The air is mellow,
lights are dimmed.
Everyone seems to be faced blank.
Aroma of coffee beans and jazz,
the floor incrusted with sweat and dancing.
Fingers strumming,
fingers snapping.
Fingers playing,
heads mellowing.
The crowd is covered in berets,
my pen wrapped in tight of my hand.
I feel the sensation to fly off.
That's poetry.

I was there, in your bedroom.
Doing what I always do best.
Your mother was ready to pop anytime soon,
I just happened to be the lucky one to experience it.
I seen the growth of a new life happening inside her every time I stopped by.
But that day,
that day was it.
Her contractions were at a all time high like never before seen.
I felt obligated to help as much as possible,
This was the love of my life's mother.
I was the right hand he needed when she needed to walk out the door into the car.
He drove while I kept company.
I sat and watched the kids as he took her into the hospital.
The whole night back home I had realized that I had witness a pregnancy happening.
I was part of something no one else can be a part of in his next life.

I make violence look good.
I wonder who's more evil.
Shall I say I'm the queen of death?
My heart has barb wire around it.
Your life was just a blank canvas until I made art out of it.

I...
I don’t know you.
I knew you, my knives knew you better.
You like this aciculate butcher placed slanted upon your cheek?
I do.
I can whisper a thousand words in your ear.
Flushed and corrupt.    
But I can never do such thing.
I could sit and watch you hold your neck in fear as your hands paint me a picture.
I smoke a cigarette between my plump lips.
I sit there.
I look good in all livid black.
Sometimes, I think about what my knives can really do to you.
With my broad raccoon eyes, I look down at you in disgust.
I pull the bed sheets to reveal what could be your body agonizingly arranged.
Below zero.
Why waste my makeup on someone who has no heart to give.
My red lipstick will never smudge.
Don’t I look dainty sitting in nothing but in my bra? Watching you suffer.
Branch my heel in your throat.
Bend and curve, I hear your bones fracture as I jab deeper.
I like the smell of fear.
I don’t have friends, they disappoint me.
Claws are the new nails,
And I **** you up.
I got a pocket knife.
I like to chuck it out once in a while when thinking of you.
Hushes my nerves.
That black cat you saw in the alley last night,
That was me.
How about we ****** you and harvest your organs for beer money.
I like that.
You remind me of my favorite serial killer.
I have favorites.
I invoke thee.
Someday you will ache like I ache.
I have happy dust to make that happen.
My ****** up boots against your blasted head looks appealing to me.
I just look illegal, don’t I?
I need coffee and a donut for this.
Laughing hysterically while you spin full speed in agony on my marry-go-round.
I make violence look good.
I wonder who’s more evil.
Me.
Shall I say I’m the queen of death?
My heart has barbed wire around it. Protection is the key.
Your life was just a blank canvas until I made art out of it.
Don’t play with my fire,
It’ll burn you alive, baby.

I'm such a freak in the head.

Telling me I'm crazy doesn't make you sane.

So shut up.

I'm hurt.

But reality, you're in most pain.

Bad blood.

I am death, personified.

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Do you think I'm sadistic now?
I invoke thee...

I hope.

Life is hard. Be silly.

~Sometimes I just want to run away with the love of my life.~

Take my hand as we escape the pain and confusion.
I'll listen to you like lyrics to a song.
I put my trust in you.
Your hand on the steering wheel,
the other in mine,
Just kiss me right now as if today was your last.
Kiss me as if this will never last.
The windows are down and I can feel the breeze fly through the night.
You're singing to me,
it makes my, once cold body, warm.
There's a light at the end,
only we can see.
This is the day after forever...

