i sat outside for a long time
and contemplated suicide
i smoked cigarette after cigarette
growing frustrated as i reached the end of my pack
i took drink after drink, unaware of the heaviness my head was causing me
i was already hazy, so i didn't notice the tears that were blinding me
i thought of how many people would attend my funeral
i pondered if i should even leave a note
i wondered desperately how many people loved me
i grew more anxious when i realized there was none
i passed out outside, under the moon and star light
i knew that by now i was so drunk that i could end it without a second thought
yet in the morning, i awoke still alive
i often wonder why i want to die
i wonder why i haven't done it by now
i wonder -
what a life,
always thinking of suicide

never fall in love with a boy who
speaks in lavender soliloquy and
smells like cigarettes and melancholy;
whose kisses leave you in nirvana and
whose flesh lays in some lovely façade;
for he is a poet, a philosopher, and a believer
whose mind will disappear into breathless purgatory
when you're not even looking
and by the time you'll find out
you'll already have lost him somewhere,
between wandering verbosity,
and ashen wordlessness

these colors don't run, they say
don't tread on me, they say
heritage not hatred, they say
as the blood of our black american children
runs down the drain
and the necks of
muslim men are snapped in the street
and the backs of
hispanic women are broken in the fields
and how can it be "heritage, not hatred"
when the flag of your heritage
is the epitome of hatred?

I think sunset is the most dangerous time
When we all stand staring at colors in the sky
Forgetting
The sunrise to new reds, pinks, and oranges

The blue sky is forgotten
And the way the rays beat upon our skin
Harming
Our lips leaving cracks and parched tongue

Do we remember the swaying grass?
The boulders that lay along the path
Blocking
Us from the cool relief of the ocean

Our muscles burned with new adventure
The wind kissed us and we kissed back
Wishing
For a little more time and a little less

No one thinks of the birds' conversation
Their brief melodies spawned passion
Developing
Attachment or shedding what little we had

I still remember the blues of the sky
But now our shadows stretch longer
Losing
The feeling of noon's light and heat

I still feel the sandman's kiss in my eyes
The subtle and hopeful beginning
Rising
Eagerly so that I may see the sunset