if i were president
i would tell my people
and make them
know that
if you have more
give more
and
if you have less
give more
because
it makes you feel better.

if i were president
i would give
all the foreclosed homes
in America
to the homeless.
when people feel safe,
they feel better
they would grow
and participate in society
they would no longer be homeless.

if i were president
i would tell my people
and make them
know that
societies norm
the one that
we are all scared of
but hide it,
the one that makes us feel judged,
and misunderstood,
that society
should not
and will not
define how we think
because we are stronger than that.

if i
were president
i would be a leader
act like
a leader
talk like
a leader
and be an example
for future leaders.

when i become president.

Indignant. Can’t rid myself of this feeling.
Anxious. My blood pressure rises to the ceiling.
Risk. Assessing the situation.  Your caustic venom I wager.
Numb. As you unleash your anger.
Undeserving. I am not a whipping post. My sanity’s in danger.
Undone. I unravel, broken, before the one I love most.
Volatile.  With mood swings, your ramblings become more verbose.
Patience. Mine is infinite but wearing thin.
Hypocritical. We find every excuse to hide ourselves in.
Resolve.  I won’t go down without a fight.  
Spent.  My nerves, as I try to make this right.
Vexed. You drag me down to your level with every low blow.
Drowning**.  I am caught in your tempestuous undertow.

I tend to shy away from makeup
I rarely pick up spray or brush
My heart is in flesh beating
and will one day turn to dust

I don't want to put forth creme facade
so you grimace when it rains
the trails of salt from filmy tears
are all that streak my face

If foreign objects draw you
jeweled tones upon the eyes
I do not fault your fancy tastes
or call concealer lies

But love is not burst into fire
by the curving of a kohl stick
And cheeks that redden with a kiss
are all that I would wish
to feed the flame upon the wick
that brightens and brings higher
two souls too bright to miss

15-10-19
I want you to read this.
Know that I'm a psychopath.
It would be easier if you hated me for creeping up your neck.
For holding a snare around your ankle.

For being obsessed and inhuman.

If I'm not human. If I'm not real. I cannot be hurt.
And since your opinion matters the most in this hour, tell me I'm surreal. So I can surrender.

~

Barefoot.  
Floor.
I wish you could see me now.
Slowly moving my body to his lyrics.
"Oh mother I can feel.."*

Breath in my mouth so I won't die.
If that lust is too mad.
Then bury my flesh and mind among the soaked leaves.
As long as your skin grab my limbs, I'm fine.

A yellow fever burns with anger.
Mothers fill with a sense of danger.
As towns die and graveyards grow,
A carpenter’s child waits for snow.
Many lives this fever will take.
While others say this horror is fake.
This carpenters child is the only smart one.
For this fever only strikes on a hot days sun.
When winter comes and cools the air
the fever’s anger will disappear.
In the winter it hibernates.
So, dear child please wait.
In a land they is free
Yellow Fever struck in 1793.