From my pudgy round face, to my so called “Carrot Top,” I was always never perfect.
To the ginger spice curls in my head to my hazel beady eyes, I was an outcast and known as weird.
I’m a girl with bobby socks and the one who gets picked on cause of my red-hot locks.
When I look in the mirror all I see is a bony girl covered in polka dots
To my cheeks, to my nose, they’re everywhere
“Haven’t you seen her?!” They’ll say
My milky white skin glows like the moon at night. I just hate how my hair glistens in the light.
People say I’m more of a cherry tea than an orange tinted ginger.
I say I’m an alien.
I hate how I seem so translucent and that I burn easily in the sun. I’m almost red as a lobster.
Why can’t I have fun?
People say my freckles are caramel stars, honey clouds, or lady bugs
It’s not my fault I look this way. I didn’t wish upon this.
I burn your throat when I talk; I sting your eyes when you look directly into my hair. I tease your nose when you believe you smell strawberries. It’s just me.
Hey! It’s not my fault I’m a red head.

You're a red rose.
Bleeding sympathy.
Craving love,
learning growth,
seeking beauty...

You said you'd be home, where are you?
...

There's warm bread in the oven,
Cooked collard greens on the ***,
Roasted sweet corn and stewed pork meat.
Sweet peas on the side, just how you like it.

I threw in dry wood so that the fireplace stays in heat.

...

I've waited two whole hours, the candles have burned out. I placed the cheesecake back in the fridge and drunk the last bit of red wine.

Surely, one day, you'll return.
And when you do, there'll be a hot meal waiting for you.

And if I told my story to myself ?

It is true that along the rocky story
I often stumbled, and when I fell
I would get up saying to myself
that no one had seen me, and I
would continue saying to myself,
it was an accident,  and I set out
again, hobbling along, saying,
it's okay, the fall was not a fall,
the rocks were not rocks, and even
if some bystanders laughed at me,
others encouraged me, saying that
I had a beautiful story in me, and
that I had to tell it, even if to myself.

As I tap my fingers against the pinewood table, the strands of my hair droop in front of my face. My eyes start to become blurry of tears, I see nothing but the smudge writings on my paper. The room is cold, I can see my breath, I feel so empty. I can no longer see the sun above the hills. I wipe my eyes and tie my hair in the messiest ponytail. I grab my bag and stuff the unfinished papers in it. I throw on my black leather boots with the worn out shoestrings. The door swings open, all I see is pine trees lost in the musky dark. The stars lead me on. I take steps after steps, the dry twigs and dead leaves crackle beneath my boots. I try not to make a sound. There's a light wind blowing in the air, it tickles my face. My callow green jacket doesn't keep me warm enough. I walk faster and see an opening. Out I come, I see the empty road. From left to right there's not a single vehicle. I raise my arm and throw out my thumb. There's leftover tears still on my face, my hair still in its ponytail. The wind becomes colder, my scrawny legs in my black tights can't keep up with the coldness. My arm starts to weaken and I begin to cry. My face is even colder. I sit on the jagged ground with my legs crossed, weeping quietly. Suddenly there's a vivid light heading my way, I become blinded by its beauty. The light comes closer to me, it makes a complete stop. I see that it's a vehicle. A cobalt pick up truck. I stand up and wipe the dirt off me. The door opens and welcomes me in. I don't hesitate. I hop in and never look back. I sit back and let a smile crawl on my face, I don't care where I'm going, or who I'm with, as long as I'm away from the pain.

I stood in the midst and took my oath
Swore on my life I’d fight till my knees buckled.

Murdered those close to me in sacrifice.
Slained the ones that came close to you.
Battled till I saw the sun,

Weep and mourned till the moon appeared.
Taking wounds after wounds,
I rose and slained.
Tread the rocky alps and strong tides.

For what I thought was defending my own,
Turned into a betrayal of deadly sins.
I’ve thrown up the flag of ivory
with the promise of relinquishing my fight.

