A living "still picture" if you're living,
A once lived "still memory" if you're dead!!

when i was a kid
i always wonder why the moon kept following me
is she my best friend?
my protector during the nights i walk alone?
until  i grew older
and find her presence my peace
started telling her my secrets and dreams
sometimes we share our tears
we will talk all night
together we will fall asleep

I see birds fly
from this concrete predicament
faces in ****** hands
I hurt and I cry
my hands are wet
trapped
on Pilates plateau
a place where bugs die.

What would I teach a poet?
to write with your feet
so you won't miss a beat
to keep the page neat
and pretend to be sweet
that rhyming all the lines
is poetry dressed to the 9's
that reading it aloud
always makes you proud
to not pretend and let
the **** thing end

The water talks for me
it hopes so much
to be held