What was I thinking falling in love with an older man?
No **** he broke my heart.
He's thirty-one.
I'm 18 and dumb.
This is not a poem,
just a lesson.

Reinvigorate my lust for life.
This desert girl wants rain and red wine.
The mountains will lighten my heavy load.
I know this like the back roads on the shortcut to home.
Nature will undo myself.
The sun on my face will help.
Moving on the earth, I will find my place.
The location I must flee to locks me in, and I gravitate.

Carrying sweet and lows in my wallet
to make the the tough times bittersweet,
and my bag collects sand from my frequencies
at the beach
vibrating with my Tibetan bowl
to balance auras.
My heart has smiling children inside.
My chest pains have lessened, ever since I quit coffee
and the illusion that one day you're coming back.
You touched me in all the ways that made love songs possible.
My head has found a legitimate reason to stay where I am,
although I doubt myself in moments when nothing seems aligned.
Like you and I.
You know, the Chinese have an ancient myth that says soul mates
have red strings connected to each other and tied.
Tangled or straightened they are always bound,
even when the other seems not to be around.
I tug the line, step towards me.
But I know there is a scissor in your pocket debating.
And these are all the things you don't know about me,
or how I am feeling and thinking.

To love a drug addict is to love drugs in itself.
To see the highs... the lows...
always a different character but none of them are you.
A bud that tossed its seed into barren soil.
Shrouded in clouds made of chemicals you can't even name.
Always living on one side of your duality and my role
has always been to bear witness.
We love each other but visions of us as lovers
are now ****** into the void because to love a drug addict
is to love the very thing that controls you.
There is no room for anything else to reign.
Your chains outweigh your strength.
And so you sit, seething and craving
for the next hit.
Or should I say, **** dose...
what you like to call it.
To love a drug addict is to accept
your names...
and all they represent.
But I hate.
I hate your hang overs
and you're need for speed.
I hate it because its killing you physically
as it kills me emotionally.
I hate you're demon that stops you from being
half the man you could be.
And so this is why we never graduated past lovers.
This is why you never became a rock star.
Garage bands unable to house you in
because you're too busy getting wasted
while they play music.
You **** up your notes and your tuning.
Your energy ******* up the melody
because you have to stuff your face,
with things to make you forget your face.
I see empty.
This is why we'll never work out.
We drew our lines, made our circles and put things in them.
You chose to surround yourself with drugs that make it so hard to love you.
Because I hate them.
Because they hate you.

Feelings hold no justification as the wheel of fortune turns
three eleven
two women, a man,
and an elephant in the room.
Three blades in the heart
and a cigarette tattoo.
Three dark freckles mapping a triangle on my wrist -
on the top was man, two woman at bottom, a fault in logic.
Circles scar as they trace their story down
to the ending you thought you would never
come back to.
I just wanted one lover,
my one lover wants two.

Days pass effortlessly
I jump through them like hoops;
like hurtles,
like thoughts,
like water.
The question of the century:
will I ever see that facet of myself again?
To see your flesh.
Only way is to time travel forward so that I may
witness a flashback from the past.
The days pass effortlessly
but many moments I sit still struggling.
My body is moving around but does not know
what it is doing.
You flicker and float in my conscious
like a warning,
like a nuisance,
like a red balloon rising in the sky.
Can't help but notice as it passes by.
Attempting to peer through clouds beyond the sun
and out onto the galaxy, I pray to the cosmic forces
to align you and me.
Days pass effortlessly.
Planes glide elegantly.
Your spirit is found where I am not.
And in that lonesome dwelling place where I reside,
I wonder if our energies will ever get the chance to collide.
Days pass effortlessly
and my question lingers persistently.
To see your flesh.

Times are tough for lovers
The road needs travellers but
Is selective on who is allowed to journey on.
I was not chosen.
Stuck but not stagnant
Impatient but waiting because what else can I do?
The world loves you.
I am competing against something that is larger than life.
All I can give is my mouth, my hands, my intellect, my affection amd attention.
Petty compared to the mountains, the oceans, the sirens, the unknown.
Without your energy engaged with my body
The atmosphere tastes bitter.
Light headed all the time because I need your water.
When will you be spit back home?
You're Embraced in the arms of the world
But now am I lonely because
I feel that way when you're holding me.
These times... They are tough for lovers.