She is.
What can we say about her?
Well,
She's well mannered and has the brain of an average teen, slightly forgetful.
Help me out people.
What is she?
She's a female,
A female who keeps her thoughts closed, yet open minded.
Belly isn't right and no face of a model.
She is the intellectual.
She's the reason why.
English skills above all, yet falls at social ability.
Why so many take advantage of the one we call she.
She is the cracked heart who still stands on healthy legs and is grateful for the life she lives.
People walk out on the precious.
Why?
Is it because she's not the normal?
She's not the top of the high standards?
What is it, guys?
We need to stop asking and start understanding the brown haired.
Eighth grade is when everyone stop seeing her bones.
Just to point that out.
She had friends,
Well,
They're gone now.
Don't get me wrong,
This artistic figure has grown to the crowd who disowned her long ago.
Her brain tells her to grow depressed,
But that doesn't stop she.
She is the Libra.
She can bring a crowd to the dinner table with hot bread and keep a settle conversation.
Shy. Wise. Lost. Glee. Wounded.
All signs of a growing she.
Let's not point out the acne scars or chubbed face.
She is she.
She wasn't placed on the earth for entertainment.
No monkey on tricycle.
So please don't ask.
She's growing friends as she grows herself.
Finds herself.
Affectionate,
Inflexible,
Apathetic.
That is she.
She will become something in the future the people awe.
She.

Ever have someone that you're so used to? Then you guys fall apart you try to move on... And it's just not the same as it used to be. You start to reminisce, on old times☁️

The rain washes the ick from the world. Cleansing me.
Healing me internally.
Who would have thought that rain can rinse away
the illness of the corrupted mind.
Who knew such organic smells could transform
your outer being.
You’re a plant in mother nature’s womb.
Kissed by lilacs and nurtured with the
sap of a Thousand Oaks.
Let the rain purify the marred heart
and guide those lossless souls back to
the innocent land.
Like a fairy, travel back to the
motherland of abundance and
self love.

I'm so confused.
It's like I want to go left but my mind says go right.
It's hard to erase the memories that stay roaming in your head.
You just want to drop everything and just walk away and stay walking.
But you can't.
Something is holding you down telling you to stay.
You wish you can pause time and have a moment to chose what you want.
But that's impossible.
I can't take the pain that goes on in my heart anymore.
My life is like a bunch of building blocks.
You stack em' up once but they keep on falling.
I want the sorrow to go away.
I deny it but my mind knows I'm lying.
What do I do?
Never in my life I would of thought I'd be in this situation.
But I am.
I don't want to get hurt again.
The repeats are killing me.
What do I want?
I want to stop living this way.
It only makes me sadder and depressed.
I have to take a stand and do something.
I don't want exhibit A.
But it keeps coming back to haunt me and trick me.
I have exhibit B.
But it's so hard to manage it from so far.
I want to get rid of both.
I can't.
There's just so much stress on my hands.
I need to focus on the major things and put these two aside.
They manage to find their way back up here.
I don't have anymore tears to use.
Just pain.
I'm just so confused....

Touch me like I’m a daisy,
Gentle with grace and calmness.
Speak love into my ears,
Lilac memories that flow in the cool moonless night.
Gentle, as if I’m porcelain.
Loud vibrato and clashing scorning
Rubs me like a thorn prickling my neck.
I feel minuscule,
Backed into a corner
With my arms out
Aching for embrace.
You talk as if
Your tongue is on fire,
Scorching my bare skin.
I am not sandpaper,
“You want me soft
But give me a hard life…”
My heart jumps in anticipation—
Looking over my shoulder
Hoping it doesn’t come back.
We were so soft,
Fresh linen sheets spun to perfection.
Frocklining through a field of
Admiration and affection.
What went wrong?
My timid heart is weakened.
I just want to be held like a daisy,
Soft.

I’m too attached to you. I have to stop and think about my life and everything else around me. I get so wound up in you that I tend to lose track of time or what day it is. That is not healthy. I feel stupid for crying, stupid for begging, stupid for acting this way over a guy. It is never that serious, but I am just too attached.

I wake up to the honey buttered toast on a thin china plate.
Chamomile just at the right temperature.
Brown sugar sprinkled on my fresh strawberries.
If I want any caramel macchiato there’s still some left on the stove warm for me.
Peeled and sliced oranges with crisp bacon.
.
.
.

All that you promised to make me when we move in together and start a life together. Guess I'll never get that Sunday breakfast.

