The meaning of growing up,
Perhaps lost in translation
I never realized what it meant,
To lose your innocence
And the feeling of playing catch up,
When the train had left the station.

I look at the moon and think of you.

And over time,
My pen stopped bleeding
But my heart didn't

I ruined a good day.
My stupid brain caught on fire
and it burned down everything
around me.

I am a musician
And a poet
And an artist.

I have the ear
And the mind
And the eye.

Which has qualified me to say,
Your heart and mind and physical design
Are beautiful in every way.

I hate knees
Knees hurt on the way down
the stairs to breakfast.
Knees hurt on impact
when I pray in earnest.
Knees transmit pain
signals to my brain relentless.
I hate knees.
Whether on necks
or where they belong,
on the ground.
I hate knees.