In this life
we are sculpted down
to bone
burned to cinders
and our ash
tossed without regret
into the four winds

I wish I could live.
Be a man.
Find comfort in the sun.

But every cell in my body
revolts against time
cries out against the sun
speaks in tongues
for the sole purpose
of creating an outrage
against God.

Oh Lord!
How did you make us thus?
And why?
Above all
why?

We are made metal
and in the end
alloy with the sun.

Our breath is drawn
to fuel that fire
bring life to a boil
and
if luck prevails
to wake each morning
in comfort
and with a smile.

Perhaps the last sweet smile.

Watch me as I fall
without you.
I've spent years
perfecting this dark energy;
you are not the first
to leave me longing.
Watch closely.
I can build a statue
from ashes,
inhabit order
surrounded
by chaos.
Watch as I consume,
without myself,
myself.
I can fall,
but I cannot fail.
Watch.
You only scratched
the surface
of who I was
and am,
but you let loose this
agony -
my flood,
my fuel.

Imagine your hand is
one hundred days older
Than the hand you use now.
Look at your hand.

What will that hand hold,
in one hundred days from now?
What will that hand have push away
that changes the next one hundred days?

Your hand is younger than it is now
than it will be in one hundred days.
In one hundred days, this hand will
mould and shape and change each way.

This hand is the age you are now,
and this hand is not eternal.
This hand helps you to write and pick up
what you need; reflexes from danger, sometimes.

One hand in one hundred days may be
marked, with a burn or scar or a tattoo.
The other hand may be softer, because
you wore gloves or moisturised by choice.

Or maybe this hand in one hundred days
Will be blistered, from harm you fought with wonder.
Maybe this hand is a blessing forgotten
And you reach for another coffee.

So why are you so focused
on what happened one hundred days ago?
The hand moves, clenches, rests, changes,
like time too.

I want to lay bare the fire in me
before the spectators
I want to be the wisps of smoke
flying through their faces
unfettered
unfazed
liberating what lies entrapped
forever.

confidence flows through
my body like a river as i
press my foot on the gas
going faster and faster

i take a deep breath as i
feel the wind in my hair
as the music blares through
the speakers

i am doing it
i am a good driver
everything is okay
i finally feel free

Someday you’ll love you.
From the sparkle in your eye,
To the pitch of your laugh,
Even the color of your hair.

You will love every part,
From every wrinkle,
To every crinkle,
Every part of you.

But they will try to tear you down,
To make you frown,
To make you think you’re not worth it.

But darling you listen to me.

From the way you walk,
To the way you talk,
You will be mocked,
But don’t you listen.

From your weight,
To your height,
You are all wonderful to me.

Maybe one day you’ll see,
The beauty I see.
The way you were made,
So beautifully.

But until then,
Do not forget,
On how true beauty,
Comes from within.