It seemed like a good idea to say what I had to say,
only a fool would listen to someone talking under their breath.
I've been out there, not as much as I would like, seeing my face
in the mirror, not a care in the ******* world, buying time until
my ******* death. I've wasted years upon years listening to bull-
****, realizing later down the road I was spitting it out more than
anyone else, trying to puff up my ego, making a complete *******
out of myself. My words fell on deaf ears, it's no wonder with all
the lies I've told, avoiding responsibility from the open door, only to
come up short in the long run. So many fears I had, still have to a certain degree. The darkness wants to tear me down, and I'm running on ******* empty.

There is one advantage to being self-employed. You can show favoritism in selecting the "Employee of the Week."

You could not help but fall for her
Despite warnings from every cell of your brain
You could not contain
Your curiosity
How could someone be
Different shades of different emotions
At the same time
How could someone go
From being the blazing sun
To a violent storm
In the blink of an eye
And that was the trouble with her
You could not tell the next thing she does
And there were many with a prettier face than her
And a few with soul more tender
But none that could stir
A single emotion
While
One look from her
Caused ripples in your soul
The longing she developed
Became insatiable
Cause she was not the caresses and soft kisses sort
She would make sure you meant
Every compliment you uttered
Before she accepted them
She would ask why
You loved her
Instead of saying I love you too
She was never just simply pretty
You know the kind you put on your shelves
For a show
She was not just one element
but the whole package
Something you had never witnessed before
She had fire
Her  feelings weaved silent poetry
All around her
And everyone who saw her could see that
Everyone but herself
Her thoughts were too loud
-loud enough to make the deaf-toned world hear them
She was reckless personified
Descending towards nothing
And you would gladly go down with her
If it only gave you  few more moments to have her look into your eyes
Black eyes
Not seeing at you
But through you
Making you unravel yourself
She could not be bound to a place
She was the wind
that ruffles your hair
caresses your skin
and sweeps your tears off your cheeks
and fly away
just like that
leaving you fixated
on that spot
waiting for her to hit you again
but she is already gone
You never wanted to love her
Yet here you are
Loving her anyway.

My friend Ana has many followers.
She feeds us promises and fills our dreams
when we cannot, will not, sate the cries
of our bodies because those are easy to hush
during the din of day, but not in the void,
night when

my friend Ana comes through a glowing
screen in the form of thigh gaps, community forum posts,
and calorie counting apps where our intake dwindles,
anticipating the moment we take in the waist of  our skirts
so maybe that boy with the blue-jean eyes notices
our size 0 because on a scale of 1 to 10, we don’t fit.

My friend Ana remains forever in our minds,
teaching us to listen to our inner strength as muscle tone
ebbs, seething when we reach for some bread, but loving
the sweat-drenched skin as we run nowhere on a treadmill that we believe leads to a salvation as perfect as the symmetry of ribs—

of cheekbones that jut out from a thin and beautiful face
which smiles at muted murmurs and falls as I look
in the mirror at bodies shaped so divine, you might see
premature grace because
Ana never dies.