The way we live,
It's dangerous to walk alone, sleep at night,
Trust people.
Our voracious greed for lust and pride,
Can we share a meal or give a hug?
The murderous crimes we make,
We grieve, mourn, suffer.
Why are we all insecure?
The way we look doesn't fit the press or set the stage.
There's alot of sins we created that cannot be undone,
Some of us pray, some of us resin.
We rely on technology to babysit us,
Yet we're still lost.
We're all sunflowers lost in a world filled with sorrow, complaints, lust, greed, pride,
The only thing that completes us is the little happy things in our lives.
We're sunflowers lost in the world.

No one can't tell you how to live your life.
No one can't make you tie your shoes when you're walking the ten feet blocks to heaven.
You have an option to wake up that one dark night.
I can't tell you to stay at home and watch the daffodils sway,
that's your option.
No one can't cascade your mind, making you think the way they do.
No one can't tell you to bite the bud off the flower,
it's whatever.
You have a right to stand and preach your words of the holy bible or not.
Whatever book you want your mind to seep in to,
let it be.
You have a choice to paint your walls blue.
No one can't say you can't make a bonfire in the mid-summer.
If you like the long way,
take the long way.
If you want an elusive sweet education, then go for it.
No one can't stop you from breathing.
That choice you made two minutes ago,
was your option.
You have an opinion to what you like.
Whether it's sweet or bitter.
If you like that stripped sweater then wear it every Tuesday.
You are you.
No one can't take your pride away,
whether it's gender wise, cultural or fantastical.
You are freaking you.

RJ,
thank you for teaching me that the love was very young.
I know you go by Robert now, my bad.
We didn't know what we were doing,
but you were so sweet to me I thought it was love.
I realized we're better as friends,
that bond never broke and I thank you for that.

Kuma,
thank you for making me realize that age does and doesn't matter.
I was so naïve,
so immature.
We were on two different scopes of the world.
I grew up quick with you though,
you matured me enough to know I had to leave.


Taee,
thank you for being fun with me.
I know I was never fully emotionally there,
so I thank you for doing what you did and only staying for that time.
It showed me we were better as friends,
from afar.
I have no bad blood towards you.

Bronte,
thank you for giving me the knowledge of a relationship.
Teaching me that stubbornness gets me nowhere.
I fell in love with you as well,
which broke me even more.
So I thank you for leaving so I can know my self worth and that I really do not need to keep you around in order to be happy.

Jacek,
thank you for the being the sunshine after the rain.
I needed it.
Knowing I was hurt,
you came around and gave me the freedom I needed.
We were never an item,
but you helped me realize I didn't need to be an item to have fun.

Allyn,
thank you for showing me there's chill people in this world I can vibe with.
Even though we were short-lived,
I thank you for being the old soul I could kick it with.
You left,
but that gave me hope that there's someone like me out there with an old soul.
I am not mad at you anymore, I took heed in this.

Each other's houses wasn't a thing yet,
and neither one of us had a car.
Our neighbor hood was small so where else would you go?
The park.
It was the beginning of everything.
That is where we first went,
together,
to know one another.
It's where we got continuous bruises from play fights.
Where we got into heated arguments and wasted all day ignoring each other,
cuddled all day we couldn't stay away from each other.
It's where we had fruit picnics and water fights,
deep conversations about our lives and futures.
It's where we first experienced a real kiss,
witnessed our favorite, "dread head elderly couple."
It's where the wind blew and froze us in the fall,
where the sun blazed and cooked us in the summer.
We found toys and did angsty teen challenges,
got bit up by mosquitos.
We had our favorite spots,
almost as if this was our house.
I experienced small womanhood there,
We found baby birds and titled ourselves a family.
We stayed till dusk,
night.
We swore we saw a giraffe in a lady's window every time we stopped by.
I watched you grow as you watched me grow.
That park was where you finally asked me to be yours.
History began itself.

I remember that wonderful lady like I remembered the scab on my right knee.
She was from Georgia, a honey sweet peach that lived a blocked away from me on Summer Set avenue.

She was as white as snow and fragile like my mom's glass figurines.
She always wore her long bleached grey hair in a pull-back tight bun,
almost like a nun. She would always wear powdered makeup that seemed to be brought from the 50's,

Very pastel and brittle on her gentle old skin.

