this is not a dream. but a
culmination
of words left
unsaid.

of ghostly spaces between
broken bones
i mean letters that made me
feel whole
and real.

in the void of words i found
my beating
heart. i found
mother’s
womb.

oh, this is not a dream. but a
culmination
of words left
unsaid.

her
face wets
with tears
of long
forgotten
Shadows.

they cling
to her soft
wounds  
like a chained
ancestor.

she
cries a deep
cry.

as she releases them from
the weight of
her dark depths.

they dance down the
memory of her
tears for
at last she
makes them
free.

this is an invitation to a peace
of mind. i mean a peace of my
merciful mind.

watch me become undone as I
pray under the the lights of
sleeping moons.

this is an invation to explore the
sounds of me.
to the soft unraveling of denied
pain. trapped in memories
of justified
love.

listen to the rain of my freed mind
when he touched
my mouth with his heavy
hands. and made all my
fantasies impossible.

this is an invitation to see my shamed stars
fade in the night
of skies.
how I wish I
would’ve burned
them well.

this is an invitation for the voice in
your head to rebel against
satisfied regrets.
an urging to choose
burning stars well.

i am chaos pulsating through the
freedom of curved
bodies.
stimulating waterfalls of consumed
boxes.

i am the mapper of souls. to
creation doorways
and bodies of harnessed
spirits.

i am the will that tells time how to
to move to the freedom
of your curved bodies.

i do love you. it's just
that heaven ain't on our
side. but i want to give you
all of me.

wait.. my english teacher
said a but cancels everything i
said before.

so let me give my demons another
try. before i tell you i want to give
you all of me.could you
tell me again?

the part that you do
love me. sorry sometimes i
need reassurance. keep it
real with me.

i mean even though sometimes i
feel like this body ain't mine. i still need
someone
to hold on to it.

could you tell me again? you know,
the part that
you do love me.

deep within sacral
waters my hand moves without
thought.

in a trance or sacred
dance.

she flows to the
vibrating sounds
of me.

under cascades of running shower
waters i let go
of a captive
despair.
i become
broken.
peace of mind becomes
undone.
as i cry the deep cry of a
mother being
split open. as her
womb flowers more
life.
under shower waters i free
tears held
in the prison of
breathless eyes for the fear
of being
split open.
under waters my
soul
becomes full in the
brokenness of a
held despair.

we give thanks for the hands that
caressed what she thought
were damaged curves.

we give thanks for the mouths that
remembered to kiss the black holes of her
forgotten sun
flowers.

we give thanks for the eyes that
listen without looking. to sounds
of numbed pain.

and made it okay
for her to fall in fields of flooded paddies.

i give thanks.

The truth is
my parents never
loved me.
That's the
truth.
I didn't experience
moments of
care, affection, or compassion
because
their
hearts were of stone.
The lowest manifestations of life care for their young.
That instinct,
that
movement,
did not flow within them.
It hurts to come upon this wave of realization.
That
wave
drowns me
only because I haven't
gone deeper.
My parents did not
love me
because
love was absent from their hearts.
They, too, never loved.
It had nothing to do with
me.
They, too, were
lonely.
Desperately
lonely.
So much so,
that
they were blind to
me,
covered in their
darkness.
Oh, how I pity them.
Oh, how I pity
us.