hey buddy did u know that under a powerful microscope a wood chip resembles our universe just let that sink in

we are so small we are so fricking small ok u hav to make yrself known or else u'll forever be nothing but a tiny floating speck

is that what u want to be for the rest of yr life??? a **** fricking speck no i dont think so

thats some horton hears a who type **** ok thats not ok

u know what else

no matter how known u make yrself u will always be just a tiny little speck but hey u know what

some specks can be bigger than other specks and this is not always physical

sometimes the traces u leave behind are bigger than u will ever be

so make a **** impact

voice yr stupid dumb beautiful opinions and voice them loud

be the tiniest speck and climb up as high as u can get and fricking shout at the top of ur little speck lungs

we are here were r here we r here and all that good jazz u kno

did i just write a poem about horton hears a who *******

shoutout to dr. suess for being a radass motherhecker thats some deep crap right there ****

You cant sleep if you are far
From me,

The bells of church wake me up with
First morning down in pink,
Here in the Melancholic town.
The adhan voice for prayer
Had woken your mind long ago…
But your eyes are so tired with
Longing to see me…

You wake up with thought of me
And every time you sleep with
Secret, precious picture of my face
Your eyes are looking to the world
There in the burning sun of Ramadan,
But they see just my blushing cheeks.

You cant sleep if you are far
From me,

You need me just inside of you
In your hot burning arms ,
Full of sparkles and fire you are,
Your need is never satisfied.
You just want to hug me tight
As if you swallow me completely
And me to live inside you..

How do you see me in your eyes?
As little fairy in a dress of tulip white.

But am I not so dangerous for you?
While coming in my Melancholic room
In moon full night,
You want to breath my smell,
To inhale my essence, all of me,
You want to touch me and embrace me,
But I coulodnt be enough for your
Hungry senses.

And i'm still asleep in peaceful dream
With stars, while you whisper again "
“ I adore you, sweet sister of mine”

why did you have to smile at me..
could you not of just walked on by and ignored me..
i noticed you first..
you had this luster to you that i wanted to hold you close and smell your hair..
vibrant skin, eyes the color of the earths emrealds..
long brown hair seem to flow with no wind..
and then the smile as we walked on by eachother..
that smile made my heart race..
that smile made time stop..
that smile silenced all sound..
for just a moment..
it happen to me..
i watched you walk on by as you faded away never looking back..
your smile added colors to my soul..
a color of rememberence, and a color of never seeing you again..

Ours is something
To be explained away;
I love you
But– I think to myself.
I love you
But– there will be a day I do not.
I love you
But– I do not know what love means.
I love you
But–

You gifted me a vase
Rose, iris, baby’s breath, chrysanthemum
In purples and pinks and whites
They wither quickly
Alongside the spider webs in my closet,
They crack and brown
Buried in the darkness of thick winter blankets,
Hidden within the folds
Of that green dress I wore
They rot.

I stay awake until
The old clock ticks in silence,
Sound bouncing off empty corners and into the abyss,
I unsheathe the vase from my closet and hold it up
To the yellow-orange ceiling light,
Blinds drawn tightly,
Damage control;
“Live, please, live. Just a little longer.”
I press my nose into it,
And baby’s breath becomes hemlock,
Iris into nightshade,
Chrysanthemums now oleander,
And the roses–
Stay roses,

I press my nose into it,
Tears replenish dried water,
Feeding the poison,
Dying, slowly, in darkness.

I love you
But– this cannot be love.
I love you
But– I have not sacrificed,
Have not pained or labored or suffered,
I love you
But– If this is love
Then what have I known?

Ours was something
Of swimming pools and summer air,
White boy indie guitar,
Art museums and coffee,
Flowers, book stores, paint drops on your cheek,
It was leather car seats and upstairs lofts,
The frantic finding of fabric
As doors creaked open.

I bury my face into purple roses,
I swear they smell of you,
“I love you, I love you, I love you,”
A million times,
“I love you, I love you, I love you,”
Until the words melt
Into a meaningless sludge,
No one to hear them,
Sound bouncing off empty corners and into the abyss,
I love you
And–
I am leaving you.

One hundred years ago
My Mammy was just three,
The exact same age as me,
When she sailed us across the sea,
All those years ago.

Just lately,  just now,
I said Mammy's Mammy's name out loud.
What was that, I asked.
For sure her name's not been said
For many, many years.
Margaret Duffy
A dog barked.
So I said my mother's:
Mammy
A breeze furled the window sheers.

The dog continued to yelp,
So I said her other names louder:
Brigid...........Nellie

I will keep the wind inside me,
And allow the dogs their day;
Your names will still be called upon,
In stress or tranquility.

We were
People of another caliber
Not so
Concerned with things like college algebra
Still we
Had to pass our finals so we’d
Meet up
For about an hour to study
But when I got to your place
It was the look on your face
The only question I got to
Was

Where should I put
My hands on you
Where should I put
My hands on you

We went
Out to grab a cup of coffee
And we
Talked about our thoughts on philosophy
I was
Partial to more modern theory
But you
Still seemed to be hung up on Socrates
But as you waved your arms around
Your point was proven and I found
I ought to ask you what to do
So

Where should I put
My hands on you
Where should I put
My hands on you

with white gloves
carries it on his shoulders, - the sand
shatters-
-in the dance of the heat

the eagles wait solemnly

leave my body soft
in the air, leave it up
up
on the tower of silence
at the origin of rain

forbidden to the earth
waiting for the rescuers of the sky

he’s beautiful
every time I see a new picture
I want to live in it forever
I want to leap off the cliff
and glide into the valley
surrender to ocean current
let it carry me to uncertain sea
step off the platform
and be hit by the train

I just want that rush
injected straight into my heart
wake suddenly from the lonely dream
panting and gasping and grasping

and he is there
eyes, arms, flesh, blood, love, love, love

One night, while I waited for you
I sat in the midwest summer heat, hot and sticky
like juice from a sun-ripened peach-
a balcony in the city, a small temple amidst the headlights and occasional sweet, gasping breezes
the house was asleep, settling in its aged wooden bones
while I wrote you poetry on its back.

you never arrived, but I felt somehow better for it:
the warm and pulsing beauty of my silent night's watch.

My hands were stained with beetroot
My hands were sour with lemon
My hands were salt from cabbage
As I cried in your defence
"He would have kissed me on the steps
If I'd looked up, if I were not such a fool
The cue was there, you know
When he asked about my necklace."
I always wondered, so now
Where's this bold solution from?
And she said, were you a man
I wouldn't have to look.