I'm just a sparrow
longing for sky
and if I had wings
I could fly.

They want bodies.
Warm, compliant bodies. Moving parts.
Hands that open doors and flip switches.
Spines that bend but don’t break.
They want eight hours of labor, plus the commute,
plus the side hustle,
plus the ever-present smile that says,
"I’m lucky to be here."

But bodies need rest.
And there is nowhere to rest.
No shoebox. No storage unit.
No couch, no floor, no friend with a spare key.
Just asphalt and backseats—if you’re lucky.
Just parking lots and fear and pretending to be fine.

We’re told to buy the things that prove we’ve made it:
the ergonomic chair, the smart toaster,
the streaming subscription that numbs the noise.
But where do we put it?
Where do we live with it?
They expect us to consume while we disappear.

They want machines
—but with human elegance.
They want efficiency
—but with soul.
They want labor without the laborer’s needs.

We are the product and the producer.
The face and the function.
They demand dignity at the front desk,
but deny it in the zoning map.

We work full time,
and still live in our cars.
If we have one.
If it hasn’t been towed or repossessed.
If there’s a safe place to park without being harassed.

Why?
Why can you clock in at dawn,
and still sleep under stars you didn’t wish for?

Because they want bodies.
But they do not want the burden of keeping us alive.

I was just a little girl
Watching chaos unravel, helplessly
Confusion became a daily routine
Silence, my only defense
And I honed the art of observing pain.

Day by day
I saved up pieces of disappointment
Until the jar began to crack
Spilling exhaustion
Hardening into quiet rebellion
Sharpening into well-trained disgust.

We stopped looking, even beneath the bed
Where is the sorry we deserved?
Where is the responsibility you clung to so tightly?
Where is all the change you once promised?

But whatever
You're here, technically
And us?
We've mastered the art of needing nothing from you.

I check the phone

No message from you

And I wait

I wait

For a vibe

For some color

On these deserted days of mine.

I was on the edge
not of a street,
but of everything.
The kind of tired that sleep can’t touch.
The kind of stillness that feels like disappearing.

And then
a glance.
Soft, unplanned.
A stranger with blue eyes that didn’t ask,
just saw.

No words, no story,
only silence between us
that somehow said,
“Stay.”

One stop away
that’s all.
But in that moment,
it could have been another universe.

I didn’t fall in love.
I fell into the possibility
that maybe, just maybe,
life isn’t done with me yet.

Perfectly sweet
Enamoring treat
Affectionately
Conconcoted to please
Have a slice with tea-

Complimentary
Oh, my heart, she fleets
But thinking of thee
Brings shakes to my knees
Like none other seen
Eat up, and in glee
Return for serve three

In ten days,
the whole bowels,
finally cleared - spring.

I will tell you something—
What hurts the most:
I look in my shower and can't see your towel.
I smell the sheets, but they don’t carry your scent.
I miss you like crazy,
And I only have the walls to vent.

I want to scream and come running to you,
To feel your sweet lips on mine,
To feel your arms around me too.

Oh God, I miss seeing her in the morning.
Help me to cope—
It feels like my soul was ripped,
And my brain just needs dope.

Don't pretend it isn't still stuck
At the back of your mind
Don't blame it on bad luck
You know you're the reason you're
Falling behind
Couldn't you have done more
Held on for a bit longer
Been a little bit stronger
Well now look at who the crowd’s
Laughing at; you screamed a bit too loud
For the pain you've gone through
Why’re you
So weak? Answer me
Seriously
Look me in the eye and tell me
You aren't just a mess sitting in
The corner. They told you you'd win
In life; the only thing you can do
Now is prove them right, you
Know what I mean?
Stop lying to yourself. You haven't seen
Worse. You know
You're fine. So go.
All it takes
Is one step off the edge to make
History. One last breath.
[The admin has kicked ‘Natural Death'.]

I sometimes receive

mail with no meaning attached:


an exchange parcel.

They call her names,
send their curses through a screen.
She blocks them,
but the words slip through the cracks,
curl beneath her skin.

She scrubs her face,
but the insults don’t wash away.
She sleeps,
but the whispers slither through her dreams.

