even now,
i still look for you.

i used to wonder
what it would be like
to be an adult.

to be a part of the age group
that is running the world,
to know i was equal
and to understand my responsibility.

what would it be like to be in charge
of even the most precious
of our responsibility:
the lives of our c h i l d r e n.

only to come to find out
that most adults
lack the courage and compassion
to do the job.

and in the face of
CHILDREN MURDERING CHILDREN
WITH THE ADULT'S WEAPONS
they are met with only a
cowardly silence.

everyone goes through
the  m i n u t i a
the daily grind
in a unique
arrangement of
space and time.

and you are not you and
there is no you and me
and there is no me without you.

once you comprehend your worth,
you must leave when
you cannot find
a reason to stay.

b.a | m.s.e.d

i finally understand why
he had to create
a whole persona
to explain
the
phenomenon.

i used to fear that
i was going to end up
the example to teach you
a lesson that some
other lucky woman
would benefit from.

it turns out
i had it backwards and
you are the example
of a lesson for some
other poor man
to learn from
me.

you taught me pride.
aggression.
depression.
self-involvement
lack of empathy
and
lying and
            deceit.

you taught me
not to trust
even myself.

you taught me
to doubt myself.

you taught me
to put myself down.
to see ugliness
where none existed.

you taught me the meaning of regret.
and the force of a self-obsessed
and bloated man-baby.

you are a terrible lesson.
a terrible teacher.
and not very nice, either.

i can feel that
this is a time
where i could be
folded into the
envelope of the world
in this smooth and
h e a v e n l y place.

the only reason to m a n a g e
is that your teaching
has
failed.

...and it's like
we got ALL THESE PEOPLE
and
all these ideas and
we all listen and
internalize and -
bring some back to the
group-think

but all HALF OF YOU
have to say
is to speak of
other men and
how well
they handle their ******.

when i want to remember
what it feels like
to be happy,

i close my eyes and
imagine your face.

and it never fails
to make me
smile.

then comes the return
of the sadness
of your absence.

what does it mean
when you want to
peer into the eyes of
your closest kin
and ask,
"d o y o u *recognize me?"
\"who am i???"\
"what am i like?"
because you quite simply
don't know the answers anymore?
is that ok to ask?
cuz it seems like
it's not.

self-ejection
isolation
q u e e n
a self-imposed
hibernation

slick paranoia and
wild string thoughts

i want to\b a c k s p a c e\
moonwalk
like windows closing
in succession
in a burst of
d i s b u r s e m e n t

this reality is
really a strange
derivative
of the
original

so,
sometimes,
i end my day
by rolling onto my stomach
closing my eyes
listening to Amazon play

and i imagine myself
a happy reptile,
sunning on the rocks
until tomorrow,
by the glow of
my macbook.

you break promises,
and say things you
don't mean.

yes, you.

even you.

how do i know?

i can see it
in your eyes.

you don’t know me
can’t even see me
no matter the noise
i make.

and i’ve recently
come to believe
this is all
for the best.

my beauty
has no ties to
the length
of my hair
or the
size of my waist.

and neither does yours.

but do you
       even know
that you don't
  HAVE
        to do
any of it?

the stupid,
dumb hope
of you
was enough to stop
the world
from
breaking apart completely.

that all that was needed
was to train myself
to t h i n k
steps ahead
of all
the rest,
always.

i am unable to
free myself
from the
d r e a m
of you.

(please come to order)


i'm over here BAFFLED
by the righteous
surprise of women
and poorly portrayed
shock of the gents

over the downfall
of men.

have we all been
inhabiting the same
country | culture | school | work |church| family
?

stop being foolish

and stand before the judge.

you teach your children
nothing of
*** | gender | relationships

and then are surprised by the disfunction
and shame coming to light.

we don't educate our children
with facts
so they don't know how their bodies work
and don't understand
the nuance of relationships.

girls should act like ladies
and boys shouldn't cry.

girls, be quiet and never cause a fuss.

boys, grab the world by the *****, it's yours.

and now you gasp
in surprise at the results?
please.

you hide knowledge and
options from girls
then condemn their poverty
condemn their parenting
and now wonder
where it all went wrong?

teach them to never walk alone, anywhere, EVER.
hold your keys in-between your fingers
tear out eyeballs and other *****
if you must.

maybe none of the men know
we are taught this as children?
that our entire lives revolve around
keeping ourselves safe from men.
and it is ALL our responsibility.
no matter what happens or doesn't happen,
it is somehow always a woman's fault.

fed a false narrative of the stranger
when most of the time,
is the known man
that causes the most damage.
that flies lowest under
the radar.
that has power
and influence
and the ability to hide.

but don't provoke the poor boys.
under no circumstances allow
your body to be seen,
but also don't be too covered up
(because then how will you get a man?)
jesus, guys, get with it.

