It was only important
to smile and hold still,
to lie down beside him
and to rest awhile,
to be folded up together
as if we were silk,
to sink from the eyes of mother
and not to talk.
The black room took us
like a cave or a mouth
or an indoor belly.
I held my breath
and daddy was there,
his thumbs, his fat skull,
his teeth, his hair growing
like a field or a shawl.
I lay by the moss
of his skin until
it grew strange. My sisters
will never know that I fall
out of myself and pretend
that Allah will not see
how I hold my daddy
like an old stone tree.

I back peddle from a paper pedestal, hoping for the best, hoping you don't intend to inspect the wreckage I have left.

I am temptation at its test, an exclamation on contempt, collecting the regrets to my exemptions under stress.

A misnomer to my bets, against the better judgments I neglect, I'm set in my ways, in lucid forays, I've let from my veins,

and I've slept, the whole ******* way.

I must take note,
of how the people lie,
their dastardly twists and turns,
their shifting and conflicting emotions,
spiraling out of C O N T R O L,
their faces grim, as the enigma is made,
they paradoxed their words and actions, and all I,
and all I am for, it a laughter under my mask.

I must take note,
for if I don't, I won't be able to detect a group's actions,
they could cause the destruction of my dynasty,
I had set up in my mind,
I deliberately made a world of hope for those who need it,
I who is king, I who is God,
I, who is the only citizen,
they must not find out, and corrupt it,
for I will go hysterical.

I must take note,
of the weather,
what makes the spherical mass in space,
and the biodiversity in it continue to go forward,
for the blades of grass that cut me like a knife,
or the indifference of the flowers lovers give to us,
or the emotions, the physical strain,
that is made within the weather,
how my bones ache in the sun,
and how my emotions contrast in the rain.

I must take not,
or I shall parish,
or I shall meet my demise,
whether it be at the hands of the blades of grass,
or the conspiracies made from the liars,
or the people,
for I will meet my expiry,
the storybooks have told me so.

Sticks and stones my break my bones
but words may never leave me.

My mother should be an author
She carves her soul into millions of pieces
Leaving it behind all of the family photos
When I see my mother
I see a woman
Who wants to hide her soul in a needle
Just so the screaming can stop in her mind,
These bottles are rattling in the living room
You see they have put shackles on her heart,
She can't love anymore
Without having ***** in her water bottle.

Where is she hiding her beer?
I feel like my mother is giving me a scavenger hunt
From the shards of glass that were left on the baseball fields
My mother used to take me to.

You know she always wasn't like this
She was strong minded and had a big heart
Tonight I will tell you the story of a woman
Who lost her soul to the Keystones to the Miller Lites
To the ****** Mary’s.
Let's rewind time
See ******* the soul in ten years

10- I look into my mother's eyes and I start to cry
Because I'm looking at a woman who I don't know anymore

9- I refused to bail her out of jail again
Because I'm afraid her kidney will fail if she drinks again

8- My mother staggered into the theater and disrupted the whole play,
My cast mates turned to me and asked, isn't that your mother?

7- I had to hold my mothers hand
Because she was throwing up the cocktail of drugs and alcohol

6- Daddy had to get mom out of jail she was drinking again

5- My mother throws the bottle across the room
And told me the reason why she drinks is because I'm Autistic

4- My mother overslept for my piano recital,
I didn't think it was a big deal
But I remember she spent the whole night crying
With a wine glass in her hand.

3- Mommy I didn't know your prescription came in a needle

2- Mommy the prescription say 2 pills a day
why are you taking 6?

1- My mother went to the doctor
Found out that she has Rheumatoid Arthritis
I don't know what that means,
But I know she will still be strong right?

0- She took me to a Dodger game for my birthday.
I remember Sammy Sosa hitting a home run that game
She told me that the only person that can **** your soul is yourself

today i was hidden behind change
behind little things like
nail polish and a hair cut
(everyone says the hair cut is a big thing)
but tomorrow what can i hide behind
besides lies and a china doll grin
and sunglasses to hide when my eyes
get watery from feeling too much
and i can hide behind my bangs and my hands
but i am still there
and i can still be found
i can hide in the ceiling because someone in it cares
for me
but i am hidden behind a wall of demons
of sins who keep people out
of my heart and soul
and mind
oh my mind
if anyone found the true thoughts in my
mind
they would send me away
again
and i would no longer be hidden
i would be in white
not in the darkness i call home
and all the time people would stare at me
and poke and **** and pull and push
like that man who hides himself
in a stuffy room
in nightmare ville
that place that smelt like the ocean when it rains
and blood and sweat and insecurity
and sounded like sniffles and muffled shouts
and screams but only i heard those
and it tasted like sadness and fear and electricity
and it felt like a blanket a wet blanket
that suffocated me
they'll poke and **** and push and pull me like
the man who hides there did
if i come out of hiding
so i wont.
i will stay hidden
i am hidden
except for now. now i am showing, but now i am leaving.

r.c.

The battles are over. Blood has been shattered on all territories. The kaleidoscope reflects the broken dreams of the refugees. I do not wish to remain in this place. The complexity in the surroundings imbibes a negative vibe in my soul and corrupts my lungs. The weight of living is breaking my bones. My imaginative capabilities seem to vanish in the haze with the smoke coming out from chimneys. The heat around is bringing things to an end. We are parting ways. I'm standing at crossroads neither side will take me to a better place. The juvenile existence of a paradoxical levity brought us back again. I'm sitting in this cold room, torpid in one corner. A ray of light coming in through a hole in the wall and reflecting all the dust in me, in my thoughts. I'm trying to fathom the reason of existence if these entities and writing with a pen stolen from my masters chamber. But all I wanted to do was spill red ink all over the axioms.