the lights flickered from the jolt of electricity

“CLEAR!”

the young girl’s chest bounced off the table and immediately back down

her eyes rolled back and then shut

“CLEAR!”

the other ER doctors pressed the defibrillator down with more urgency

and her body repeated the same movements
except this time the monitor flatlined
and she was dead

bitter salt
escaped the sea

at the rim of his lips the taste entered

and the saltiness
stung and stayed

for awhile like that in his mouth

just
like that it stayed

legs intertwined
and breath drawn

one heartbeat

and the sad fact it was over

rain droplets shadowed the clear
window

exposing what was there
but could never be

the dust settled on the box
in the attic

all those random puzzle pieces
that didn’t even work
told to work

generations of random puzzle pieces
settling into its ways

And the pieces together
make the ugliest pictures

i thought about how the seconds go by
and then those seconds are gone

and the seconds turn into long minutes
and even longer hours

and days turn to weeks and years

and before you know it
you only have a few seconds left

wishing you spent them better

i’m so tired

I no longer live in joy

I no longer see flowers bloom
or the sun come up out of the clouds

instead

I now feel hurricanes
I now feel thunderstorms

i don’t like living here

no longer pushing my
presence

keeping myself for
me

Dear Dead Poet,

One day I will be you. I think that’s beautiful to think or maybe it’s a silly human thought conceived to help us justify the inevitable ending we all face, that you already faced. Forgive me if I speak without grace but I have so much to learn from you & I wanted to let you know it. Dead poet, when reading your poem earlier you spoke on love. In death, do you feel it valuable or necessary to life or do we the living yearn for it to veil our misery? Do you have the answer? If there is a way, let your words return to me-though I know they never will.

Sincerely,
Living Poet

a whole visual
based on watercolor and paint brushes

mapped on creativity

the different hues
of pink and periwinkle

strokes that indict emotion

strokes that indict our surroundings

strokes that indict spirituality

and more and more strokes of paint

the tide pulled in
and then receded

the ocean had this never ending game with the shore

in and out
in and out
in and out

it never ended
the cycle never ended

I try to think about
the consequences of
slit wrists and orange tic tacs

It seems miserable yet peaceful

A place of peace

A place of peace for me
For my family members
For my “friends”
For my coworkers
For my associates

They don’t really care about me now
but when I die they will

They will call us close friends
They will post the best selfie I have and write me an unread message on their social media’s
They might shed a little tear at the fact that they can’t call me to cry about their boyfriends anymore
Or because I can’t do their hair
They will use me for sympathy
and they will miss the whole point


It is about them and what they could have done to prevent it
If they would have just opened their eyes a little wider

She could hide a lot of things but
her fingers

they never lie

she smiled
even laughed
but the short
freshly ripped up nails
exposed her

She got employee of the month
yet the sides of her nails were red
bright red
and raw

She showed up
for everyone in her life
but her fingers constantly twitched
every second of the day
they twitched


Her fingers never lied
She couldn’t put makeup on them
She couldn’t put a filter on them
She couldn’t tell them to be ok

The only thing that could heal her fingers

was her
and time

My eye lids bounced
For the first few seconds
When I first re-entered the world


It was quiet



All the thoughts that had slipped
Away
Returned

The morning sun rays
Peeked in through my single window
And rested on my plush blanket

It was the two of us there
On that

Sandy
Windy
Salty

Beach

We walked to the spot
Destined for us

We sat there
And then we laid there
Cause we wanted too
And because we were bored

Bored teens looking for
Purpose
On a beach

i felt instant warmth spread
it was amazing what simple skin could do

the warmth rushed to my stomach
and i wanted to throw up but in a good way

all these feelings exploding at once

at the sight of you
at the feel of you
at the shadow of you

Last month I went to the hospital
with
“Chest Pains”
I had a hard time breathing
For over a month
I had this pain
I thought death was in sight
And I had even more pain
When I went they told me I had

“Anxiety”

I knew I had it but
they told me it was starting to affect me
physically

I thought about that...
I’ve gotten so accustomed to
this feeling of
Isolation & stress
not-good-enough
not-pretty-enough
not-enough

Everyday

I went insane

Not visibly though

My makeup still looked the same
I still laughed the same
I dressed the same
Walked the same

But inside

I was not the same

i started my letter

apologizing to her

she deserved the world and I gave her nothing but the crumbs of it
dirt specks that creatures with no morals inhabit

that’s what i gave her

So i sat there and penned out my apology
telling her exactly what she deserved and hoped she believed me when I told her

the question we must come to ask ourselves is this


at the end of the day am i addicted to the victim role or am i actually a victim

Her voice echoed

one of constant criticism
she loved but
saw things through an extremely
narrow horoscope

She loved too hard
too much that we couldn’t see it

She loved so hard
her words stung us
we couldn’t appreciate them

she loved so hard
she did things
that our bellies couldn’t appreciate it

she loved so hard
she taught our minds
but our souls couldn’t appreciate it

all her words echoed
on my beautiful brain

one that I taught to love
because there is more than one way
to things

Love could be easy
or hard
or balanced

love could use kind words
or mean words
or well thought out words

love could be pizza on Fridays
or cauliflower on Monday
or both without judgement

love could be an easier approach
or a harder approach
or be consistent to what you preach