She was humble like the bees, soft talking too.

I remember every early summer weekend I would walk on down to that lady's house.
I would knock on her burgundy shiny wooden door and peek through her small window filled with cat-like collections.

She would let me in and treat me almost like I was her own.
She would sit me down on her floral sofa and whip me up my favorite treat,
Oatmeal baked cookies with a tall glass of hickory sweet lemon tea.

My favorite.

This lady was everything and anything.
She would wrap me in her quilted blanket and play some classical 50's tunes,
We would swing on her back porch and count the Blue Jays in the sky.
I loved the way she would tell her magnificent stories,
The way she talked sounded like soothing waves of the seven seas.

I loved her.

Her deep, poetic advices gave me hope,
It made me realize my inner self.

As the days became weary and the summer sun was drifting,
That wonderful lady was getting weary herself.
She was able to hang as long as anyone I can think of.
At least she stood her grounds and fought for every penny she made in her life.

What a trooper.

I'll never forget that wonderful lady,
She was like a grandma to me.
I actually felt I had someone to talk to during those long summers.

What a wonderful lady.

My fantasy.
I would love that one guy, who holds me tight in the middle of the nights,
And kiss my forehead when I'm down.
I want him to hug me from behind, he penguin walks with me.
He comes to my locker and walks me to my classes,
He'll rather sit with me in the blazing cold, waiting for the bus.
He takes my hat, tries to act all cool.
I want him to snuggle with me and a watch two hour movie.
We fall asleep in each other's arms.
I want to lock hands with him, lay my head on his chest,
Feeling his heartbeat.
His eyes staring into mine.
I want to have a tickle war with him,
He wouldn't have to open the door for me and carry my bags all the time,
I can do it too.
I want to play with his hair, run my fingers through them as I play with his little ears.
He can lay on my stomach while I pet his head slowly.
I wouldn't care if he had tattoos all over,
His face is pierced and his hair is dyed.
I want to text each other sunrise to sunset, say the randomness **** ever.
We can give each other piggy-back rides.
I want us to feed each other while making a mess,
Have water fights and food fights.
We'd video chat everyday.
We'll tell each other secrets, call each other Kermit and Ms. Piggy.
I want to wear his sneakers and walk everywhere with him.
He can come to me if he needs to cry on a shoulder.
We can be ourselves with each other,
We wouldn't have to worry about Valentine's Day or marriage.
I want to beat him in video games,
Go to concerts and scream till our throats are parched.
I would buy him bracelets of his favorite bands,
We can eat ramen noodles instead of fancy restaurants.

My fantasy is being bestfriends with my love. <3

My senses are telling to me go,
I can feel it on my skin.
The multi-colored lights are beaming in my eyes,
Everyone is pounding their fist to the beat.
As I hit the dance floor my body starts to vibe up,
It's exotic.
Pull me closer and hold me tight to your body,
I want to feel you breath warm on my skin.
Clench your hands against my waist as we sway with the beats,
It's the magic on the floor.
The temperature in the room is rising to the roof,
I rub my fingers through your hair while we dance in the center.
The dancing don't stop until we can't get enough.

I'm not beckoned to your ignoramus calls.
Why must you flaunt your riches in my face?
You seem to feed on attention and lust, I don't give in.

I ignore your commands and shun your appearance.
Who is I to be your pal you speak of?
You disgust me within, it's a struggle to tail away.

Our enduring days are behind us now.
What do you want from life?
If you tend to gloat and praise, do it elsewhere.

I shall not sink into your demeanor.  
You cause scars that cannot be settled or healed.
Can you leave people be?

If you proceed to boast, I will no longer rest my case.
Do you want crucial pain in your future?
As long as I'm alive, you will proceed to mock me.

Die.

The truth is, there is no line. There's only your life, how you mess it up, and who is there to save you.
Or who isn't.