All I had to do was lie down and close my eyes.
Listen to his voice take me deep down inside myself.
Suddenly, there is a wooden double door at the base of a mountain.
He tells me, "Open your unconscious and step inside... What do you see?"
A boy with blue saucers piercing my brain,
******* to a chair with a bandanna over his mouth.
Those blue saucers... how menacing.
I release him from the chair and he stands up and looks at me.
His blue saucers looking at me like I'm the alien.
I hang out there for a while until the voice says...
"Come back to this reality, shut the door behind you;
at the count of ten open your eyes."
I come back.
But him... he stays behind... untied but waiting.
For me to open the door again.

From everything I can gather
From what I've learned
From relationships
The bless of luck
The knot in your chest
You named covet
From the wheel
Turning fully
Brushing the bottom with your feet
Just when you think the ride is over
Love appears in the horizon
With the sun on it's back
Screaming lord have mercy
Because the worst thing in the world
To wish on anybody, essentially,
is trauma.
You don't have the privilege of carrying it,
Much less holding...
It wears you.
Like that purple long sleeve
You somehow never managed to lose
Through all your years wandering.
The worst action in the world is stagnation,
And from this I know hate means that you wish
Somebody or something never gets past that obstacle, that fear, breaking through that path to the next moment of what it means to be alive.
I don't need to hate you,
Stuck is what you have been
And it's where you are.
And I mutually write this
In its dysfunction,
Naked at no one
Staring out the blinds

I don't mind where it takes me
As long as it takes me
Unwinded
Whip out
Wherever it takes me
As long as it's different
From drunk and driving
Or your brain hurting
From people draining your energy
I'm looking for stimulating
And a huge exhale
From the illusions
Breaking me

My mother on Christmas
Bitter over wine and a stronghold
That pulls her over the edge
Screaming in a restaurant
In an intimate setting
The full course meal
On the table
And the core issue
Placed at the center
Sitting across from me
Sitting within me
A collapsed mother
An unmothered mother
Complex
Demanding to be felt
Demanding to heal
The illusion is real
Forcing her to hug me
She kept shoving me off
Like my father was beating her
A memory she spends lots of time with
I locked in
And she somehow sent me
To the ground
I picked myself up
And closed my body
Around her again
Until the fight out of her eyes
Blew out and she cried
And I looked through her
And said,
"You are an amazing human being
Thank you for everything
I desire your growth"
Unconditional love
That's what it takes
And she broke

To live is to be marked
To own the words of a story

Where wants and needs meet
You plant a spoiled seed
Rotting everything
That intended to sprout
Innocence and purity

I am crying and typing
about a sunken ship below a hurricane
in my chest.
My description stays here, the rest lodged
in this moment because you are too far away
to feel this.
Accept and handle loosely
I must remind myself constantly

Someday, when I have a significant amount
Of money which means enough to leave the scene
Wherever I am easily
And without further strife
I will be a ***** stand my ground
And tell people off when they cross me

Curses
Adverse current
And drifted out to sea
Refusing restriction
Determined to be me
Mothers and Fathers
Can Be
Disturbing shadows
And
Reversed archetypes
With a fallen crown
Come on wise one
Quit beating on the
Same drum
Of a familiar string
Continuously negative thoughts
Keeping you where
You don't want to be
If you can't think about
A
Situation
Differently
Physically leave
Use a different drum
To maintain the beat
Of that high flying disk
Positivity

Something bout a dead flower
Something bout the wind when
It picks up power
The guy I'm with
Has a tattoo
Of a green apple sour
On his hand
Twin butterflies floating
In the breeze
That's what Venice seems to me
Open mind, chilly seas
The guy I'm with he says to me
I want love for eternity
But he doesn't put off that energy
Hung up on his ex
Like the rose bud
On his neck
Flowering but stuck
He works at a tourist shop
On Venice beach boardwalk
Planning a neurotic escape to Vegas
Makin Ditching to the desert
Something bout a dead flower
Something bout the wind
When it picks up power
Chilly momentum
Out on the open sea
I want love for eternity

Armpits hate aluminum

and vaginas loathe razors

body parts voice themselves

through physical sensations

lymph nodes form pea *****

crying to sweat

vaginas irritated screaming

ingrown hairs and sores

Why can’t we be accepted as we are?

