Is it unusual to hate life
before 20?
To not understand why
we pretty up for a party?
To focus on things that maybe
aren't JUST about me?

Is it unusual to daydream
at night?
To wish for wings, and like birds,
take flight?
To get up everyday,
and feel like
i'm losing this gift of
a fight.

Is it unusual to see everyone as a fake,
only acting, for monetary intake?
To look through old lenses,
in a new frame,
and take a dive into
my own lake?

Is it unusual to look out my window to see only plastic?

my facebook block list is full to the brim with hatred
misogynists, racists, those who use terms like "feminazi" and "it's not **** if you tell surprise first"
my Facebook block list has family members who bad mouth my mother as if she (and I) can't see it
there is one aunt who keeps a tally of money spent on gifts not asked for
one uncle who sits (joblessly by choice) on a high horse
one cousin who wonders why his mixed bag family doesn't like his confederate flag tattoo
my Facebook block list started with a man who found my phone number and began sending me text messages at night despite my non-response
there are two R names- boys whose crimes send flashbacks up my spine
a good way to earn a spot on my Facebook block list is to be a white apologist
"white people should be allowed to say the n-word!"
"slavery was like a billion years ago"
"white privilege doesn't exist"
another way is to not recant your crimes after you're called out
"she was born a girl"
"who cares, it was just a joke"
"you're not some feminist hero"
my Facebook block list (unlike most of the people on it) is non discriminatory
all types of haters get on it
and once you're on you're probably not getting off

what you see is never real

because the heart is hidden
in boxes

no one admits the way they feel

because their minds are ridden
with holes

we fall through our homes alone

because the mind is blackened
with soot

from fireplaces here 'n' there

we wallow in our blackness
hopeless

above our heads, bright light we see

a brighter light than we can
ever
be

When the night wrapped you up early
What was left?
Bones, shut eyes,
Your clothes, your flesh

And your words
Still caught in your throat
They missed the last train
Sank the last boat

Never made it to the island
Of crushed wood
The safety of the ink
To be understood

Your bones lie still now
In your designated spot
But your words reached the island
And they will never stop

For whatever world you’re in now
It’s not the same
As the ones on the paper
As the words in your viens

Oh you’ve been carried off by swans
Into the dusk
--But I’ve only just begun
To cling to your words

Light is more important than the lantern,
The poem more important than the notebook,
And the kiss more important than the lips.
My letters to you
Are greater and more important than both of us.
The are the only documents
Where people will discover
Your beauty
And my madness.