she wails
estranged
my unknown mother
tears on the Kenyan graves
i feel her from my corners
a thread pulled taut
from the web
of my citizen soul

A fault line runs in me through and through
Awakening unexpectedly,
Tearing at me
Night and day.
It crackles in the skin of my hands
I hide it from everyone.
You changed that,
As we search for each other in the dark,
Our skin and hair
Here and there.
I slept with a soundtrack
Of your breaths,
Whispering to me
The calmness of assurance
What else could I need,
The cracks within me fell asleep,
And so did we.

When she's new
everything's perfect.

Sometimes early
on you have stall-
outs

A few here
and there
isn't
really a
big deal.

It happens
to us all.

As you learn her
your confidence
grows and you
learn how she
likes it
and how she
likes your style.

You need
to listen to her
she will tell you
when it's too fast
or too slow.

When you held on
too long
or were too slow
to let go.

The stench of your abuse
will fill your
nostrils

make you sick
to your stomach
and when she starts
screaming,
but not going anywhere

you'll smell this in
her words.

One day, soon
she will break
because of you
because that's how she's
made

But in about ten
hours, one thousand
or so dollars later

She will be
like new
again.

She will be

Perfect.

After
reaching my destination,
I get bored easily,
  all the new wears off my high,
and the people are all the same
   Flintstones
I dream of a place of
   Jeanie,
I am an astronaut,
  I get creative,
rub a bottle or a
    pipe,
think a magic vision
    will smoke up
resolve all.
    Wish me,
luck!

I remember
when growing up
was desired.
We swung our lungs
upwards,
towards the sky,
so we could steal
the air of the
universe's river.

I'd call you on
my parents' red landline.
You'd call me on
a broken cordless phone.
Your father would yell
and I could hear your mother
knock over things
as she was either
running, hiding, or
fighting back.

You don't exist.
You're a figment of my
imagination.
You're a poem,
but I want you to be
a memory that is real
to substitute the ones
I wish were fake.

You don't exist.
Your name is not
Kimberly or June.
Your ears aren't pierced.
We never played games
or shared deep thoughts.
We never talked about
running the **** away.
We didn't grow up together.
We aren't close.
You were never born.

You are just a phantom
stemmed by an unoriginal
imagination. imagination.
imagination. imagination.
But I want you to be real.
Please exist beyond my mind.

In my head,
you confided in me.
In my head,
I wasn't so ******* alone
from ages 6 to 16.
In my head,
you're a phone call away.
I don't want to write a poem
to communicate to you.
Be born. Be born. Be born.

I have so much
I want to share.
I want you to meet
my girlfriend Rachel.
I want you to hear
about how everything
is going well, for once.

Be born. Be born.
Be born. Be born.