Physically falling apart
Like pound shop Barbies do
After a touch too much -
Love letter paper cuts
Juxtaposed between
Some sordid sore fingers,
The scarlet blood that gushes
Brilliant like a sun-set,
Twitching and gloaming
In, our and around
Consciousness like it is
Revolving door,
Spinning,
Spinning,
Spinning
On ballerina feet,
Turned pink to scarlet,
Made misshapen
By dances
Of rapture
And grace-

-Jamie F. Nugent

I was taught to add and subtract at the age of four. My twenty year old mother would sit me down on the grass while waiting for my aunt to get out of high school, and teach me my numbers on her big, scarred hands. I was five when I realized something that would change me for the rest of my life. The number six and the number four are both just one away from being a solid five.
At six years old, my classmate and I were given our daily snacks. My friend had gotten six crackers, while I got four. I asked, “may I have a *******?” She reminded me that I had already gotten my napkin-full of crackers. “But if you give me one, we will both have five.” She bugged her eyes at me.
“I wanna have more,” she said. I shook my head at her, and ate my four crackers.
I wanted to participate in my elementary school’s food drive when I was ten years old, and in fifth grade. I was motivated to make a change for families in need of canned food. When I went home and asked my mom for cans, she explained to me that the cans that my schoolmates were donating would probably end up in our pantry, because we get our food from the local foodbank. I looked up at our pantry. I saw some dusty cans in the back that hadn’t been touched, and multiple cans next to them. I then remembered when we didn’t have even one can, and thought of the families who didn’t have even one can right then. And then I thought: But we have six, and they have four...
A homeless man and I both had five the day I bought him a sandwich when I was fourteen.
My best friend had four when she was sexually abused, and I gave up one when I shoved past the school security guards and got her to the hospital at the age of fifteen.
The year I turned sixteen I figured I had six when I realized there was an unfairness at my school. I gave my fellow students one when I convinced the principal to make a change about it, after being sent to him for disturbing the class with my speech.
I gave up one of my six when I turned seventeen and wrote the inspiring story of my brother’s car crash, for all of the people with four in their broken hearts.
As long as I have six, I will continue to give one. I won’t stop until everyone has five, and the world is one big ten.

You cannot judge a piece of art
you do not delve within
each day

You cannot speak poorly of another writer's
sweat and tears
and consider yourself a creator

You cannot effectively write
unless you choose to read or record
each day

You cannot decide to tear my stanzas apart
but uphold your short phrases
and consider yourself a creator