Avoid deodorant

and guarantee that someone

will say,

YOU SMELL AWFUL

shave your ***** region

because every girl does it

without asking questions

groom for your man

do him a favor

wild and natural

under the assumption

that it must be tamed

so many women

never ******

but as long as the man

gets his fix

then the job is done

If a girl has ever stuffed her bra

with toilet paper

to make her chest fill out

some deep part of her

will understand what I’m writing about

Ladies... please as a collective,
wash your brain from brain wash

The time to change is now.
Transformation is nature.
Love lost found, sooner or later.
I want you to know that my feelings
are real and this is rare.
I'm still in love, but it's not enough.
I'm a better person now than I ever was.
Your soul forms invisible strings suspending me.

Cracked out on moonlight,
hazy from coasting through the night awake.
I don't need drugs to feel this way.
I am in tune with the mystics, the insomniacs,
and the men who walk out of the *******
at 5 in the morning.
We all have our reasons to be alive.
Mine is lost in obscurity in between the lines
traced on my palms.
I envision God with a knife.
Carving scratches on my hands predetermining my life.
My mouth worries and my fingers translate.
And all the while I'm holding a book in my heart
enscribed with the message:
Beautifully Bloomed,
Beautifully Doomed.
Who can read this cryptic message?
The Moon.

It was the look in your eyes
Never wore the brakes
Trip of our life
It was the shine in your eyes
Stops me every time
Chilly blue uncontrollable  you

Taos brings Chaos
Crestone is half empty on a Full Moon
New Orleans daydreams
of ghosts and Voodoo Queens
Miami sinks under the sea
We are running out of places to be
Centuries-old quest for gold
The sun as our flashlight

The sun hit your eyes
Halts me every time
Chilly blue undefinable you
Drowns me in your monsoon

When I'm high my ideas distort in a perverted movement.
When I'm high I don't want my mom to see my eyes.
At least without eye drops popped in concealing what I've done,
who I've been.
When I'm high I shamefully admit to my psychologist.
When I'm high I open my mind and channel spirits.
When I'm high I sometimes hate who I am inside.
Conclusions just mean cycles.
No more subjects everything is titles.
I peer out of my body I appear to be glowing
but all my visions have lost their luster.
The shine dims before my eyes.
In this period of life the world took me for a ride
around the darkness.
It's sadness was so tragic because it spelled out the "S",
materialized as snake,
symbolizing infinity,
punching my heart directly.
When I'm high I say these things,
I tap unto a familiar part of myself
that won't give space for the whole.
When I'm high I feel guilty because
it's hard for me to say no anymore.

St. Claire killed a lizard for me and laid it on the staircase as an offering of devotion.
Lying on its back, the frill hanging out and its tail lay mutilated beside it,
Aaron my room mate said use it as a sacrifice for Isis in a potion.
Tonight I place the gift inside a cauldron, chanting the holy name
of the High Priestess to bless my spell with powers as deadly as poison.
I want you to know this.
I want you to visit me in dream world.
I yearn for this like a transitory passage
determined to carry me safely over turbulent waters.
I am certain as a stone that I will never cease
until I am back inside your magick circle.

Wisdom is not knowledge.
It took me a vial of mescaline
And the Holy Bible
To figure this out.
All this contemplation
Over matters of the heart,
That information or judgement
Could never fathom.
Wisdom passed down,
Acquired through
Inheritance.
Knowledge learned
And memorized
Through practice.

Fantasies and dreams
Always seemed like
The synonym for
The same thing.
Fantasies are sleepy dreams
Allowing us to imagine
Our wildest possibilities.
Fantasy parked out front
In a street car named Desire.
Dreams draped in a scarlet robe
Of lust and positivity,
Always come into fruition.
Dreams draped in onyx
And negativity
Turn into the reversed
Prophetic vision of what
We want to be.
Fantasy dismissed
As impossibility
But allowed in the
Bedroom *******.
Dreams realized and
Dreams that die,
They are considered
The guiding reality.

Expending so much energy
On knowledge and dreams,
But now I am
Consciously connected
To the vibration of
Wisdom and Fantasy.

Releasing resistance to
Those concepts
That I've never seen.