birds ran today
never flying
never dying

Charlotte I'm so glad
that your          voice
                and freedom
were found
but now I feel
it is time to find
my
                                         own.
     -the tried and true of growing up

Wisdom arbitrarily determined
By tallied walls
Gains nothing but past mistakes
And generations’ stupidity

Why do we lie I wonder
It sounds better sure
those sugarcoated fibs
But their aftertaste makes me wonder
tastes like oil and grout
     -maybe we do it Cause people Can't handle vulnerability
Makes em ugly and and turns em sour
and leaves us out in the rain
bone chilled and curiosity gone

Death is so far off
but I can feel it still
-dawning my grey pearls

Sweet child
Sometimes its ok to
close your eyes
-bruised sockets

great shelves have built worlds
and destroyed souls
-I'm there
-Can you see me?

In meditation they teach you to turn everything off.
Flick the switch on your thoughts.
Redirect.
Now, I'm a master at that.
I stare blank at the floor.
The boards are thin, dark wood, and recently restained.
There's a scratch the size of my fingernail in the right corner.
   -I seem to have lost the switch.

There once was a priest
who went around taking up the winter collections
he had all the people remove their hearts
and he placed them in his basket

At the altar the priest gave them his holy water to soak up
and he kept them there till spring

The end of mass came with church bell’s ring
heartless, we all got up to leave
careful with our new troubles in being
with hearts gone all things go unfeeling
and all you can do is look out the window
and wait for spring

My heart sings of your's.
The heart so fickle as to chose me **** Kindness, she is so nice!
The blue and red jewels of her rings smoke
In the windows, the mirrors
Are filling with smiles.

What is so real as the cry of a child?
A rabbit's cry may be wilder
But it has no soul.
Sugar can cure everything, so Kindness says.
Sugar is a necessary intake,

Its crystals a little poultice.
O kindness, kindness
Sweetly picking up pieces!
My Japanese silks, desperate butterflies,
May be pinned any minute, anesthetized.

And here you come, with a cup of tea
Wreathed in steam.
The blood jet is poetry,
There is no stopping it.
You hand me two children, two roses.

We're peddling our bikes
hoping views will change
picturing grass greens and ocean blues
peddling under night's and mid-afternoon skies
following the nightingales and morning robins  
but the the point has been lost
and we're without wheels

I have a man
Trapped in my web
Kind in his ways
I wish to cocoon him
Within gentle thread
That will tug at his legs
And tie him to me

here is
   ME
one
       two
              three
me

here I STAND
feet scarred by    the    Land
by the    MAN
Begotten by the son of MAN

forgotten by    the    SON
held down by his    GUN

me who has been  
      SHUN

they move    ON
they ride away at    DAWN

GONE
GONE
GONE

They who felt the   DRILL
of the ****

AND you listener can you    GUESS ?
here let me put you to the TEST.

women born without their DRESS
are still those of the        BREAST.

THIS MUST BE
                                             StReSsEd


her life was in their    HANDS
YOUR HANDS
as they dragged her to the        BADLANDS.

they are to blame
OUR CULTURE IS TO blame.

Brittany White
Muhlaysia Booker
Chynal Lindsey
these their NAME.

black trans    WOMEN

she never asked to    SWIM IN

so take my   QUOTE
it's dead bodies that   FLOAT.

If we burned the bibles
   -debricked the churches
Who would we be?

Running
Running on
Running out
-Which is it?

here is the
moon filled sky.

this is the town
of sleepy wanders.

these are the
star-lusted street lamps.  

these are the houses
where they roam.

this is the sidewalk
where she has pondered.

here is the house
of quiet lone.

where she has
escaped to the back-porch.

my words may always sound pretty
but sometimes i'm afraid they're only hollow

Hello
How Are You?
Good, me too.
-So we say

I bought it
hanging purple
size double zero
in my closet
I won't let it go

I wonder
when I'll be able to put it on
when my body won't roll
when I'll be accepted
for who I am
And not the 129.6 pounds I held this morning

I run at five a.m. sometimes  
the face of diet culture
before the sun
c o m e s    up
with only moonlight to path my way
only venturing out
when my weight
drops, drops
d
   o
      w
          n
with my depression

.2 or more is the minimum
the equivalent of an extra cookie
a glass of water, a second helping
and my worth

I'm scared someone will see
my flaws

16 counted, growing
you taught them to me
shouted via ads
and social cues
and who you'll let on tv

my face, 4 pimples today
with rounded cheeks
I don't want to be the fat one
the ugly one
the girlfriend's best friend
the duff
the dud

But me is all that's left
1 fat duffy dud of a best friend

And as it is now
what value do I have

Art is built on saddened souls
feeling wronged by the world
-why every teen should love poems

my heart doesn't beat in my chest it rests in your's
-please don't crush it

Def ear fallen in cacophonous tune
weightless over crackling floor
taming unknown burdens

bra down
pearls clumped
eyes lusted towards headword pen
lips parted
with soldiers to her back
she's a picturesque statue

souls standing in the mirror clear as glass
wasting our lives in thought iridescence
never would you notice us as we pass
exteriors shine blindingly florescent

Why need look more? Blonde, tall, and skinny
basic for sure. short, mousy, and brunette
you’ve seen the type. Just a mass city
walking under peer given name. Preset.

Masking our heart beating singular tune.
Towards directions anew. There it goes.
hidden in the dark of glowing moon
beyond the crescent’s glow, stay shadows

so when you’ve looked and you’ve seen
what more is there? Why look beyond the scene?

And mama your child is gone

That other girl is gone
Ellis is all that is left

monsters lurking in beds
with welcome smiles

girls with lost sparkle
floating in seas of untouchable plastic
-to the over 35's

It's flowing endless
but only 1% is salvaged
-flooding garbage cans

Sometimes the desire to shake the shackles of
soul and sin arises
   -You can find me on Pluto

There is something so raw about poetry
You need people to know
but not them
Not the ones you see everyday
but strangers?
     -Yeah They'll Do

eyes downcast and heart heavy
my mother still smiles

The world doesn't need another sad, sullen poet
-But it still made me

In ideal I go by day
I need not label or self-definition
           I live as me
-And some days that's enough

She was taught to be pretty
But don't you know?
Ruby red slippers were made to hide the blood

There is nothing for me
-Why won't I leave

Dear Mama,
   I don't think you ever taught me to love.

With much indifference,
-Grinding rocks

happy doesn't pay
-neither does depression

I'm writing over
their worlds