Years pass.
The usernames are gone.
The accounts are deleted.
The laughter has moved on.

But the words—
the words still stay.

I have spent days
beside you and a
thousand nights
alone, dreaming
on the edge of
spineless books
too afraid to jump!
now I find myself,
drinking, dancing,
laughing with the
forgotten writers,
wrapped up tightly
with all their solitary
words, words scribbled
in relatable misery, I have
fallen in unrecognisable
love with their loss,
their lust, their insane
style of adventure, their
relentless drunkenness,
their sorrow, their suffering,
their almost unbelievable
grief …
Clay.M

Your touch etched beneath my heart
Sore and gruesome
Unforgettable hurt
Wounded thoughtlessly
Taunted by the absence that haunts me boundlessly
Suffocated by the depths of you
Captured by the heartache you burdened through me too

Truth hides in Ignorance,
Truth is Wisdom.

I love you.

Virtue hides in Arrogance,
Wisdom is Virtue.

I honor you.

For together we birth them!
From mental to physical!

Immaterial!

Upside down you walk the clouds
And you are unaware
You touch your feet on moonbeans
They are a golden stair

You breathe under the ocean
Peruse the coral reefs
Dance with the yellow fishes
Tell them your beliefs

The Earth is actually the sky
Cars are birds that fly on by
You query raindrops - they don't lie
You pet doves - they're never shy
And the rainbows never die
You never stop to question why

You see angels. You hear ions.
You smell blue. You touch the eons.
The beggers rule. The bankers peons.
Are these things we can agree on?

Your hair's a cloud. Your skin's a glove.
The sun is flat. The Earth's above.

Let's just face it...

You're in LOVE!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/31/2016

A sewing needle pulls a red string
Taut against the flesh of my lips
By my own hand I am bound
From my mouth nothing slips


my gentle fingers create divots within her supple skin
squeezing her,
mocking the ache in my chest
upon the first taste.

refreshed on the brightest days
splashed by the warmth of sunrays.
it’s been many long months,
in the minutes between.

and suddenly i am back on earth,
brought back to life,
her on her back,
my mouth on her thighs.

she woke my mind
with a consciousness
  undefined,
moving like a slow kiss in the rain
she conquered my demon’s reign
and became,
yeah
she became my mind unrefined
and
a slow kiss in the rain..

Message from old friends
Makes you happy
you are loved and taken care
Makes you smile
Gives you a fresh air in this tight and exhausted work schedule
So whenever you get time
Drop a msg to your loved ones

forever is
an excuse to operate with impunity
forever is
a long dead galaxy
forever is
a lover's attempt to lessen their offenses
forever is
our promise in it's final stages

It is time
to rise and fight.

It is time
to take a stand ,
for what is right .

It is time
to turn the tide .

Today is the time
to save the world,    
for our tomorrow
    
          or else

there will be none.

My mouth is a magpie.
I collect syllables like shiny things
and scream them into soup.

Alphabet in disarray.
Syntax on fire.
Verbs wearing fishnets.

I said please but it came out pyre.
I said love but it burned at both ends
and tasted like lightning bugs
smothered in saran wrap.

This isn’t poetry.
It’s a word riot.
A sentence rebellion.
A grammar glitch in God’s inbox.

I built a language out of side-eyes and stutters,
called it flinchlish.
Conjugated heartbreak like it was Spanish.
(I hurt, you hurt, we—
don’t talk about that anymore.)

Sometimes I write elegies in emojis.
Sometimes I tongue-twist psalms into punchlines.
Sometimes I just scream into Google Docs
until it autocorrects sorry to spine.

My voice is a thesaurus
spun too fast in a washing machine.
Everything comes out wrinkled,
wet,
a little more
mine.

the moon is not gluttonous
the sun knows no greed
the earth feels no hunger
the stars know not of shame

yet my body—created from its resources
a true creature of all sin
a pit of rottenness
a decaying mind
with only the cruel desire to be thin

The shuttlecock, served,
Goes over the net.
I'll probably lose
The dollar I bet.

The birdie in flight
Flits like a sparrow.
She hits it so hard
It darts like an arrow.

I smack it as hard
As I can possibly smack it,
And, wouldn't you know it,
It's stuck in my racquet.