Your skin smells like sharpie and the third
page of my sketch book. How it glows in
the dark reminds me of this one mermaid
whose hair keeps falling. I don't know how
she isn't bald yet. She does not cry, her
milky eyes seem to be so calm yet so
immoral, pearl-like greasy beam like some
oil spills on the ocean.

You have eyes like marine birds and that is
what truly makes me afraid.

Your nose is a branch of that fig tree I
killed during the last time I was trying to
find Narcissus. I remember that that day
Echo and I cried like mermaids and from
our eyes fell pearls and we did not wonder
at all why it did not hurt. It was a good
sign, kind of good like caution wet floor.
You know how I wish I could hang it in
front of my bedroom door.

You keep biting your lips only to keep the
blood flowing. I cannot say that I have
never seen waterfall as iron as that. I only
can give you tons of salt and you can use
that on your lips at midnight or when you
wake up from a nightmare at 4 a.m.

You grow hibiscus on your throat and
every time you speak all I can hear is the
pink and yellow and red and ants.

You have breath like motion sickness and
the dusty bench in front of the library. I will
go inside and become a ****** book 'til the
rest of my life. I will stay as pure as ever
when I am burned along with the library.

Your ears sound like lullaby and world war
three. You see, history is falling asleep so
peacefully, just like Mother Teresa or
Gandhi.

Bugs bitten skin deep soul
[I slept on lot of empty plastic bottles]
Salted eyeballs, a chopstick
Two, they always asked for two
[Stamped]
White chalks, bitter coughs
Childhood! Roses and a caterpillar
I had taught myself not to cry
Grown like gecko, became huge as *** of fears
Empty cocoon
Music box, grandmother, her smile and mole
[Nice pass, basketball]
Please turn off the lights and lock the window
[Too fat, though]
I wondered what more I could ask for
How perfect, monochrome
I was born, the world
[Moths are beautiful too]
Hey hey oily feathers
Butterflies cannot fly too high after all
It was never battle scars the ocean loved
[Eyeballs, remember eyeballs]
Forked
Babies and the steps
Climb your stairs, lungless
[Eyes were the most burned]
Chest, o Christmas tree and wedding cake
Claps, stories of mockery
Photographs, memories, what stays and fades
[The bridge saw you and fell in love--
I was crossing it
I was crossing it]

Do you even know
that I still write about you?
Blue moon, cats, o you!

Is it the music
or your voice that hurts the sky?
[I beg you, don't cry.]

It is her left eye,
opens wider in cloudy
nights. [It will not rain.]

It is never you,
you aren't an idea
nor 2 a.m. thought.

I cannot eat without a friend
and I haven't showered in days.
That is why I write, I guess.

I do not brush my teeth anymore but
when we were staying over
I brushed them two times a day.
That is how I write;
so human.

My tongue tastes stale and my scalp
feels like a bathroom rug.
I've never listened to music this much before.
I did not like sounds. Still don't.
I hope my ears would bleed so I could write about it.

Oh I only can write;
so human.

I do not read. Do not speak nor hear.
That is why I write.

There were days when I could not write.
There will be more.
More. More. I hope it's not today.

I only can write!

Mama, I do not want to eat
and I don't want you to know it.

I am glad you do so well without me
but too bad, fears aren't what stay like rocks.
They breathe like fire and grow like children.
I lost them once and they never come back,
o my poor lost children I still love them!

Mama, I just took a proper shower.
I know I should not be so proud, but
the water was black and so cold and the soap and shampoo were mocking my filthy skin.
I was strong. I am strong.
I am glad you do so well without me.

I was Mother Mary once, you did not know it.
You have lots of grandchildren but I lost all of them so I cannot show you how they have grown like haunted trees and abandoned churches.
You taught me motherly love, Mama,
not how to prove it.

I became a garden but the minerals kept falling from
the pores and eyes. I could not be good soil.
The hibiscus and jasmine and frangipani I wanted to grow
are now as dead and confused as my chest.

My head is one native tomb.
How could I not find a name?

I am doing very well, Mama.

Just that I kept thinking I am at home.

My eye of storm; she
had taken my storm away even
before I was born.

Hot bath, food poisoning and sour breath;
I made it all
up inside my head.

The freshness of youth
hits my face like sweet sea tides.
Wake up, girl! Just be younger today.
Your dying soul -- it is not rotten
yet.

We do not have summer nor winter,
girl, you decide your own season.

Eat well, sleep enough, brush your teeth, wash your hair, go to shower!
And clean laundry, honeybee, as important as cheery selfie.

Small thing by small thing,
I know you can do it.
Never again let your books cry at night, pretty.
Read them, all of them.

Go to school
to make friends.
Do your silly homeworks.
Don't listen to your teachers,
just read. Read your books,
read them, all of them.
Don't change major. You know where you
are
going to.

Small thing by
small thing. Easy! You are bigger than those
small things.

Your time being old is over,
daisy, now you may
be
young
forever.

We knew him well
his jest
most excellent
alas, not infinite

Where be your gibes now?
Your gambols? Your songs?
Your flashes of merriment,
that were wont
to set the table on a roar? (Hamlet, V.i)

We laughed,
we cried
amused and touched

Borne on your back,
anguish unspoken

Poor Yorick.

r ~ 8/12/14

two moons, but still
the night is dark-
wild dogs bark at a sky
that I don't understand

there's a tent revival
down by the river-
preacher duane says the light
from the reflection
will be good for the soul

I don't want to go, momma
I don't want to go

two moons are confusing
though the sound is soothing
as it shines through my radio

wild dogs are barking-
my head is swimming-
at the river they're gathering-
and the people are singing-
and the preacher is praying-
and the light is reflecting-

I don't want to go, momma
I don't want to go

I see two moons,
momma...

two moons.

r ~ 8/27/14