away couldn’t keep us apart anyway
i still keep the sweater you knitted me when i was 5
tucked in with all my hopes of you watching me grow up
you were all the warmth i needed here
coursing through, becoming the angel in my bloodstream
think i love you even more, it’s easier for you to see me now anyway
but still so hard for me
didn’t see your open casket
but you never saw me in my mothers blanket
i wanted to be the last face you saw
perhaps you wanted to be my first
i still **** my father for this
but it’ll be the exact same cycle when he leaves
i still carry you in my name
June was never summer in New Zealand
but it didn’t need to be
you were always more beautiful
a sight for sore eyes
one i didn’t see too often
visit me tonight, one last time
i want you to tell me what it’s like up there
if it’s really what they say
if it’s really the better place they say it is
as if they knew anything about what you were truly like
but then again
neither did i
What's in a name? I love you forever, nana.
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