No matter how much you plea and cry,
The memories will not appear back.
The heart wrenched days and the guilt trip days were good.
The soft peck days and the love set days were also a treasure.
Memories run for a reason.
Not to get away, but to stay longer.
The more you think the more you cry.
Memories cherish every ounce of feeling.
You can feel them with your own fingertips.
Some people like to sway from memories.
Other try to recount it.
It's like a spin cycle.
Your memories hold the gold that rest in you brain.
Don't deny or hate it.
It's life.
Memories are faster than the speed of light.

She sits on the wet porch, being awakened by the cold wind that hits her skin. Wind shall pass, if not, then why does it blow?

"Weep when i'm gone if you must,
But know it's true if you trust.
I'll only be gone for a day;
And soon you'll be going that way"

The leaves fall gently upon her leather tired shoes,
They're beaten and worn.
She's made a mile and a half just to get where she is now,
She wants to stay.

"Weep when i'm gone if you must,
But know it's true if you trust.
The tears you shed now in such sorrow,
Will be tears of great joy in the morrow."

As the bronze clock strikes noon, she watches the sky leave her behind.
What if she isn't here tomorrow?

"Weep when i'm gone if you must,
But know it's true if you trust.
Death isn't the end of the story;
It's just the beginning of glory."

She trails off and is never seen again.

Polka dotted up and down,
Polka dotted from head to toe.
Zigged and Zagged, swirled and twirled,
Every part of the dress is covered with polka dots.
From pink to green, yellow to blue,
The dots are perfectly spotted on every part.
Zipped up from the back, laced up frilly sleeves,
It twirls a parade when spinning around.
It's not right for the winter, not right for the fall,
But it fits just right when summer comes around.
It shows off your legs, it makes a V neck,
It catches your figure every point.
It acts like a parachute and works like a blanket,
It's your armor.
This cotton wear may be all that it is,
But never underestimate what a polka-dotted dress can do for a girl.

I have taken dozens and dozens of souls before.
Drunks, sinners, convicts, killers, ******.
As soon as they pass on, in your arms they fall.
And to your mistress you carry them every time I call.
Your sensei.

My thigh high boots withstanding my weaponry
I am Kanye’s Devil in a new dress,
Personified.
I’m pure lust,
Unholy desire.
The underground *******.

I see the evil in your eyes.

But hey, I miss the bleachfumes.

I’ve been up all morning just writing and ****.
“ONLY DEATH IS PROMISED”
“CHEAP ***=CHEAP PISTOLS”
“ALL I NEED IS CIGARETTES, ****, AND COFFEE”

Scamming is truly a habit.
Its pleasure after pain.

****, you’re the ****.
I’ll rip my heart out and just hand you the ****…
Like I said, it’s pleasure after pain.

You are not worthy enough to see the face of your tormentor,
You don’t want war with me, *****.
We’re all mad here,
An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.

Stay ***** and individualistic as ****.

Poem #1
You see him very close to you in the rain. There are blurry visions of wet droplets on your eyelashes. Try to get close as much as you can and touch his fragile skin. You’re soaked in rain together with slow, soft music playing through the musky, thick, wet air. You’re trying to find him in the crowd full of humans, but the hustle and the pain makes it worse. Pushing and shoving to get through it all. You get closer to him with every wet footstep. With one big leap in those innocent arms, you guys connect with a wet hug, swinging and giggling in the raining air. Just the two of you guys. Doesn't matter, beyond the background is silent. All you see is just you two in the cold, but yet warm rain. A soft kiss on the lips. This is what you call romantic.  

Poem #2
Don’t know a thing about each other. Don’t even know you guys even exist.  Ya’ll never seen each other’s face, smile, and thoughts. You two are miles n' miles far from each other. You two were dating different people at the time. But then it all changes with one move. You see the new faces, new area, new everything. It takes days, weeks, even a month to finally notice each other. You two never thinking this will happen to you guys, but it does. The friend, buddy, pal feeling you guys are having is petite. Little things change even more. You two are closer, fragile, heated, and obvious. The anticipation waits. The texting, oovooing, Facebook-ing appear.  Then the question comes to place. Things get even more heated, intense. Love goes on and you two are just made for each other. From a faraway distance, a big change can put an effect on life. Two strangers, not knowing each other, being friends and all, become intense, fall in love from separation places. <3

