By morning we've got cold amphibious tongues
coated in blubs
waiting bubble eyed.
Still slimy throats
up-gurgle newts and muck.
Moss sprouts from our mouths
and brown coated gums.
Flies quivering between teeth.
Lips dry as salted meat.

Funny how we woke up in the morning
and pretended that tomorrow never happened—
strutted naked in mirrors celebrating our youth,
laughing, knowing suns and moons couldn’t do the same.

We borrowed our arms from the fridge
and peddled bicycles with bad breath—
trading war stories ‘cause we knew
if we came back alive
life would still be the death of us.

I feel like a freak by choice
But in a good way lead with no voice
I'm different from everyone
I'm the short friend with a massive heart
My piercings make me unique
I'm random but like to laugh and smile
I rock chucks attitude of punk
Wear glasses to read stimulate my mind
Not like the rest I take pride on myself
Being me is my greatest protest
Writing is my way of expression
Not into drinking intoxicated by my music
Fight to be me fight not to lose
In my own freak world
It's the place that makes me happy

My elbows feel damp today like they’ve been sitting in
Small pails of oil and someone forgot to tell me.
They feel drenched
Where if someone tried their very hardest to pinch the skin
I would feel no pain.
My only moment of invincibility.

My elbows are boney-
From my mothers side of the family
Like my toes are shaped like my fathers
And no amount of brightly colored nail polish will distract from that fact.
My hair is all my own and my eyes, a cinnamon mix
Caught between browns, yellows, and
Gluey waves of molasses.

But my elbows feel damp today
Even though its fall and skin likes to crack and break and shutter in the wind’s blue outrages.
But skin is only skin
And I didn’t die from scraping my knee on that branch hidden in the big vulnerable pile of leaves…

It’s fall. And leaves are caught struggling with
Conformity and peer pressure.
Their newly painted toenails scream out insecurity;  
Caught between greens, yellows, and
Cinnamon mixes.
Like gluey waves of molasses.

I bet some of those leaves have damp elbows too…