my brother calls a stoplight the math brain of god.  my best friend bites the apple that once controlled the minds of sheep.  scenes from your childhood bring back mine.  her memory is all she can think about.

if the poor could keep to themselves, they’d have superheroes.  hey man, hey beast, them aliens already know what it means to be human.  abduction is the fingerprint of loneliness.  

-

what I teach my blood is grow up.  I put everything I had into ruin.  watch as my mother becomes your mother trying to be two people god can use to carry tug-of-war from a fossil.

-

my dream house is language.  you say it to my face how there are beheadings that have made a wish.  before my son was a giant, he’d somersault.  cigarette in mouth he would.

trained
to be homesick
the animals
disappeared.  dad advised

we get out
the way
of frost, let it get

to what it’s got
to chew.

we stayed inside mostly and hollered
loud enough
for mailmen
to hear

nicknames
like little
baby
bathwater
my favorite

from the year
god’s voice
changed.

01:52 am
have you ever asked yourself like why you so lonely?*

01:53 am
or empty?

that maybe you give too much of your essence to people and never leave any of you for yourself

01:55 am
i know i do

02:05 am
and like that's maybe why i get so attached to humans

because in them,
i find myself

02:07 am
i need to change, because things shouldn't be this way

02:10 am
but it's hard sometimes you know, when most days you don't leave the house because you feel unworthy of the space you take up

02:16 am
so you'd much rather disintegrate into soil because you've become all too familiar with people stepping over you and admiring the outcome of your beauty but never the roots of your pain

02:19 am
i spend so much effort watering people in order for them to grow and hardly get enough sun shine to feed my own soul

02:25 am*
because i don't know how to do anything else but care for everyone but myself

when last have i had a 3am kind of conversation,
with my star like emotions scattered all over the darkest parts of me,
mimicking the sky,
my moon like persona that always returns back to hiding me away.  
when last have i felt safe enough to let somebody in,
to not have visions of my vulnerability being tied to the bed after he locks the door behind him,
his voice like some sort of broken record that keeps on repeating that
"it's gonna be okay."
when last have i had a shoulder to cry on that isn't my own,
for my neck to stop worrying that the tear filled sea on either side won't get waves big enough to drown me.  
when last okay,
when last has it felt good to be me.

what's wrong with you ?
they ask me all  the time.
i'm wrong  with me ,
i'm too much to live with .

He made sure to show I belonged to him.
And of course his trade mark,
was a bruise.

i often times get distracted from myself
by the person i like to think that i am

she's a ******* catch
     a cash-in-hand
     done-deal find
worth every dime

i'm tangled up line
     woven into the creek-bed
that couldn't even catch the sunlight

but it's alright

     i got a few coats of gold krylon
hiding my rust from the mirror