Poem #3
Do you sit on the roof and dream like her? Do you write and watch the sunset slow its way down to the center of the earth like her? You think of courageous things like her? Is there a song that puts you to that place like her? Do you glare off into space and just think of the two of you like her? Do you wish and imagine like her? You pretend everything is ok when it’s not like her? Do you miss her like she misses you? You get up with a fake smile and attitude like her? Do things run in your mind like crazy ants like hers? Do you see a future with her like she does? If so, and surprisingly you do half the same things as her, then why are you standing like a bug on a wall? Are you afraid of the truth and reality like her? You’re afraid on what’s going to happen between you two? Speak! Both of you! Say what’s on your mind. Let it out. It’s best to know than not.

Poem #4
You guys live far from each other. Probably 10 miles far, 100 seconds, 10 minutes, and maybe even ½ hour far apart. Over the trees, through the streets, across the houses, and past the sidewalks. 3 buses to get to him and 3 buses to get home. Only the sweet technology to keep you guys in touch is the key. If only you guys lived close, you can share your deepest feelings. Being far apart is like being on your own, and it’s hard to keep guard n' close secure. You’re a loose goose when not being seen from each other frequently. It’s best to be close to each other than far as a drifty ghost. You’ll see each other at school hopefully, and things will be repeated again.

Piano playing in the background.
The same earing tune.
It's gray.
Too gray.
Might rain.
Stomach starts to grumble. I don't know why.
I'm thinking about us on that bed.
Just sitting.
I kiss your cheek.
My pants are so loose.
They have rips on them.
On purpose.
My shirt is so tight, I like it.
TEST TAKER!
They scream.
My basketball sits out on the front porch.
Wet.
Dewy in the grass
I feel you watching me sometimes,
I wonder if you think of me.

Over the buildings and through the trees,
Under the bridges, and overseas.
Trapped in bushes and stuck on streets,
Wind pushes it with sudden beats.
From town to town city to city,
It floats with bliss and sits with pity.
All through the day it flies high,
And all through the night it passes me by.
Left and right there it goes,
Up and down row by rows.
When the day dims down to rest,
The little bag keeps going to continue his quest.

Christ is in control everything bad that happens is for a reason. So whatever you may be going through right at this very moment, stand fast do not be afraid and whatever is happening never give up. For there is a reason even if we do not know what it is, trust and stand firm.

There's a party around the block,
Where flamingos run and eggs fall from upstairs.
The roof is tumbling and the pool is overfilled with humans and animals,
There's a zebra and ten monkeys running through the house.
****** ******* is rising everywhere,
To the kitchen and the bathroom, to the backyard and the deck.
Balloons are scattered on the floor,
There's food fights in every room.
There's a car crashed into the wall,
People are running around in togas.
The music is blasting through the glass windows,
Everyone is jugging boos and sniffing toxins.
The bonfire is sparking with Barbie doll heads,
The smell of burning rubber spreads throughout the sky.
People are wild with horse masks on their heads,
They're fist pumping and thumping to the repeated beat.
Males and females are racing around **** in the halls,
Paint ***** and BB Guns are being fired on every window.
Glasses of broken bottles are lost in couches and beds,
People are swinging on chandeliers.
The walls start to buckle and shake,
Cops arrive but are being tazered with their own tazers.
The house is being tee-peed,
No one knows why the tub is on fire.
The music starts to get louder every second,
Tables and chairs are being thrown across the rooms.
There are piggy back rides on the front lawn,
Drug addicts are polluting the air with taboo smoke.
People are sliding down the stairway with helmets and pillows,
Many of the people are hung upside down unexpectedly.
Girls get dragged into the bedrooms,
Fights are happening here and there.
Some people are passed out anywhere,
Others are bungee jumping off the roof.
Furniture is left outside,
Lips are locking in the closet.
Fireworks are going off while people are dunking their heads in water,
Twerking is being done almost everywhere.
The house is a total wreck,
And the sun starts to rise over the horizon.

I don't know about you,
But this party was something new.