I'm not here
to testify

I'm not here
to mystify

I'm not here
to justify

I didn't come here
to classify

I didn't come here
for no donkey ride

I feel out-side
I feel outside

I only came her
because my dog has died

As you lay helpless
Upon the hardened concrete
Let me be of use

Today I bled blue
Poems inked upon my bare arms
Await translation

I think he’s into you.
Why didn’t you talk to him?
“I was trying to make a good impression.”

Tonight, she taught me the nature of healing summer rains
Whimsical descriptions of dancing in puddles, but
Metaphors only serve to drown her pain
Dry on the surface, swearing inside the drought sustains
But dew droplets in her eyes betray her restraint
The morning after, the storm remains

Little flower, bent at the stem
Oversaturated by the self-absorbed
Her waterlogged roots weighing her down, but
In fields of bloom they still look to you
See, the weak reach for the easily used green and blue tulip hues
But her yellow petals require strength to be pulled from the meadow