Her perfect smile,
Shines brighter than his.
But he is what everyone expects I want.
He is what everyone expects I need.
But she is so beautiful,
She's everything I desire.
I wonder if she ever sees me
and
Thinks the same.

Hopes of a future never to come pass.
Cutting of thread leaving a trail of red.
Comforting lies, take on vengeance’s plasse.
Callow certainty leading my bloodshed.

Essence refusing change, oil and water.
Dripping maroon, satisfies my sweet tooth.
Lost track of my goal, now it's a slaughter.
Enciphered desire, immiscible youth.

As I let go sorrow’s waters -- forlorn,
See me with your purest eyes, unerring
Touch of a mother’s hand, I am reborn.
Sins, a raven’s coat, heavens are glaring.

And as I lay my vision ridden red,
How foolish to lead to one’s own bloodshed.

her love was everything I knew
until the world recognized her worth
and she was ripped away from me
I don't wish for her
I wish to be worthy of her

"Become perfect."
My eyes are glazed over
Delicate glass tears blur my vision
"Yes,
I promise."

eyes a steely blue
skin a bone white
the lights red and blue
the air taut and tight
my fathers skin is brown
mine is fair and white

the white man calls the fuzz
the neighbors are a buzz
the man reported kidnap
feels just like a slap
we've been caught
in the white man's trap

My suicide felt like an escape,
waking up felt like a sentence.

Married to death in words only,
falling asleep felt conjugal.

Night visits,
brief moments of peace,
before being thrown into
the deep end.

Death had grown me in captivity,
making me forget how to survive.

I had become dependent
on death's solace.

I sobered myself to reality,
death's sweetness
oscillated in ways
too unpredictable
for comfort.

Life treats me better
than death ever did.

Although there are moments,
where I wish to return into the blankness of death,
into the carelessness of nothing.

I remember how far I've come,
and how proud I would be,
to look into the future and see,

that I love life.

How ironic,
To write poetry
That speaks of
Love
As if it were a familiar friend.
I write the thoughts too large and complex to store in my head alone.
I have not yet found
'My person.'
But I write as if we have known each other forever.
Maybe,
In the end there is no one for me.
But until hope is lost,
I write about you.
A person that I haven't met.

My person.

a smile --- like a star
fools only from afar

her iris leaked its blue
out the socket
and onto the concrete

dandelions round them
but not one
could wish away
the girls tear

Dew drops placate
the hungry grass

Sun--breaking night's serenity
leaving us forgetting ebony

Fire bugs breathing
in star luminance

Moon--who prefers to assuage
lovingly dims the Sun's immanent rage

To be loved is to be stripped down to your core. Until the truth is exposed and you're an open book.
And then be accepted.
Not for the persona you created, or the fake meaningless words you use to impress, not the clothes you wear, the way you part your hair, or anything of the sort.
But to be accepted in your pure state of self truth.
That is love.

Eyes, like a blue clouded sky, raining bright rays of yellow sunlight.

Iris framing a soul's song,
a black pearl for which I long.

Skin peeled off of muscles,
the snapping and cracking of ones shell.
The splitting screams of the tortured
mimic the crackle of bones and
the grinding of eyes.

My stomach hurdles over these seemly Insignificant tasks.
With every attempted hop I stumble.
Something as simple as washing dishes feels insufferable.
The bubbles don't hug me as they did when I was smaller.
They mock me knowing that I cannot do something so simple.
Life is a river and I'm just a twig along for the treacherous ride.
I'm swept away.
My feet cannot provide me stability, they don't root themselves into the soil like everyone else does,
effortlessly.

the birth mark on your left shoulder
reminds me of how some things stay when we’re older

looking back tears wouldn’t have helped
wounds bound up by doubt

Sometimes they yell,

"WORTHLESS!"

And I listen,
Because

"Listening is the polite thing to do."

O man of might
O man of mirror
how does one
****** their fear?

1.Wake up and drag yourself out of your comfort.
2. Put on your persona of the day, channel what you lack until it feels real.
3. Force yourself to speak, you wouldn't want to be left alone.
4. Crawl back into your comfort and waste away in your room.
5. Try to sleep, block out the thoughts, plead with the voices for a moment of silence.
6. Repeat.

Does crying out
in a blank world
make me selfish

Selfish to want someone
just so they can hear
my screams

Legs more fragile than glass.
You pluck them off one by one.
This is why the other kids keep their distance.

The Sun beams down blessing the white curtains with a holy sort of light,
delicate undulant pristine waves of silk,
frame the green leaves that peek out,
gentle and humble,
yet
commanding the eye to gaze upon them,
aware of their beauty,
manage to give vanity allurement.

i’m addicted to beauty
i no longer want my poetry
to remind me
of the ominous goal
that you can never understand

"you know no one likes you, right?"
The girls stared,
one with malice,
the other with pity.

Candy wrappers,
Dripping red.
Gum drop purple knees.
Salty.

You are the moose on the wall.
Hollow of all liveliness,
barren of all thought.

He grabbed my thigh
I removed his hand --- I had to try
he just made his grip fortified
what did I expect --- he's a bad guy
but now my interest is bone-dry
I'm leaving him behind, along with his lies
always visiting with black eyes
always something gone awry
I'm sick of having to pry
you continued to pretend to clarify
your dumb alibis
baby,
bye-bye

Girls of greatness must make haste,
for men of the very same stature start up a few pace!

we are waves clashing,
to a pinnacle
from which we either fall into each other,
or
veer away.

and we both know,
what I want.

Opinions,
Knives impaling frail muscles.
Their weight becomes,
Much to cumbersome.