Touch me,
it doesn't matter where
and it doesnt matter how
I need to know I'm still alive
so someone touch me now
Shake my hand and say hello
or pat me on the back
kiss me on the cheek
that I may feel this sense I lack
slap my face and pull my hair
make me bleed I just don't care
dig your nails into my skin
so I can feed this need within
I've been numb for such a time
that even pain would be sublime
so touch me, touch me now
I don't care where, I don't care how

i used to think
that in order to think
i would have to stop
believing

i used to think
that in order to believe
i would have to stop
being

but really
i just needed
to let myself be
honest and loved

I'll stand by you
Through hell storm
And through Heaven's Gates
Let you know
I love you
And hold you close
As long you allow me
And let me rest easy
Knowing my heart has a safe place

i'm 9 in nairobi
playing foosball with a masai man
whose lip and earlobe
(both well-stretched)
bounce against his face,
he hangs lip over nose,
ears over ears,
we play on

funny, those kinds of scars
began with young women,
east african, who
fearing ****
and kidnap
from the north,
cut holes
in lip, in earlobe,
lifted skin of stomach
to slice smooth turtleshell shapes,
rubbed camel dung in wounds for better

scars,
which meant:
resistance, meant:
freedom, meant:
don't take me away,
don't steal my life.
funny
those scars
mean beauty now.
funny, these scars
on my wrist, funny how
much i love life now.
funny scars

I still sport his letter-man
but not for it's vintage fit
I tried so hard
wanted to be just like him
from his walk to his cool talk
I even changed my hair

Crumbling beneath the pressure
It's lonely forced upon that pedestal
It started with hope in the form of a pill
told himself it would alleviate the symptoms

Suffering in silence it was a long way to fall
As he spiralled down his usage went up
All he craved was something more
That snow, that brick, that blow

With one final **** to the dome
His high his eyes closed shut
He tried so hard to drown his demons
He didn't know they could swim

There are days I still want to be like him
Just like him but a stronger man
His walk, his talk
He should know in my eyes
His pedestal still stands

in a Me society
you stand on my broken back
to climb

in a We society
you share roof & blanket
we look at stars, both warm

in a We society
you share knowledge,
story, guitar

for the good
of everyone because
it's not about Me

in a Me society
you are showing off
if you do that

unless you are making money
(can someone explain this
to me?)

everyone though is always free
to be a Me
or a We

and life America
despite what you say
is not a competition

come be
a We
with me

An old man is sprawled
across my steps, in the night,
shouting for cigarettes,
crying out—as he does—
Lord, have mercy on a poor man’s soul.

**** or be killed.
That’s how it was
in North Vietnam.
He’d said that and pulled out London dry gin
to wash away only God knows what thought that got in--
I do not understand him
but I understand him
better than I used to.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst to do right.
Have you ever collapsed the bridge under which you slept?
Leapt from your bed when the earthquake hit
or lay awake in it when the kids came to school
with black eyes and suicide eyes?

Blessed are the poor in spirit
but the kingdom hasn’t come yet
and the children are too beautiful for their own good
and I am not good enough.

I am on Your steps, crying
Lord have mercy
on Your poor kingdom

I have traveled back in time
Or maybe I have dreamt this place in 1987

A bank
My mother a teller
In the middle of a divorce
Or maybe the divorce hasn’t happened yet

My father walks in
He is a security guard
College dropout
Ex-marine
Loves fighting as much as I do

She never went to college
Maybe she thinks he is mysterious
He prevents a robbery
Beats a man in the parking lot

He flirts with her over a coffee break
And this is the part where everything goes fuzzy
Because I could never see my father as a charming man

I want to tell them to stop
If love at first sight
Cared enough to have foresight too
They’d stop

Maybe they were nice people once
If we all knew what we’d one day become
We could fix things

I want to tell them that they will have children
I want to tell them about the things that they will do to these children
And then to themselves
And back and forth and back and forth
Like a pendulum made of knives and soft things

But I do not exist in this place in 1987
And even if I did

I want to live
I want to live