You’re kind of a
mess girl. All jumbled up, all
pulling at your hair, can
you remember
Sun anymore?

And you’re kind of a
wreck the way you
shake from side to side like
someone’s rocking your
insides, like something’s
scared behind your eyes-
I know you’re hurting,
I know the signs,
but smoke before
fire every time

Just let me save you.

Snow, snow
on the tip of her nose
sick of sincere
now spare me some change,

low, low
lo-fi guy,
his is coming at the wrong time,
I'm
all out of line.

Learn, learn
what did you learn?
What did you learn while
burning the truth?

Burn, burn,
what would I do?
What would I do if I wasn't
burning for you?

Snow, snow
on the tip of her nose,
chicken head chokin'
on a piece of advice.

Everyone’s a mutt in this paradise
adding to the Gumbo: America.
Anglo pure blood and breed will not suffice
To thicken spicy stew’s- Hysteria.
Strength, which each American is made of-
From the poor origins like Plymouth Rock
to indentured servants-it’s not enough.
Like bitter tyranny of slavery’s stock,
And exotic railroad builders toil…
Sweaty brows and every acrid tear dropped
pierced this soil, made this land boil
with every dreamers dream heavy hearts stopped.
We overflow into the salty seas
with ancient roots long as sequoia trees.

the empty street mirrors
her gaze, while many feet
pass by her in a daze
her flat stomach is just
a simple illusion as she
fools others in her delusion
she kisses the air for the rent
of the back alley she haunts
tucking her curls behind ears
that ignore the taunts
the twenty rolled nicely
for her to breathe freedom
the fifty was a bonus
for three of them
two fifty dollar notes
sit squarely in her gaze
but the gun in her hand
means an end to her days