“It’s the new sensation that’s gripping the nation!”
It is the greatest thing humanity has ever seen,
a phone with a touch screen…

Everyone has one now,
it’s as normal as having fingers
an extension of our arms.

Pinterest, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr…
all have to be checked, watched, updated.
I have to spill my guts to a screen behind which hides strangers.

“I know you. from Facebook.”  That’s what they all say.
The thing is I don’t know you,
you are the person who found me through a mutual friend
a mutual friend of a mutual friend.

I don't know you,
You haven’t updated your feed in months.
you know me though.

Last week on twitter you saw I had posted that I was feeling depressed.
Two nights ago on Instagram that picture of me at a party
today at lunch, on Facebook I posted a tribute for my second cousin.
a mutual friend.

there is no sensation…
I have a callous on each of my fingertips
the overheating screen no longer burns my hands.
the glow no longer irritates my eyes.

The phone with a touch screen,
sending us information from all of time and space
From love and tragedy.
From the good and bad

Every day I post what happens in my life.
the good the bad and the ugly
as cliche as it is there is no other way to say it.

Everyday I read about other people’s happy endings and good deeds
I read about the people who have conquered the world’s evils.
then I open a new tab and read about the ones who lost.
The girl who gave into the need of some comfort and let him do it
The boy who believed that he was so unloved he jumped it
The girl who starved to death so she could be skinny in the casket
The boy who is hurt by his parents so he hurts others to make up for it
The girl who finds the razor behind the shelf in the bathroom and uses it
The boy who takes the drugs to escape it
The girl who goes to prison for stealing it
The children who don't know what to do.

Because that’s the truth,
this is what the phone has done.
we can’t feel anymore.
there is no emotion in a text message.
on social media.

there are only empty word of condolences and congratulations
the only honest thing online is hate
hate to another person because you can’t stand the idea
That they can still feel
and you lost that ability when you let the phone pull your soul out and dump it in a database
called Facebook, Instagram, and twitter.

They own you now,
they tell you what you are
who you are
and who you’re going to be.

the world’s greatest invention is what’s going to **** us.

I feel the warm
morning sun;
The water envelopes my ankes -
as each wave melts to the shore, I run.

Towards the open, endless sea
- I surrender.
To her above
or is it below?

Her words echo in the chambers of my soul;
I know that look
- it reaches into me.
Maybe, with her;
Eventually, with her.

I have tried too many times
reaching out my hand with no kind returns
pulling back my hand to find
just broken fingers, scars, and burns

Some people are into strange, really into it.

So I had my fair share of spikers, the kind that are into strange.

They thought of Me as a tool, a new territory, waiting to be harnessed.

The go to guy for weirdly scrambling.

I longed for someone, someone to touch and to call my own; someone who won't leave me.

I didn't realize I was conjuring up exactly what I wanted,

a disaster, a high magnitude tsunami waiting to sweep through my life.

Waiting to wash away all that remained (all that I held) dear.

A tsunami that would ruin us all.





It certainly occurs,

taking with it, souls uncountable.

Insignificant to the whole, irreplaceable and heart wrenching to the few.

The result of my wistful wishing,

a dead black cloud hangs above, heavy and misty.

A waiting jar about to pour out its contents, be they bitter or sweet it knows not.

Funny, as the hearse walks me to my resting place, all I see is black, bleak and dark.



I tarry by the corner, listening to the waves splash with a whiplash against the rocks,

I look down to see how the people I knew are faring without me.

There are tea parties and a lot of ambience.

As my flesh lays there, clothed but bare to the coffin's hard-feel;

too cold to feel these things I felt,

too dead to even take notice of the crickets squeaking just above my grave,

the incessant annoying whispers of the nocturnal dwellers, shallow and loud,

alive in the moonlight,

I wonder how anyone could ever rest in peace.

I have a story. But it’s going to sound like a bad one.
I know I’m not good at them, I make them boring and start to ramble on and use run on sentences but that’s just because I don’t know how to say what I’m trying to become --
Like that.
****.
But yeah. Here goes-

I was lost in a crowd. This crowd,
of, onyx and granite, thieves and bandits and hopeless romantics,
and I was beginning to become one of them…
my voice was losing it’s sound.
But in this crowd of blacks, grays, and whites,
something stood out, this shining light
of green
and I didn’t really know what to do
(as you can see, I’m not too good at explaining things)
That green just so happened to be you
And the way this story goes, you pulled me out of that crowd,
and saved me
from a brief eulogy.

But let’s say, in our story, that green went away
and left me in a state of… disarray.
So I’m watching that green step foot on a different land
with my mind repeating “until we meet again”
Not knowing what I’d do without a yin
to lend a hand to my yang
As I felt the metallic tang of regret, pain, and hellish heartbreak rise in my main vein and artery --
I’m rambling.
Long story medium, I went without the green
and the sun shined a harsh light. The sheen got to me… I was growing crazy.
I had to leave.

I was at a train station, in a bustling crowd
full of gray faces, and black sounds
I couldn’t hear, it was so loud,
But I could see.
And I saw a train stop, doors open, and a ray of green
And that green just happened to be you
And all I remember thinking was
********, you're beautiful.

Is this what life feels like?
Silent nights, bright red tears strolling by a streetlight?
Fear colored nails
hidden in fists
ready to fight?
What a sight...what a sight indeed.
The smell of decay in newleaf,
Dead souls still dragging their feet
in sync with the star-crossed beat of misery
empty screams echoing through a deserted street of a ghost town
trapped in the masks of crying clowns
forever adding souls to their count...
What will I do when they come for me?
Flee to the taboo tree of visionary ecstasy
Dive into a sea of all seeing entities
Or fight against the horde of everlasting--

It's a sanctuary of temporary forevers and nostalgic promises
A charity snatching what we have to give.
We constantly find ourselves consumed and digested by it
Yet this is our violent addiction to ******
And I'm looking my dealer dead in His sockets asking
Can I live?

It gets... agonizing.
So, very agonizing, and she wonders through the days,
"will it ever end?"
Perhaps, maybe, the divinity of nature
struck down on the undeserving.
A mistake is not a lifetime
                            but a good portion of it
and deep down she knows she couldn't
but each day regrets her decisions
and rubs lamps on nightstands littered with lotto tickets.
To make matters worse, or better,
all around her are visions of joy,
                            happiness, love?
And by accepting her fate,
she embraces, and acknowledges,
that the deed was surely done,
and life in death.

I'm on the Empire State Building.
The air has never felt so thin,
my clothes so light,
almost weightless in the way they fit.

It's rush hour.
Below me, the bustling pace
of the Big Apple. New York City
never sleeps, so they miss things often.

It's a Sunday morning.
I can hear the bells...
They're louder than usual today.
Is there a wedding?

Everything's black.
The dresses, suits, the ties, the back of my eyelids.
I'm at the peak of the city that never sleeps.
The angels have begun descending.
I'm ready.

Tired of runnin’
And fussin’
And sparin’ the details.

We got it good now,
A house, a family, you can go to school.
You won’t learn about us, baby,
They don’t give lessons on strange fruits.

The road derails, your smile retains:
Hope.
I pray you’ll never see blood on the leaves.