[don't be sensitive]
what's an *** slap here or there by an utter stranger?
what's the big deal when a dear friend
suddenly lunges at you and grabs your **** during a normal conversation?
what's a little verbal harassment, he's old, it was normal then?
a strange call into the office?
a hand up your skirt?
it's just boys being boys.

it's time to stop this.

it's time to stop feigning ignorance.

you are responsible for this.

full stop.

just like i am.

but my silence ends today.
and i will not contribute to
a society or culture
that devalues women
for the sake of the
male ego.

stop acting surprised by men
behaving without integrity.
by criminals
and predators.
and for ****'S SAKE

stop | electing | them

i like what happens when

y e l l o w

is

next to

pink.



it is a detail of the world
that brings me joy,
and so,
it must alway be
a good thing.

i imagined myself
as a sheet of
silver metal,
with intricate designs
banged into it,

able to fold in
a multitude of
ways,

f l o a t i n g

gninrut

\floating\

in the empty space.

(but something to consider)



everything is fine.
no.worries.
it's just that*

there is a d a r k n e s s
closing in
on the edges,

and lights swirl
in the p e r i p h e r y.

today is the day

you became a covering

i simply shrugged off.

the path from
love to rage
is simple and
direct:

lies.

so when i see
the evidence of your lies
i become
neo

(   (  (  f l e x i n g  )  )   )

and the world
bends  for me.

i am centered.
-
i know what you have done.


but the world bends
for ME

not you.

just a thing
i'd like to point out
from the view
from over here

(this is what i see)

those of the
extreme right
political persuasion

continue, to this very moment,
to post made up news,
satire masquerading as news,
and articles with no sources.

your dude WON.

why do you continue to
spread lies?

do you think you will
persuade anyone
with your easy to google
pretend information?

where are the positive articles
(from credible sources)
about all your dude's
accomplishments?

(crickets)

just curious.
seems like a reasonable thing to ask.

is it ok
if i cry for you

just a little bit longer?

i keep saying that
this time
is the last
cry

but then another
thought comes
another memory
arises

and i can see your face in
the changing light
so calm
so relaxed
so beautiful

i hear your voice
in my mind
and my lip
starts to quiver

i'm sorry i am
who i am
and for whatever
i have done

i didn't even mean
to find you

i wish i didn't know
about you

sometimes
it's better not to know
and not to love.

so please,
can i just cry a little more?

because right now
i imagine that
in my last days
when
i am old and
ugly and
everyone has died

i will be alone
and remembering
the nights with you

and that thought,
i cannot bear.
not now and
not tomorrow.

i just need to
cry for you
one last time.
(ad infinitum)

i don't want to say this.
i don't even want
to think
this.

but you leave me
no other
option.

because i can't
keep doing this thing
that you do.

i guess i have to find
someone else
that knows
what farscape is.

someone
that is beyond beautiful.

that is funny.

that likes the same
movies and books
that i do.

someone that is
brilliantly smart.

witty.

surprising,

in all the best ways.

i can't imagine
there ever being
success in this
venture.

i can only see
a grim disappointment.

but what more can i do?

maybe you bank on
this cycle,
i know i do.

and you know
that i love you

so when the moment
strikes
you can discard me
and investigate
other avenues.

you know you can
circle back.

but what if you can't?

what if you can't
find me
ever again?

what if i become
lost from you
because you
pushed me
into the thick,
all by myself?

i guess you
will find out.

when i am lost,
then, you will find your love
for me.

isn't that how
it always goes?

just saying,

it's quite odd to
some of us,

(again,
just saying,
NOT a big deal,)

to watch every.
single.
god ******
decision
be made
be prioritized
by sad,
stupid,
petty
men

who also choose
what even deserves
attention
action and
consideration.

and I can't help
but think,
(being of sound mind
and body?)

what if women
had been
in charge
the last
200 years?

j/k#sonotabigdeal

i feel as though
i have been trying
to reach you
my entire life.

i tried to
hack through
your walls with
brute strength,
but only succeeded
in reinforcing
your defenses.

i tried to shine light
and warmth on you,
only to find you
recede further
into the darkness.

i tried planting flowers
along your borders,
only to find them
tore up and in disarray.

i tried to
give you wide, open space
only to
feel myself
retreat to a
smaller and
more protected
circle.

there is nothing
to do,
but attempt
to repair myself,

except the wounds
you inflict
are not acute,
but for the moment
of separation
and despair.

your wounds are chronic.
they must be controlled,
but cannot be cured.

i love you,
but in this,
you are wrong.

i love you,
but you should
lean into me,
not push me
away.

so proud
of the
forgetting,

that can only
be achieved
if i find myself
*remembering again.

a memory breaks through
to the realm
of the
| n o w |
ripping a connection
through space time
to present
a rather rude
parallel:

as a child
standing in the
smelly
echo ridden
gym
under lights with
a yellow cast.

i am in a line.
about to be chosen,
or more accurately,
not chosen
for the team.

and i realize
that my brain
has chosen this thought,
now,
of all possible thoughts,
as a cruel reminder
that i have felt
this pain before.
for my entire life.

what if
i accidentally saved
my 31 drafts
as public

and the world saw
what i wasn't ready
to reveal?

what the mere
t h o u g h t
of you
does to my body,

another man,
in the flesh
**cannot.