I’m addicted
To lying with gentlemen
Breathing unrestricted
To surface every now and then

Second amendment rights
Cigarettes & car rides
Away from bright city lights
In the dark society confides

An early morning fire
Pass me a burning ****
Bring me all the higher
Remove societies’ yoke

I leaned over and picked up
the flower he had discarded.
The crumpled petals still soft like velvet
bore creases and bruises
from the punishing treatment.
I saw him walking,
red faced and somber
aimless and alone
as he was leaving the park.
She had told him she needed time.
He heard her say no--and
his impatience born of
self-absorption
completely belied his intent--
to express undying love for her.
The quarrel over, she retreated,
while the unsuspecting flower
bore the brunt of his aggression.
Pity him? Pity her?
It was beyond my power.
I only saw the flower.
And as I thought about it
through wet and thoughtful eyes
I saw the flower in my hands
loose its outer petals, one by one.
It's core untouched, like a miracle,
the once bruised and crumpled mass
turned into a beautiful bud once more
and smiled on me
with the last rays of the afternoon.

J. Sandy

I.

A twitch,
a slight itch on my arm.
Colors blur-
a child's scribbles
outside of the lines.

A burning heat in my pocket-
a needle to inject
that chemical freedom.

Sweaty palms
and a serpent whispering
into my ear.

Throw it away.
Light it up, friend,
Four days
it’s been far too long.
sober.

Escape!  Just let go.


II.

Wonderful, wonderful, I am nature!
I am designated to be brave!
To grow tall!
And you will never comprehend me.

I am a cure for history!
I’m an inspiration!
A beautiful scene!
All dreams and no panic.
I’m all rock and roll and cool waves.

I am a revolution!
¡VIVA LA REVOLUCIÓN!
I am a trend you were so afraid to bring back.
Everyone was wrong!

I will not be changed,
and I will go out with a bang…

III.

A bed,
shivering and white.
Lights.
Bright, sterile lights
flickering softly like trapped fireflies in a mason jar.

The faith chirp
of machines.
A flatline drones, dark and red.
I’m bound by tubes and cuffs and –

Oh God.

How many kids have died in this hospital bed?