01:52 am
have you ever asked yourself like why you so lonely?*

01:53 am
or empty?

that maybe you give too much of your essence to people and never leave any of you for yourself

01:55 am
i know i do

02:05 am
and like that's maybe why i get so attached to humans

because in them,
i find myself

02:07 am
i need to change, because things shouldn't be this way

02:10 am
but it's hard sometimes you know, when most days you don't leave the house because you feel unworthy of the space you take up

02:16 am
so you'd much rather disintegrate into soil because you've become all too familiar with people stepping over you and admiring the outcome of your beauty but never the roots of your pain

02:19 am
i spend so much effort watering people in order for them to grow and hardly get enough sun shine to feed my own soul

02:25 am*
because i don't know how to do anything else but care for everyone but myself

If I held out my hand
would you take it ?
it's warmth ready to permeate your soul
but what would it tell you of me ?
the scar on my finger
the wrinkling skin
the crooked pinkie
the gnarl on my thumb
stories to be told
if you would only take hold.

With your hands
Held aloft
And passion blazing in your eyes,
Your voice resonates
In an empty room
For the audience
Strain to hear
The whispers from the shadows.
And the applause
Echoing in your ears
Is merely a work of fiction.
Those who shout loudest
Will be the first
To lose their voice.

You've cried more tears than waters in oceans.
You've felt pain deeper than the lowest valleys.
You've had more sleepless nights than the light from the moon.
You've seen more than the sky has stars in the sky.
You've been momma since I've opened my eyes.
You're my first smile, my first tear.
You're my first friend.
You're my first protector, educator.
You're my first word.
You're my first love.

You're the first to rescue.
Always there when my lips utter any needs.
You're a provider.
You're my first example.

You're the last to leave when I'm down.
You're the last to cry because you strengthen your smile to stand stronger than your tears.
You're the last person I'd want to disappoint.
You're the last I'd ever wanna hurt.
You're the last person I'd wanna leave
You're the last person I'd wanna see leave this earth.

I've never felt your pain.
I've never cried your tears.

I've felt your love from day one, and after the last day your love will remain the same as the day you held me for the first time and looked me in my half opened eyes with a smile bigger than all the disappointments life had for me.
Through my trials and tribulations, I remember all your teachings.

I've learnt more from you than I could learn from a lifetime in school.

Thank you, Mother.
I love you ❤

i don't watch home movies
hate them
reason being because
when i was young
i was looking for a movie
my mother
had recorded for me
and accidentally
put one in the vcr
that i'm not sure
i was supposed to see
i know the obvious response
"uh oh, ****"
sorry to disappoint
they were only marked with dates
  1991
on live television
montel williams asks my father
"how can you just throw
your child away like a piece of trash?"
   1994
i spend so much time
in the emergency room
that my parents stop
penciling in growth marks
on the frame
of my bedroom door
i always thought
it was because they believed
i would never grow out
of this sickness
sometimes i believe
the reason that they
never bought me a dream catcher
was because they never thought
i'd live long enough
to see them come true
   1996
i am eliminated
from a spelling bee
because i didn't know
the 'dad' is silent in 'family'
   2013
before i got into poetry
i used to do standup
none of my jokes were funny
one of the other comics
tells me my skits are dry
sometimes sad
he says "why don't you joke
about something like your family?"
so i say
"i never wore any sunblock
because i didn't want anything
to keep me from my father"
i say "what do you call christmas
without lights or heat?"
before he has a chance
to answer
i say "1997. better yet
why don't you
make like a dad and
leave"
   2014
every time we drive
past the hospital
my mother reminds me
how much it cost to save my life
like she'd rather
have her money back
she doesn't have to say
that sometimes she wishes
it was me who had died
instead of my brother
i can hear it in the way
she says "love you"
sometimes i imagine
that if i were to die
that she
would pick out a casket for a child
because she never loved
the person i became
yesterday i told my father
how close i'd been
to suicide lately
and he said
"that's my boy,
livin on the edge.."
and i can't remember
if i laughed
or cried

Listen, it's a beautiful thing
when distilled to its essence;
reduced to its purest form.
A paradox and a paradigm;
a paragon of perfection.
Epic in its arythmetic
progression; poetic.
Like Chinese arithmetic,
so hard it hurts. Yet soft
and exquisite, like a bubble
of love caught in a beating heart.
That place where poetry starts.