The *** is empty
But it’s still hot
The room becomes hazy
The liquid streaming down
My face is salty
With sweat beading
On my forehead
And the stars and skies above me
Enjoying the infinity
The smoke clings
Kick off your shoes
Forget your name
I’ll take it.

Potential,
as opposed to the actual,
is just that:
an almost tangible force
of what could be.
Simply capable
of becoming or being-
the expression of possibility.
It goes hand-in-hand
with sometimes soaring
(and often heartbreaking) hope;
shares company
with expectation.
Waiting and wondering
to determine the likelihood
of something to develop.
Potential is promising
but never a promise
and in some cases
it is even a lie.
For there is no disappointment
deeper than having
a front row seat
to stand-by
and watch
potential be
ignored,
defeated,
and
quietly
dissolve
and
die.

A brave new world where slaves walk with invisible chains

Arizona Ice tea
Pixie sticks
Chocolate and nougat.
You always had something to sell me.

Bumped up a quarter from the price at the store
You were alone while others traveled in pairs.
I could hear you running up the stairs.
Somehow your soccer ball would always hit my door.

Seven is supposed to be a lucky number
Ebay, what you got for me today?
I would say.
50 cents for candy lumber!

Maybe if I played with you that day.
You could be sitting here typing.
No tears on your face for wiping.
Could be that bullet never went astray.

How can people be so evil?
why?
A seven year old shouldn't know how to die.
I shouldn't be experiencing this emotional upheaval